The two envelopes weighed heavier in Vin's hands than even their bulk called for. He knew there'd be nothing but sweetness and light inside, and probably more innocent affection than he'd be able to read without breaking down. His heart and his soul - not to mention his aching body - wouldn't be able to stand that. He knew he should read them, and thank Maria for caring enough to send them, but he couldn't. Not yet.Sitting on the bottom bunk in the guest room, he pulled open an empty drawer in the desk and slipped the letters inside. Once he'd pushed the drawer shut again, he exhaled a shaky breath and closed his eyes. This was all too much to deal with at once. It was too much to deal with over an entire lifetime.
He'd come up stairs to change his long-sleeve shirt for a t-shirt. The weather was picking up hot again, and instead of just taking off Chris' shirt and having done with it, he was going to put on a t-shirt and keep Chris' shirt on over it. He might as well get that done with, and head back downstairs where Buck and Chris were waiting for him on the deck to take Cowboy for his walk. Maybe the air and the exercise would make him tired enough that he'd fall asleep as soon as he laid down.
Or maybe he could just dose himself into oblivion again with painkillers and muscle relaxants and not have to worry about anything for the next twelve hours. Well, he'd have to worry about Chris probably checking on him every twenty minutes to make sure he was still breathing. And he might have to worry about getting another nightmare. He didn't want to have to go through that again.
Vin stood up from the bed and pulled a t-shirt from the pile of his laundry at the foot of the bed. The sooner he got to walking, the sooner he'd get tired, the sooner he could sleep, and the sooner one more horrific day would be over.
Lord, he could hardly wait to see what tomorrow would be like.
+ + + + + + +
Mary walked upstairs. Her stated intention was to change her shoes since she wouldn't be taking Cowboy for his walk. Her real mission was to check on Vin. She had no idea what she might say to him, but she could see he was suffering and she couldn't leave him there without trying to help.
She passed his room on her way to her own. He'd left the door open a crack and she glanced inside. He was changing his shirt and had his back to her. As he pulled the t-shirt on over his head, she saw the assorted bruises and gouges plain across his back and down his side.
Vin hadn't noticed her, and she didn't want him to catch her staring, so she kept going and walked into her bedroom. But she had to grab hold of the door to keep her balance she felt so sick. She knew Vin was trying his hardest to make things seem as normal as possible, which meant he was hiding as many things as possible - from his friends, but from maybe from himself as well.
Stephen had had those kinds of secrets too. Maybe not for the same reasons, but with the same results - feeling like he had to put up a brave front to the world, while inside storms raged. Those were deadly secrets. Soon it would be five years since she found out just how deadly they could be.
When she felt steady enough, she let go of the door and sat in the chair. Instead of changing her shoes, she reached for the small picture of Stephen she kept on top of her dresser, and she sat staring at that for a while.
+ + + + + + +
His legs ached, his ribs ached, his back ached, and his scratches pulled. All from just trying to put on a t-shirt. Never mind going for a walk to tire himself out - just standing up straight was exhausting.
Vin heard somebody walking down the bedroom hallway. It had to be Mary, from the footsteps. He felt bad for wasting her supper, and he thought he should take the chance to apologize to her for that at least.
Her bedroom door was open, so he went down there. He found her sitting in the armchair, looking at a small, framed photograph. "Mary?" he tapped on the door to get her attention. "Can I talk to you a second?"
"Sure." She said it too fast, like she'd been caught out at something. She turned away from Vin to set the picture frame up on her dresser, and as she did that, he saw her wipe her hand under her eyes. Seemed like she was crying, but she turned a perfectly composed face back to him. "How are you? Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm okay." He took a glance between her and the photograph; he didn't recognize the man in the picture. "I'm sorry about supper though. I'm sorry you went to all that trouble. I really like your ham and cabbage. I just don't want to eat anything - anything -." He stammered over the end of that sentence, realizing almost too late what he was about to say.
"I fell once when I was little, I cracked my head on the kitchen floor and gave myself a concussion." Mary said. "I remember not wanting to eat anything for the longest time too, I felt so queasy." She stood up from her chair and gave Vin a strong hug, so strong it took him by surprise.
"Anything you need, you let me know. Anything you want to eat, anything you think you can eat, anything at all Vin, you let me know." Her voice sounded strange, like she was back to near crying again.
"Oh, well - thanks Mary. I will." He put his arms around her, slowly, as though she might bolt at the touch. He'd never hugged her before. She'd never actually hugged him either, just one-arm-in-passing kind of hugs. Heck, nobody but Nettie had ever hugged him before, and after being attacked, he swore he'd never let anybody touch him again. Now he was getting hugs from all sides.
The sound of someone clearing their throat made Vin turn a little toward the bedroom door. Chris stood there, with his arms crossed, and one eyebrow arched in consternation.
"You mind telling me how come every time I turn my back, one of you fellas is hugging my wife?" he asked. Vin felt Mary start break off the hug, and of their own volition, his arms tightened around her a little more before he let her go.
"Well hell Chris." He said. "If you don't know why, I'm sure not about to tell you."
+ + + + + + +
"Is Mary OK?" Vin asked Chris, as they walked Cowboy down the road. They walked more or less three abreast, with Buck on the outside. The sun was only just setting, with enough daylight left that they didn't need a flashlight.
"You tell me, you were the one hugging her." Chris said, with a mock scowl. Vin ignored the baiting.
"No, something seemed wrong. She was looking at a picture of some guy, I thought maybe she was crying."
"Who was it a picture of?" Buck asked
"I didn't recognize him. Blond hair, kind of long. He had a beard and a mustache...?"
"Oh." Was all Chris said. He didn't sound happy. Even Buck seemed to falter a step, and he shot a look at Chris.
" 'Oh' - what?" Vin persisted. "Who is that? Chris?"
Chris seemed to startle out of a bad memory. "Nobody." He let Cowboy drag him away and when Vin thought it was safe, he turned to Buck.
"I miss something?" he asked, and Buck seemed like he was having trouble coming up with an answer.
"That's Stephen." He said. "Mary's brother. He died five years ago."
Vin remembered Billy saying something about an uncle Stephen. "Mary never mentioned she had a brother."
"Yeah well, Chris doesn't like talking about him much. He was like a kid brother to Chris, and when he died - well....Chris didn't handle it too well. It's still pretty hard on him."
"Oh." Vin watched the ground for a while as they walked along. Chris kept his distance away from them. "I guess I understand. My Dad died, I don't talk about him much either I guess. He never talked much about my Mom either. I guess I can understand." He looked over at Chris. After a moment or two, he turned his steps to walk beside Chris. Neither one said anything, Vin wasn't sure what he could say.
He found himself wondering what it felt like to be somebody's kid brother, to be Chris' kid brother. Growing up an only child, and only having cousins who were way younger than he was, Vin thought it'd be nice to be somebody's kid brother. He wondered if Chris would ever feel that way about him.
"We'll head back." Chris said to Vin. He sounded fine now. "It's still too hot and you're going to wear yourself out."
"Well, if you think so." Vin said.
"I don't think so." Chris told him. "I know so."
SIXTY-FIVE
Nettie felt sick. Something was lost between her and Vin. He was gone from her for good; she’d ruined it for sure. How could she make it any better? She wanted to drive right over to Chris’ house and demand that he talk to her and listen to her, and make him understand. She wanted things right between the two of them again. She couldn’t talk to anybody about it – she didn’t want to go spreading his business among people who hardly knew him. And she didn’t know if it would be right to talk about him behind his back with his friends. Did she have that right? Suddenly she felt like she didn’t have the right at all to care about him, to be worried about him.She’d only known him a few months, since January. She was only his most recent friend. She thought she counted as a good friend, at least she used to think he thought of her that way. Now she wasn’t sure at all.
It hurt, and she felt sick.
+ + + + + + +
Vin sought out Mary as soon as they got back to the house. He found her in the side yard, tossing some tin cans into the recycling bin. She smiled when she saw him, “How was the walk?” Instead of answering that question, Vin said:
“I’m sorry Mary – about your brother. Buck told me.” He saw the change in her face, the smile faded and she dropped her eyes, but he kept on. “I wouldn’t have come in on you like that, when you were looking at his picture, if I knew.”
“No, it’s OK. Really.” Mary had another smile on her face when she looked back up at him. “I was just a little sad thinking about him before, but that was before.” Vin didn’t believe her, but he didn’t push it.
“Still – I’m sorry. Feels like I’ve just been making a mess of everything today.”
“What have you made a mess of?” she asked. He heard patience in her voice.
“Well – dinner –.” He started. Mary cut him off.
“This may come as a surprise to you, but I tend to make dinner every day. It’s a habit I’ve gotten into since I’ve been married.”
“Yeah but – I didn’t eat it, Chris didn’t eat it. I didn’t mean for you to waste it.”
“Waste it? Trust me – midnight tonight Chris will be raiding the refrigerator. And we can have ham and eggs for breakfast, and I have a ham and broccoli casserole recipe I save just for leftovers and -.”
”I don’t want to eat anything.” He didn’t mean to say it so strongly. He didn’t mean to say it at all but he couldn’t help himself; the words came out all on their own. He felt sick. She’d know, she’d guess, she’d be one more person he’d have to pretend in front of and avoid.
He saw a faint flicker of something cross her face, but instead of commenting on what he’d said, Mary only stepped closer and put her hand on his arm. “What else do you think you messed up today?” she asked, and all the anger and frustration and helplessness Vin felt raged through him and poured out in his voice.
”Everything.”
Mary stepped even closer and put a hand on this other arm. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.” Vin shook his head, harder than he meant to. He’d only intended to apologize to her and then go away, to bed, or somewhere not around anybody else. He only wanted this day to be over.
“Is there anything I can do?”
Vin could feel the warmth of Mary’s hands, even through the sleeves of the shirt. More than that, he could feel the warmth of her concern for him. From the first time he met her, she’d shown him genuine affection. Vin always figured it was because he was Chris’ friend, and not for any value of his own, and even after three years, he wouldn’t let himself believe anything different.
Even if she was friends with him just for himself, what more could she do for him? Even if she didn’t know what happened to him, even if she believed he’d ‘only’ been beat up, it was still incredible to him that she was taking care of him, feeding him, washing his clothes, giving him a safe place to sleep. What more could she possibly do for him than just be friends with him?
“I’m sorry about your brother.” He said again. “I reckon that had to be hard to lose him.”
“Vin…” she said it so firmly, he held his breath and met her gaze. “It would be just as hard for me to lose you.”
+ + + + + + +
Buck found Chris at the open refrigerator, staring down at the few bottles of beer on the lowest shelf. “A man shouldn’t drink when he’s got that look in his eyes.” Buck said.
“It’s just beer.” Chris said, but he shut the fridge door.
“Chris – I’ve seen that look before and nothing is just anything when you’re looking like that. Take a seat and I’ll get us some ice tea.”
“Yeah…” Chris sat at the kitchen table and rested his head in his hands. Buck brought two glasses and the pitcher of ice tea to the table and sat across from Chris.
“There’s something we need to talk about.” He said, as he poured the tea.
“I don’t want to talk about anything.” Chris muttered from behind his hands.
“Well we’re gonna talk about this.”
At the tone of Buck’s voice, Chris lifted his head. “What?” he asked, suddenly worried.
“You’re telling Vin he doesn’t need to talk to anybody about what happened.”
“He doesn’t need to.”
“Who are you to say that Chris? Can you see inside that boy’s mind? Do you have any idea how much this can tear a person up emotionally as well as physically?”
“I sure the hell have an idea what a therapist can do to his mind.” Chris snapped.
“It’s not the same thing.” Buck almost yelled. “It’s not even comparing apples and oranges – you’re comparing apples to worms. How much sense does that make?”
“How much sense does it make to send him to a stranger who doesn’t know him and doesn’t care about him, and is only going to make things worse for him? We’re his friends. If he needs somebody to talk to, he can talk to us.” Chris was definitely angry. “He can talk to me if you don’t want to have anything to do with it.”
“Chris -.” Buck tried his level best to keep his voice calm, but he wanted Chris to understand exactly what they were both talking about. “Chris – Vin can come talk to me anytime he wants, and he knows that. And I know you want to be able to talk to him Chris but –.” He held his hand up to cut off Chris’ argument. “But - Chris, you’ve gotta ask yourself how comfortable you’d be talking to Vin about this.”
“I can talk to him about it.” Chris grumbled. He took a swallow of ice tea.
“Can you honestly tell me that you could sit there and have a calm, level, non-emotional conversation with one of your best friends about three strangers breaking into his home and surprising him while he was naked? Could you sit there and keep eye contact with him if he wanted to talk about how they tried to force oral sex on him, or all the obscene things they said to him and the things they made him say?”
Buck hated to be saying these things, but he wanted Chris to face reality. He could tell he was getting through to Larabee, the way his face flushed and he looked down and away.
“Chris – I know you care about Vin, as much as you cared about Steve, and I know you want to help him anyway you know how. But even if you could sit and calmly discuss what it’s like for a man to be raped, and what it’s like to have three men piss on you just to humiliate you a little more, or how it feels to wish they’d kill you rather than violate you one more time – I know you couldn’t sit there and calmly discuss the bastards who tortured him.”
This brought Chris’ head back up. “Damn right I wouldn’t discuss them calmly. They deserve to die and the second I get my hands on them they’ll be as dead as I could ever possibly make them.”
“That’s not what Vin needs, Chris.” Buck said, still keeping his voice low and even. “Those rat criminals will probably never be caught because Vin will probably never report this. So it’s not gonna do him one damn bit of good to keep dragging them along with him for the rest of his life. He needs to be able to let go of his fear and anger and hatred – and he can’t do that if you can’t Chris. All this time, since this happened, he’s been looking to you for strength and security and guidance. I’m not saying you can’t help him Chris, but I am saying you can’t help him get over something you’re dead stuck in the middle of.”
“He doesn’t need to talk to some stranger.” Chris tried again.
“Fine.” Buck spat. He squared his chair and folded his hands on the table. “If you think you can do this with Vin, prove it. Say one word for me. If you can say that one word, I will believe that you can have this conversation with Vin.”
“What word?” Chris asked, sounding sure of himself. Buck took a breath and met his gaze straight on.
“Sodomy. Say that word Chris, even just to me, and I will believe you can do this.”
A long, electric silence stretched between them, until Chris shoved his glass of ice tea away and stormed out of the kitchen.
SIXTY-SIX
Chris was in Vin’s room, plugging in the pole fan from downstairs, when Vin came in. “I didn’t realize it was so hot in here.” Chris said. “You should’ve told me.”“It gets hotter than this in my apartment, even with the fans going.”
“We’ll take care of that too, then.”
Vin shrugged. “Heat isn’t high on my list of proof that I’m in hell right now.”
“Still, you should be comfortable. You going to bed?” It was still early, and Chris was hoping to have a chance to talk to Vin.
“Yeah.” Vin managed a smile. “Much as I hate a day like this to end, I’m going to bed.”
“Today could not have been worse than yesterday.” Chris said.
“Bad enough in its own way I guess.” Vin leaned his shoulder against the upright frame of the bunk bed. “Life’s taking cheap shots at me physically one day and emotionally the next.”
“Nettie?” Chris asked. He sat on the edge of the desk.
“Yeah, Nettie.” Vin said her name on a long breath. “Lots of other things too.” He swiped at nothing on the front of his t-shirt and stared at the floor.
“Vin – look –.” Chris couldn’t help thinking of all the things Buck had just said to him downstairs. He didn’t want to think about them, but they crowded his brain. Vin had been raped, and pissed on, and violated, repeatedly. There he stood not four feet in front of Chris, bruised and broken, and upright, but he had survived so much.
Maybe Buck was right, maybe Chris wouldn’t be able to talk to Vin.
“Vin -.” He tried again, and Vin looked up at him. He looked frightened.
Oh Lord, Chris realized. He thinks I’m going to tell him he’s got to get out, that I’m tired of having him here. It might’ve been funny to Chris, if Vin didn’t seem so truly scared. What could he say? Half a dozen ideas crossed his mind and he rejected each before it was even half formed.
“You know I’m glad you’re here,” finally passed muster.
“Yeah…” Vin allowed, but he didn’t sound convinced. He was waiting for the ‘but’ that he expected Chris to follow with.
“Yeah.” Chris echoed. “I’m glad you’re here where I can keep an eye on you.”
“Yeah?” The look of fear slowly transformed into wonder. But then the fear won out again. “You wouldn’t just say that ‘cause you got no choice, would you Chris? There’s a lot of things I could stand, but I couldn’t stand that.”
“I would never just say that Vin.” Chris used his best serious voice. Vin moved slightly to wrap his arm around the upright frame. He bent his head down again.
“If it was anybody else but you Chris, I could stand it. If I ever drove you away, it would kill me.”
At first Chris took a little offense that Vin thought he could be driven away, but then he realized the soft declaration was being offered from a man who rarely showed such vulnerability as emotional need. To hear Vin admit out loud that he needed someone – needed Chris – was something entirely new and Chris found it very humbling.
“Well I’ll tell you Vin.” Chris stood and walked to stand in front of him. “If Rain Jackson couldn’t drive me away from you, I doubt there’s anything you could do to make it happen.” He could see Vin rolling that around his mind, and he was finally rewarded with one small chuff of laughter.
“C’mon.” Chris went on. “It’s still kind of early, and I know Buck’s still here. Why don’t you sit out on the deck with us and have some ice tea?”
“No.” Vin shook his head. “No, I’m just gonna take a shower and go to bed. I can’t say I’m particularly looking forward to tomorrow, but I won’t mind today being over.”
“Okay.” Chris moved past him toward the door. “Take it easy with those painkillers.”
“Yeah.”
At the door though, Chris stopped and turned, and Vin turned to look back at him. “I was going to say before –” He gestured at the desk where he’d been sitting. “ – if you need to talk, or anything…” He let the unfinished offer hang. “Buck thinks I wouldn’t be able to do it but I don’t want you thinking you couldn’t talk to me, about anything, if you need to.” Vin didn’t answer at first, and Chris pressed on.
“That’s why you don’t need to talk to somebody else, some stranger who doesn’t know you and has no idea what’s going on. You’ve got us, you’ve got – me. Okay?” Chris began to feel a little desperation to get the whole thought spoken without tripping over his words or embarrassing either one of them any more than he might have already done. “I know it might not be easy, for either one of us, but I expect neither one of us ever walked away from something just because it was hard to do.”
“No, I guess we’ve never done that.” Vin agreed softly.
“All right then.” Chris said after another moment. He felt better now, better than he had after Buck’s little lecture. He’d stand next to Vin, and Vin would get better. He would – and he could - watch out for Vin. “You get some rest, and I’ll check on you later.”
“Okay.”
+ + + + + + +
The night hadn’t cooled off any, and the humid air was completely still. Buck was on the deck, in the half circle of the backyard light, and Chris went out to sit on the top step near him. Overhead, through the half-open bathroom window, they heard the shower turn on.
“How is he?” Buck asked.
“Tired. Still worried this’ll get to be too much and I’ll throw him out. He’s gonna take a shower and go to bed.”
“And how are you?”
“Tired…but okay.” Chris had no intention of offering an apology, but he did want to clear the air. “Buck, even if I can’t say - that word – it doesn’t mean I can’t watch out for Vin, make sure he takes care of himself. If he’s having a bad day and he needs to vent, I can listen to him vent. If he needs – if he needs –.” Chris’ thoughts went back to the dark front hallway, holding Vin while he poured out his pain and anguish and outrage. Could that really have been just a few days ago?
“If he needs…?” Buck prompted.
“You know, I don’t remember once ever touching Steve? Except maybe a handshake. As bad as things ever got, as bad as he ever got, I don’t remember so much as putting my arm around his shoulders, just to let him know I was there.”
“He knew you were there Chris. When he was OK, he knew you were there. When he wasn’t OK – he didn’t even know where he was when he had those – those – well, whenever he got like that.”
“But when he wasn’t ‘like that’, Buck –.”
“Steve knew you were there Chris.” Buck repeated. “And Vin knows you’re there. I expect that’s the only reason he’s been able to keep going this past week. He’ll spend time with me, and he’s talked to me, and he’s talked to Josiah, but you Chris – right now you are his main support and comfort.”
“It wasn’t enough for Steve.”
“How many conversations are we trying to have here Chris?” Buck had to ask. “Steve or Vin? I gotta be able to keep track.”
Chris took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and rested his head in his hands. “Ohh, Vin. If he needs – to be touched – I can touch him.” He looked up at Buck. “You were holding him the other morning, in the kitchen when he was crying. I can do that. I have done that already, Saturday night. Words aren’t everything you know. Sometimes it’s what you don’t say that matters.” Chris didn’t which one of them he was trying so hard to convince.
“You’re right.” Buck’s easy agreement surprised Chris; he’d been expecting some kind of argument. “Vin’s never been a big word-person. You watch him – he watches a person’s actions and the look they get on their face, and he pays attention to what they mean when they’re talking, not just what they’re saying. All the talking in the world won’t get that boy to believe one thing he doesn’t want to believe. You’re right.”
“Buuuuuuuuuut…?” Chris asked after Buck didn’t say anything else.
“Buuuuuuuuuut –.” Buck said immediately as though he’d only been waiting for that prompt. Then he seemed to run out of things to say. He sighed. “But nothing Chris. I know you’ll take care of him, even if you have to go into hell to do it. Whether or not Vin talks to a counselor doesn’t have to be decided this minute, and when it does get decided, it’ll be decided by Vin and nobody else. The only thing our arguing will do is use up what little oxygen there seems to be left in the atmosphere tonight.”
“You got that right.” Chris said. Both men sat for awhile in silence, just looking out over the dark landscape, until Chris said softly, “I always knew you were there too Buck..”
SIXTY-SEVEN
Vin spent a long time in the shower, wishing the hot water could wash away everything, not just physical dirt. But he still felt dirty, no matter how clean he knew he was. So, he let himself be content with the hot water easing the ache in his back and hoped it would help him fall asleep.Today had been too long, and too painful.
After he used up all the hot water, he got dried and got dressed, and threw his laundry into the hamper. When he left the bathroom, he met Buck in the hallway, carrying Billy sound asleep in his arms.
“Hey Vin – hang on a minute.” Buck said quietly. “Let me set this bundle to bed, I wanna talk to you.”
“Oh – sure. Okay.” Vin wondered what Buck would want to talk about. Not that he thought it would be anything bad, he just was not up to talking about anything much at all. He went into the bedroom and sat on the lower bunk to wait.
Buck was there in a couple of minutes. He grabbed the chair from the desk and wasted no time. “How’re you doing?” he asked as he set himself down in front of Vin.
“I’m okay.” Vin said. But he didn’t even believe himself.
“Right.”
“I’m tired?”
“Well, that doesn’t surprise me…” Buck said. He seemed to be waiting for more.
“I don’t know what you want Buck.” Vin admitted. “I don’t guess I’m any better or any worse than I was twenty four hours ago.” Then he remembered exactly what had been going on twenty four hours before. He sketched his hand over the mattress he sat on. “Well, I guess I’m a little better than that.”
“Do you need anything?”
“Will you keep checking my apartment? I feel like I’ve abandoned it.”
“You know I will.” Buck said. He still seemed to be waiting for something and Vin couldn’t imagine what that might be. He was just looking at Vin like he had all the time and patience and compassion in the world.
“I’m okay Buck.” Vin repeated.
“Well, I guess I’d believe that a lot more if you weren’t sitting there hunched over like you were in pain, looking as pale as that pillow case and hanging onto the hem of Chris’ shirt like you’d disappear without it.”
That made Vin look down at his hands, and he saw that he did have a white-knuckle grip on the plaid shirt. Even though he saw it, and realized it, he couldn’t get his hands to let go, or even relax. He couldn’t move even when he saw Buck reaching out to cover one tense hand with his own. The touch was warm and oddly not distressing.
“It’s been less than a week Vin. It’s been five days.”
“Do you want me to be okay or not Buck? I can’t tell.”
“I don’t want you to be ‘okay’ just for appearances sake Vin, that’s all. Sometimes ‘okay’ is when you know it’s safe to not be okay.”
Vin appreciated, really appreciated that Buck wanted to reassure him, and comfort him, and give him every little bit of advice he could think of. But – Vin was tired and feeling a headache coming on. He wished Buck would just shut up, go home, and take his convoluted thinking with him. If he was OK, if he wasn’t OK, what the hell stinking difference did it make anyway? He’d been raped, not passed over for promotion.
“Buck – I just want to go to sleep, okay?” Just stop talking and leave me alone, okay?
“You’re gonna sleep in your clothes?” Buck asked. Vin’s hands still wouldn’t let go of Chris’ shirt, and the tail of the shirt curled up and around his fists as he brought his hands up to his chest.
“I don’t like not being dressed.”
“Vin –.” The tone was half questioning, half objection and Vin couldn’t stand it.
“Buck – does it matter what I sleep in? Does it really matter?” he snapped. “I’ve got stitches and fractures and lacerations I don’t even want to know about and if they don’t heal I’m supposed to go to some doctor and let him do to me what those bastards had to nearly kill me to do to me and going to work it hell and being alone is hell and JD hates me and Nettie won’t talk to me and God alone knows what Ezra is thinking so does it really really matter what I sleep in?”
“No Vin, I guess it doesn’t matter.” Buck said quietly. There was no mistaking the hurt on his face. “I’m sorry, I’ll let you get to sleep then.” He stood up and put the chair back where it belonged. Vin wanted to say something, apologize, thank him for being there all day.
“I just don’t feel good Buck.” He finally offered.
“I know.” Buck turned back to him, but he still looked hurt. “I just want you to take care of yourself. I’ve fallen asleep in my clothes, and it’s not comfortable, that’s all. I just want you to be comfortable.”
Vin wanted to say ‘that’s not possible’ but he only shook his head. He wondered if he’d driven Buck away too. He probably did. That thought added to his growing headache and made him feel sick. He wanted to tell Buck that he didn’t have to check his apartment anymore if he didn’t want to – but he didn’t want Buck to agree.
“You’ll come back tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I’ll come back.” Buck said. He smiled and the hurt look disappeared. “Don’t you worry about that.” He gave Vin’s shoulder a comforting squeeze as he walked to the door. “You get some sleep now – whatever you’re wearing.”
“Okay.”
++++++
Midnight. Chris woke up hungry and went downstairs, rubbing his eyes and covering a yawn, and managing to button his jeans and half tuck in his t-shirt. He wanted to get to the leftover ham before Mary mixed it with broccoli. He’d make himself a sandwich and have some ice tea and go back to bed.
Cowboy padded down the stairs next to him and ran to the sliding doors to be let outside. They were partially open and the outside light was on, and when Chris looked out, he saw Vin sitting out on the top step of the deck. He went out and sat down next to him.
“You okay?”
Vin shrugged. He held the picture of his parents over his heart again. He didn’t look up. When Chris checked on him a couple of hours earlier, Vin had been asleep.
“Buck said you didn’t feel well.”
“I yelled at him.” Vin said.
“That’s not what he said. He said you were tired and frustrated and didn’t feel well.”
“I yelled at him.”
Chris decided to concede. “Okay, so you yelled at him. Is that why you’re sitting out here?”
“I have a headache.”
“With those painkillers?”
“Yeah. The headache woke me up. I feel dizzy though, I didn’t want to take another painkiller on top of feeling dizzy.”
At first Chris’ brain automatically registered Vin’s concussion as the reason he was dizzy – but then he remembered all of what Buck had said Vin had to eat that day.
“You need to eat Vin, that’s why you’re dizzy.”
“I don’t want to eat.” Vin said, but he didn’t sound too sure. This was usually the part of the conversation when Chris would hear Vin’s stomach growl, but it didn’t happen this time.
“Having only milkshakes today is why you have a headache.”
“How do you know?” Vin asked.
“Because – I have a six year old son who’s not allowed sugar. You need more to eat than milk solids, lactose, carrageenan, polysaccharides, guar gum, and Carboxymethyl cellulose.”
Vin gave him a stunned look. “How the hell do you know all that?”
“Because -.” Chris repeated, a little tiredly. “I have a son who’s not allowed sugar. We memorize the labels of everything.” Vin didn’t say anything. “Come on in Vin, and we’ll find something you can eat. Bananas and milk? Cheese and crackers? Toast and tea with honey?”
“Tea anyway.” Vin allowed. “That’d be okay.”
They went into the kitchen and Chris waved Vin to a chair while he put water on for tea and took a tour of the cupboards and refrigerator looking for something he might persuade Vin to eat.
“Why don’t you try some ham Vin? It’s good.”
“No, just tea is good. I don’t want to eat anything.”
“You need protein.” Chris said.
“So – I’ll put a lot of milk in it.”
Chris grumbled and kept looking. The best he came up with was some of those little cubes – of what he was never sure – that were supposed to turn into beef broth in hot water, but they had to be older than Billy so Chris didn’t offer them as an option. He kept looking.
“Tomorrow Chris?” Vin’s hesitant question brought him out of the refrigerator. “What are we doing tomorrow?”
“I hadn’t thought about it.” Chris said. He was lying – he’d thought of almost nothing else all evening. He didn’t like any of the likely possibilities. “Something particular you’ve got in mind? Think you’d be okay with going to work?”
“Depends – you got a lot of meetings tomorrow? Or even one really really long one?”
“Nope, not tomorrow thank God.” Chris shut the fridge and came to sit at the table. “Tomorrow the lawyers get to be bored insensible by those idiots. Thanks to those meetings I survived yesterday and today, I got so much work to catch up on, I’ll probably never leave my office tomorrow.”
“Okay.” Vin said. He seemed to be gathering strength. “Okay, then I’ll go with you tomorrow.”
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