Against the Wall

by Alexa Land

  “I don’t feel like eating.”

  “Want me to bring it here instead of eating in the kitchen?”

  “I don’t want it at all.” I took his meal to him anyway, placing it on a little folding table. “I told you I didn’t want it,” he said, his tone harsh.

  “Please Zan, just a few bites. I made your favorite.” I’d try to feed him if he let me, but that would only piss him off.

  He turned his head away from me. I thought he was sulking at first, but then I noticed his shoulders were shaking almost imperceptibly. I put the tray aside and circled around to the front of him. He tried to turn his head away to hide his tears, but I grabbed him in a hug and held on tight. It was very unusual for him to start crying, so I assumed this must be a particularly bad episode.

  He sobbed into my shoulder for a while before putting his arms around me and saying, “What the fuck am I going to do without you, Christian? I missed you so much this past week. I just don’t know what I’m gonna do.”

  “You’re going to let me find you a caregiver,” I said softly. “I’m going to find you someone terrific, someone kind and fun and dependable. It’s going to be okay,” I promised, trying to hold back my own tears.

  “But it won’t be you.”

  “I know. I wish it could be.”

  “I’m going to miss you so fucking much,” he told me, his voice gravelly. “I love you, son.”

  “I love you too, Dad,” I whispered as my heart shattered.

  *****

  Eventually, I got my father to eat a little as I stood behind him and worked a comb through his tangled hair. This was a difficult task at the best of times, let alone when he’d gone a few days without brushing it. Truth be told though, I liked doing this. It made me feel connected to him, and I always longed for more of that. After I finally got his hair combed out, I managed to do a bit of cleaning before he told me he wanted to go to sleep. I covered him up on his couch and kissed his forehead. “See you soon, Dad,” I promised before heading back into the city.

  My emotions were raw as I headed back into the city. It was always upsetting when my father went into one of his blue periods, especially because I never knew how long they’d last. Sometimes it was just a few days. Once, it had lasted four miserable months.

  On top of that, I missed Shea, even though I’d just seen him this morning as we said goodbye on the dock beside the cruise ship. It was so incredibly tempting to go to his house. The thought of spending the night in his bed and in his arms sounded like the most perfect thing I could possibly imagine.

  But I had to put at least a little distance between us. We’d grown incredibly close on the cruise, and even though we’d both agreed to see each other over the next six months, that was supposed to be half a year of dating, not being together twenty-four/seven. The reason for that was simply one of self-preservation. I knew we’d both be devastated in June, but there was still a chance we could go our separate ways without it destroying me completely.

  I really didn’t need what happened next. The thought of going home to my empty apartment was so depressing that I decided to put it off, and drove past my work-in-progress instead. When I got to the alley where I was painting the girl in the field of daisies, I threw the Jeep in park and leapt from the car.

  I wanted to yell and cry and hit something, all at the same time. Some malicious little fuckers had climbed up onto my makeshift scaffold and destroyed my work by scribbling and tagging right over it. The back of the building was a vast expanse of open space, so if all they’d wanted to do was express themselves they could have done that easily, just a few feet to the right. But what they’d chosen to do instead was destroy. I never understood that malicious tendency in some people, the need to tear down what others worked so hard to create.

  I shoved the tower of pallets and boxes over with a yell of frustration. They landed with a huge clatter. I was mad at myself for giving those assholes such easy access to my painting. I should have thought to take down the structure before I left on my trip, but I’d thought people were better than this.

  I was shaking as I got behind the wheel and started the engine. Why that one, of all my murals around the city? I’d been really attached to that painting. Too attached, frankly, because I knew that half the stuff I did would get destroyed eventually. Usually though, I got to finish them first.

  I still didn’t want to go home, now more than ever. In the past when I was feeling like this, I would have gone to a bar and picked up some random guy, distracting myself with sex and taking comfort in at least a little human contact. But now that Shea was in the picture, I really wasn’t about to do that. I hadn’t told him, but I planned to be monogamous for the duration of our time together, not only because he was trusting me to keep him safe, but because he was all I wanted. Since we’d only been together a matter of days though, I wasn’t going to make this into a big announcement. He’d probably think I was nuts, committing to him that fast.

  I pulled out my phone and sent Skye a text, asking if he and Dare had made it home okay. They’d been on a later flight. It had been nice to spend a little time with him on the cruise, but it had been exactly that: a little. I knew I needed to make more of an effort where my best friend was concerned. There had to be a middle ground between becoming a third wheel and distancing myself.

  He texted back a minute later: Hey! We’re back safe and sound. Benny was so excited to see us, although he clearly enjoyed getting spoiled rotten by our landlady while we were gone. The cat is acting indifferent, but I think he’s secretly pleased we’re home. The Royal Rodent could care less.

  That was the name of his pink pet rodent, who’d started off wild. He still was, frankly. Another text from Skye popped up: What are you doing right now? Have you had dinner yet? We’re about to order pizza, you should join us.

  I’d intended to eat at my dad’s, but never actually got around to it. I wrote: Love to. I’ll bring cocktails, because why not?

  For the next couple hours, I tried to force myself out of my funk. I stopped by a liquor store and got the ingredients to make Blue Hawaiians, because Skye had loved them on vacation. At the little garden apartment he shared with his fiancé, I joked and laughed as the three of us hung out. Their cat Draco decided he liked me, and spent the evening sitting on my feet.

  I could only tolerate one fruity day-glow cocktail. After that, I switched to straight tequila, which it turned out that wasn’t actually an ingredient in Blue Hawaiians, but I’d bought it anyway. Dare switched to the hard stuff too, but Skye stuck with the neon blue drinks.

  I drank so much that things got messy. The messiness crescendoed with me sneaking off to the bathroom and drunk-dialing Shea. Twice. I was heavily buzzed by that point, so I pretty much made a total fool of myself with my rambling, telling him he was ‘awesome’ about eighteen times and saying I missed him over and over until voice mail cut me off.

  Later on, I started crying and hugging Skye and apologizing for being a terrible friend and not making more of an effort to see him after he became part of a couple. He was pretty drunk too, so this turned into a mutual hugfest. Dare laughed at us until I pulled him into a group hug and slurred, “I’m sorry I was such a douche, and I’m sorry I kissed Skye. I was so jealous of you. I didn’t want you to take my best friend away. But you two, you’re so good together! So good! It’s like you were made for each other. Promise me you’ll always, always, always take care of Skye for me, ‘kay?”

  Dare patted my back and said, “I promise.”

  “I’ve never actually seen you this drunk before,” Skye said with a grin. “How much tequila did you have?”

  “All of it.” I picked up the empty bottle and shook it. “Well, Dare had some, too. But I had the rest.”

  “You can sleep on the couch tonight,” Skye said. “No way are you driving home like this.”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. That made me a bit dizzy, so I stretched out on the area rug. “Drunk driving is bad. R
eally bad. Just say no to drunk driving, kids.” I considered that and added, “Wait, why are kids drunk? That’s so wrong.”

  Skye got up and smiled at me. “You just stay right there and continue your public service announcement. I’ll find you a blanket and pillow.” His phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket. When he looked at the screen, his smile got even wider and he sent off a quick text.

  “Okay,” I mumbled. “I love you, Skye. I love you too, Dare. I didn’t at first. I thought you were a douche. Well, you were a douche when we first met you. But after that I was the douche. There was much doucheyness. But now, we’ve put all that douche behind us. Wait, that sounds gross. Kind of crossed over into enema territory.” I paused for a moment, then asked, “What was I talking about?”

  Someone knocked on the door just then, and Skye laughed at me as he went to answer it. Dare held out his hand to me and said cheerfully, “Let’s get you off the floor, Christian.”

  When he pulled me to my feet, I said, “Damn. Everything’s all spinny. Did I really drink that much?”

  “Yup.”

  I held on to Dare’s arm to steady myself. “I have a really high tolerance to alcohol, though.”

  “Well, we all have our limits,” he said.

  Just then Skye returned to the living room, which was at the back of their apartment. Shea was with him, in full police uniform. “Oh my God, you look hot!” I exclaimed. The dark blue short-sleeved shirt emphasized his big arms and looked like it’d been painted onto his muscular body. “I didn’t think I had a thing for men in uniform. Maybe I still don’t. I just have a thing for Shea in uniform.” He grinned at me and took over the job of keeping me upright. I gave him a big smile. “Hi, baby.”

  “Hi, sweetheart.”

  “Whatcha doing here?”

  “Making sure you get home safely. I listened to your voicemails when I got off work. You sounded really drunk.”

  “Oh, I am.” I put my arms around him and held on tight. “How’d you know where to find me?”

  “You told me that you were in Skye’s apartment in the Western Addition, so I headed that way and texted Skye for the address.”

  “I forgot I did that. You had Skye’s number?”

  “You told me that in your voice mail, too,” he said.

  “I did? Why?”

  “Something about nearly dropping your phone in the toilet, so you wanted me to have that number in case your phone got flushed out to sea.” He looked amused.

  “Oh, right.”

  “Come on, Christian, let’s get you home.”

  I hugged my friends goodbye and promised to call them soon, then held on to Shea as we left the apartment. It was cold and windy outside, which helped sober me up a bit. “Don’t you have a coat?” I asked him.

  “I forgot it in my locker.”

  Shea asked where my car was and I directed him to it before asking, “How’d you get here?”

  “One of my coworkers dropped me off.”

  “How come you’re working today? You just flew home from Hawaii a few hours ago.”

  “I wasn’t supposed to work until tomorrow, but the flu’s taken out nearly half my station. Since they’re desperately short-handed, I agreed to go in.”

  “Because you’re awesome,” I told him with a big smile.

  *****

  When we reached my apartment, Shea looked around curiously as I took off my jacket and dropped it on the floor. I’d never bothered to personalize this space, so it was little more than white walls and functional furniture. It was always meant to be temporary, so I hadn’t wanted to get too attached to it.

  I pulled off my boots as I headed to the bedroom, hopping on one foot, then the other. My socks followed. Shea had to keep me from tipping over a couple times as I did that. I took off my shirt next, throwing it away from me, then my jeans. I dropped onto my bed in just my briefs and said, “I want you to fuck me, Shea. You’re the only person I’d ever trust enough.”

  He sat down beside me on the mattress and gently brushed my hair back from my face. “You’re way too drunk, Christian. We’re not going to have sex tonight.”

  “I want it, though. I want you in me. I’m not sure if I’ll be brave enough to go through with it when I’m sober. Please, Shea?”

  “No, sweetheart.”

  I felt disappointed as I picked up his hand and held it with both of mine. “I hate how much my rapist took from me. It’s because of him that I can’t bottom and can’t even be naked during sex.”

  “I know.” Shea was still tenderly stroking my hair. My eyelids were growing heavy, and he said softly, “Get under the covers, I’ll tuck you in.”

  I scrambled around and did as he said. “Please spend the night with me, Shea. I want you with me.”

  “I’ll only spend the night if you agree that sex isn’t an option.” When I nodded, he stripped down to just his boxers, putting his uniform on a chair in the corner before climbing under the blanket.

  As soon as he took me in his arms, I sighed and relaxed. He chuckled a little and I asked, “What?”

  “It’s really cute that you do that. I always feel the same way, that it’s a relief to be in your arms again, but you actually vocalize it.” He kissed the top of my head and rubbed my back soothingly as I drifted off to sleep, his heartbeat strong and steady under my hand.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Something was definitely wrong.

  I awoke in the middle of the night feeling far too hot. At first I thought I had a fever, but then I realized it was coming from Shea. His skin glistened with sweat in the light from the living room as his body twitched. A quiet moan slipped from him as he became more agitated.

  He woke himself up a few moments later and was temporarily disoriented, but then calmed when he saw my face. I put my hand on his forehead, which was surprisingly hot. “I’ll be right back, Shea. I’m going to find a thermometer.”

  I was rooting around in one of the drawers in my bathroom when Shea burst in and dropped to his knees, then emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet. His retching went on and on until he was just dry-heaving. Finally he fell back onto the tile floor, panting and shaking. “Oh God, I’m so sick,” he mumbled.

  I wet a washcloth with one hand as I flushed the toilet with my other, then knelt beside him and cradled his head as I gently washed his face. “Want to try to get back in bed, baby?” I asked him.

  He shook his head no. “I feel like I could throw up again at any moment.”

  I pulled a clean towel off the rack and folded it into a little square, then put it under his head as a makeshift pillow before getting up to look for the thermometer. When I found it, I slid it under his tongue and caressed his damp forehead until it beeped. “One-oh-two,” I told him. “How’d you get sick so fast? You were only at your workplace a few hours ago.”

  “This is something different,” he murmured. “The flu going around the station is all respiratory. Bad cough, not vomiting. Oh God!” He lurched back up and threw up in the toilet again.

  He was trembling when he laid back down on the cold tile floor and curled up in a fetal position, arms wrapped around his stomach. His body was covered in goose bumps. I retrieved a pillow and the comforter from my bed, along with a spare blanket from my closet and made him a little nest on the bathroom floor. Then I knelt beside him and said, “Some people want to be left alone when they’re sick. What about you?”

  Shea reached out to me feebly and I carefully drew him into my arms as I stretched out beside him. He curled up against my chest, shaking with chills, and I pulled the blanket up over his shoulders. After a while he whispered through chattering teeth, “You should go back to bed. You must be so uncomfortable.”

  “I’m not going to leave you here on the floor, baby, I’m going to stay and make sure you’re okay. If you get tired of being held, just say the word and I’ll scoot over and sit by the tub.” He hugged me tighter.

  *****

  Shea was
violently ill all the next day and called in to work, apologizing profusely for not being able to come in (all while being so sick he could barely talk). When the vomiting had leveled out a bit, I’d moved him to the bed with a trash can close by. He couldn’t even hold down water at first, so I brought him ice chips to suck on, just so he wouldn’t become completely dehydrated.

  That evening, he still had a fever and was incredibly weak. I even had to help him to the bathroom. But he’d begun holding down water at least, and managed to nap on and off. I sat beside him, propped up against the headboard, and read to him from my Kindle between naps because he found it soothing. I’d selected a short story collection by Ray Bradbury, something I’d loved in high school.

  I held Shea’s hand and his other one snaked out from under the covers and absently stroked my bare knee. I’d pulled on a pair of gym shorts and an old sweatshirt at some point, and had helped Shea into a pair of sweats, some socks and an oversized t-shirt of mine to try to make him comfortable. He was so pale, his eyes underscored with dark circles, his hair spiky with sweat. It hurt to see him this way.

  When I finished one of the stories, I asked him, “Do you want to try to eat something, baby? Some crackers, maybe? Or I could make some soup if you feel up to it.”

  He shook his head, his voice weak when he said, “I can’t. Not yet. My stomach seizes up when I even think about food.”

  “Okay. Tell me when you think you want to give it a shot. Do you want another story?”

  “Yes please,” he murmured. I flipped a page with the tip of my index finger and started reading aloud again.

  A few minutes later a chime went off, so I set aside my ereader and retrieved Shea’s phone from the pocket of his uniform. His hands were shaking as he looked at the screen. “It’s Cas, could you let him know what’s going on?”

  “Of course.” I sent a text telling them where he was and started to put the phone on the nightstand, but picked it up again to read the almost immediate reply. Cas had written: Oh noooooo! Feel better soon, Shea! Let us know if you want us to bring you anything. Hugs!