a nice blend of sheepish, defensive and delighted with himself.
“You’re pregnant.”
“Ha ha.”
“Worse,” Sean said darkly.
“Oh Jesus,” I said, realization dawning. “You haven’t.”
“He fucking has.”
“Jenna?”
Dec had his arms folded and his chin out, and he had gone a fetching shade of pink. “I’m happy. Is that all right with you?”
“Dude,” I said. “Did you get hit on the head too? Remember what happened last time?”
Sean turned up his palms: Exactly. Dec and Jenna had gone out for less than a year, during which they had broken up like six times. The last time had been a dramafest of epic proportions involving Jenna showing up at Dec’s work four days running to beg him through sobs to try again, cutting the letters “FUCK YOU” into a T-shirt he’d left at her place and couriering him the remains, and shooting off furious incoherent wall-of-text messages to all his Facebook friends including his parents.
“That was last year. She was going through a lot. She’s sorted her head out now.”
“He’s going to wake up one morning with his dick in his mouth,” Sean said.
“He should be so lucky,” I said. “He’s going to wake up with a thing, a positive pregnancy test in his face.”
“Do I look thick? I use johnnies. Not that it’s any of your—”
“She’s not thick, either. All it takes is a pin and boom, who’s the daddy now?” I was loving this, every second of it. For the first time since that night I felt almost normal, I felt like an actual real person. I hadn’t realized just how rigid with tension my whole body was till some of it melted away, and the dissipation was so ecstatic that I could have laughed or cried or kissed them both.
“Fuck off,” Dec said, aiming a middle finger at each of us. “The pair of yous. I’m happy. If it all goes tits-up, then you can say I told you so—”
“We will,” Sean and I said, together.
“Be my guests. Until then, if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all. And you”—me—“you need to be extra nice to me. Want to know why?”
“Don’t go changing the subject,” Sean said.
“You shut up. Here,” Dec said to me, leaning in, with one eye on the door and a grin lurking. “What meds are you on?”
“Why? You want some?” I tilted my IV bag invitingly in his direction.
“Ah, deadly. Just give us a quick sip.”
He pretended to reach for it; I swiped his hand away. “Fuck off. I’m not sharing.”
“Seriously. What’s in there?”
“Painkillers. The good stuff. Why?”
“See?” Sean said, to Dec. “Told you.”
“He didn’t say what kind of painkillers. It could be—”
“What are you on about?” I demanded.
Dec reached for his inside jacket pocket and, with that eye on the door again, produced a silver hip flask. “We brought you another present.”
“He brought you another present,” Sean told me. “I said he was a fucking eejit. Mix that with serious meds, you could kill yourself.”
“What’s in there?” I asked Dec.
“Macallan’s, is what’s in there. Sixteen years old. Cask strength. Only the finest for you, my son.”
“Sounds like the business,” I said, holding out my hand.
As soon as it came to crossing the line, of course, Dec looked taken aback. “You sure?”
“Jesus, dude, you’re the one who brought it. Or are you just, just prick-teasing?”
“I know, yeah. But would you not Google the meds first, see if—”
“What are you, my mum? Hand it over.”
He threw a dubious glance at the IV bag, like it was an untrustworthy dog that might go for my throat if it was disturbed, but he passed me the flask. “He’s right,” Sean told me. “For once. Google the interactions.”
I uncapped the flask and took a deep sniff. The whisky filled my nose, rich with raisins and nutmeg, with reckless late nights and helpless laughter, idiotic stunts and long earnest meandering conversations, everything that stuck up a middle finger in the face of this godawful place and all the last godawful week. “Oh yeah,” I said. “Dec, dude, you’re a genius.” I tipped my head back and took a huge swallow. It burned beautifully, generously, all the way down. “Hah!” I said, shaking my head.
The two of them were staring at me like I might spontaneously combust or fall over dead at any moment. “God,” I said, starting to laugh. “You should see your faces. I’m fine. Here—” I held out the flask. “You pair of pussies.”
Surprisingly it was Sean who, after a moment, let out a laugh and took the