Winter Solstice in St. Nacho's (St. Nacho's #5) - Z.A. Maxfield Page 0,35
I’ve done. My bloodwork came back good. No STDs, no Hep C. I could hardly believe it. I still need a second set of tests for HIV to be sure.”
“That’s awesome news.”
“Hell yeah it is.” He gave a shove with his foot and the swing started rocking. “I do have PAWS, though, so… I dunno.”
“What’s that?”
“Post-Acute Withdrawal Syndrome. It’s a fancy acronym that means my brain is fucked up.”
I’d read about that. “How is it affecting you?”
“I can’t sleep. I can’t focus. I have major mood swings. Doc says it’s normal, and I’ll eventually get better. Right now, though, I’m on antidepressants, and I take trazodone to help me sleep. Trading one drug for another isn’t how I thought this would go, you know?”
“I’m sorry.”
He nodded. “I guess I have to take them for now.”
I shifted so I was sitting on my foot and the other wouldn’t drag the swing to a stop. It turned my body toward his. He mirrored the position, except he pushed the swing with his free foot. It felt oddly cozy. It felt like we were friends, chatting at the end of the day.
“Are you glad you came here?” I asked.
“Glad? No.” He gave a sheepish grin. “Grateful? Maybe.”
“Have you contacted anyone in your family?”
“No. There’s no one but my dad and stepmom. I’m not calling them.”
“Have you considered finding your birth mother?”
“Never.” A look of pain crossed his features. “Not once.”
“I understand. I was just thinking—”
“No, actually, you don’t understand. You come from, like, a dollhouse family. You grew up in a fucking comic book store. You can’t possibly understand.”
“Tug—”
He mimed holding a phone. “Hi, Mom. I’m calling you from rehab. What’s been happening in your life for the last quarter century?”
I’d overstepped and badly. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“What’s up with me?” He seemed determined to play this out until the bitter end. “Well, I was blowing dudes in truck stops for cash to buy dope, but when that didn’t pan out, I just stole shit.”
“I said I was sorry.” He broke my heart. “You’re right. It was a crappy suggestion.”
He raked his hands through his hair, which was so long it covered his eyes. “Even I’m not that self-destructive.”
Rather than apologize again, I laid my hand over his.
He stared at our joined hands for a few breathless seconds, then turned his hand and laced our fingers together. “This okay?”
“Yeah.” I didn’t get a romantic vibe from him. The contact felt more like the simple human affection we’d shared in the motel when he was sick and seeking comfort. His tentative touch was like brushing up against by a half-dead feral cat. I doubted he had the bandwidth for anything more.
I put myself in his shoes—utterly alone and going through some pretty major life changes. A little handholding probably wasn’t a bad thing.
The squeak of the springs accompanied night sounds. Crickets, and a breeze rustling the leaves of the walnut trees. Overhead, a few stars battled the ambient light.
The half-full moon sat low on the horizon. Half-empty moon? Its surface flushed faintly orange, due to smoke from the fires to the west. The air carried residual heat from another scorching day.
One by one, cars left the farmhouse. In the distance, a couple of dogs barked their excitement over something.
“I should probably go.”
“Sure. I’ll see you out.” He let go of my hand. “Thank you for coming.”
I nodded. “I’m glad you invited me.”
“I wasn’t sure you’d actually make it.” He picked up his cigs, and we carried our cups and napkins inside. “Not until you got here.”
“I’ll keep in mind that you need to rebuild your trust muscles.”
“Cause I’m the one who usually fucks people over.”
“You probably did that preemptively, don’t you think?” I asked. “Get them before they can get you?”
“No, I’m pretty sure I just didn’t give a shit.”
For some reason, that made me laugh. “Well, as long as you own it.”
He stared at me, his eyes shimmering in the bright kitchen light. “You’re a good friend, Luke.”
I searched for something reciprocal to say but went blank.
“That’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. Just… I wanted you to know.”
I patted his shoulder. “Good job making thirty days. Keep in touch.”
“I will. Thanks again for the gifts.”
I waved to Dr. Franklin, who was putting the table back in the center of the room as Tug walked me out. “You guys need help putting things away?”
“I’ll get it.” Tug waved me off. “Go home and get some sleep.”