“I’m sorry if I keep you up at night, Susy. I didn’t realize I was screaming. I’ll probably get our asses booted out of here if I don’t get my shit together.” Tristan scrubbed his hands down his face as he thought about getting them tossed out because he was a fucking head case. It wasn’t a five-star place, but it was comfortable and clean and in a decent neighborhood. Plus, if they lost the place because of his recurring nightmares about something he couldn’t even clearly remember during the day, he’d be seriously ready to end his existence, even when things were starting to work out for him.
Sensing Susy staring at him, Tristan looked up to see a tight smile on her face and a pained look around her eyes. “We won’t get kicked out, Tristan. It’s not that bad…your room is on the outside wall anyway. I was hoping at some point you would trust me enough to tell me what has you tied up in knots, but it’s okay, too, if you don’t want to.”
“No,” he rocked his head back and forth. “You’re a great friend, Sus…you need to know. I was having a complete manic episode and felt like I was invincible. I took a girl to a BDSM club and hurt her without realizing what I was doing,” he cursed under his breath. “I crashed out of it and the owner of the club took me to the hospital, where I was admitted to the psychiatric unit. I was diagnosed as being bipolar, which you already knew, but nothing seems to be helping me to get back to normal. And that worthless therapist I had to see every week said I had yet to make any significant progress, and was recommending I take more and more drugs to the point I’m at now. For all the drugs I fucking take, you would think I’d be a zombie.”
Tristan shrugged. “I have no recollection of the nightmares once I’m awake, other than knowing they are about my childhood. They feel real for a bit when I wake up, and then my panic attacks start. During the day, it’s not so bad, but…”
Susy wrapped her arms around his waist and encouraged him with a squeeze. “But what, Tristan?”
He hmphed and answered with a sigh. “I feel so off…Those doctors didn’t listen to a fucking thing I had to say, and I really don’t want to take so many god damn drugs just to keep going. But at this point, I’m scared to stop taking them. What if I turn into a monster again?”
Another long sigh and then Tristan sank deeper into the couch and rested his head on the back. Susy didn’t say anything, just held onto him tighter and then started humming softly. It was actually funny that she wasn’t scared shitless now that she knew what he was capable of and what had happened to bring him to this point.
He chuckled and she ceased long enough to sit up. Then she exaggeratedly continued humming the song right in his face. “Don’t like singing? Humming? That song?” she teased after she stopped.
He pulled his eyebrows together and told her in all seriousness, “Susy, I just told you that I’m a drugged out psycho and you calmly hum a love song against my chest. Maybe you’re as fucked up as I am.”
Susy rolled her eyes and pushed against his chest. “I don’t think you’re fucked up…on the contrary, actually. I think you got stuck with some horseshit doctors and you need a second opinion and a new track that doesn’t include so many drugs. But you’re you and I’m me,” she accentuated with her finger pointed to him and then back to herself. “I’m not a doctor, and I’m damn sure not going to get in your face about something unless you ask for me to help. Otherwise, I’ll be your best friend and hold you if or when you get scared, and sit with you when you’re upset, and listen when you need to vent.”
“Pl-u-s-s,” she drew out as she uncovered herself and climbed out of their cocoon on the couch, “I’ll feed you when you’re hungry. Come on, punk. I’ll dish up our supper and we can eat our din din on paper plates on the lovely indoor grotto we have.” Susy laughed as she motioned to their indoor patio furniture with a wave.
Tristan didn’t immediately get off the couch, just sat there letting her words sink in. A new track that doesn’t include so many drugs…I’m not going to get into your face about something unless you ask for me to help…otherwise, I’ll be your best friend…
Everyone else had always jumped right out and just tried taking things over and telling him what he should and shouldn’t do. It was absolutely refreshing that Susy was content to only be his friend and not try to fix all his problems. She knew now what he was capable of in the past, and it didn’t send her running for the hills. Granted, she may change her mind in a day or two or three, but her gut reaction was not of fear, not of pity, or a feeling of conquering an obstacle for him…
Susy was happy to be with him, as he was…
And right now, she was his best friend. And hopefully he was hers. Because the contentment that spread through his gut as he thought about it made him feel better than he’d been in more than a month.
Chapter Six
The ensuing party that night wasn’t obscenely crazy, but their next door neighbors did come over to ask them to keep it down, but then they stayed to have a few drinks as well. Tristan started mixing up and passing out shots galore to the group, and even had a chance to talk with one of Susy’s older friends who was into fitness. He was a wealth of information and the pair talked for a long time.
Tristan found himself good and plastered at midnight, and was just thinking about ending the party when Susy’s friend Shane started a drinking game in the dining room. Knowing he’d reached his limit, he didn’t join in, but stood behind Susy’s chair and watched her, practically growling when she repeatedly lost and had taken quite a few shots of tequila in her little body in a short amount of time. Not feeling like taking his roommate to the hospital for alcohol poisioning, he called out, “Last time” and gave all the other players a stern look so they knew Susy had had enough.
They were playing a shot pyramid. The last person had to put the remaining full glass on the top or risk taking the entire round of shots for the table if he or she failed. The number of people sitting at the table made it almost like Susy was bound to get hammered no matter which way things went, and he was all but ready to toss the fucker out the door who started this game.
Of course, Susy couldn’t get her shaking arms to place the last glass on the pyramid, and the four remaining shots were passed over to her. Tristan pulled her chair out before she could take the first one and hoisted her out of her seat. “You could fucking kill someone with this game. No more. She’s done.”
The guys sitting on either side of Susy agreed and one even added, “Yeah…I don’t remember the rules of this game being quite like this Shane. She’s had enough.”
“Fucking pussies,” Shane told them as he stood up and his chair went toppling behind him. “I can easily put these last four away. You guys just can’t handle yourself.” He started to reach for the pile of shots across the table and Tristan made a quick decision that he didn’t want anyone leaving his house completely bombed like that. But Susy had already passed out in his arms and he couldn’t risk setting her down in her room before disposing of the last of the booze.
All that was left on the table was the four shots and one extra nearby, so with his one free hand, Tristan precariously balanced his roommate in his arms and grabbed the five remaining shots, slamming them back in succession. He’d almost dropped Susy in the process because she was dead weight in his arms, but he managed to keep her from falling.
Tristan backed away from the group and said directly to Shane, “I bet you set this up to get Susy so drunk you could end up in her bed. Even if you deny it, fucktard, I wouldn’t believe you. I don’t ever want to see you near her again. You got it?”
Shane didn’t even deny the accusations, and flipped Tristan off as he stormed off. The few remaining people who were left in the apartment muttered some apologies to his back as he took Susy to her room. The shots he’d just hammered back were starting to take hold of him, and he was quickly slipping into a darkened haze.
The last thing he remembered was falling into Susy’s bed and her landing next to his side.
I’m
dying…Tristan thought. That is the only rational explanation for why my head is throbbing and my throat feels like I swallowed a cactus.
Within moments of his brain functioning again, Tristan remembered why he felt like a mariachi band was playing in his brain and someone pooped in his mouth. It took every ounce of strength he could muster to pull his arms in closer to his body from where they were stretched out and work at sitting up in what he hoped was Susy’s bed.
Just the tiny movements he’d made were making the room spin and his head throb, and Tristan slammed his eyes shut again to try to keep his head from exploding in pain. His stomach rolled inside him and the poison he’d ingested last night must still be wreaking havoc; it was hard to breathe without adding to the waves of nausea that were bubbling up from his guts.
Just fucking kill me now…
As slowly as he could feign, Tristan scooted back down in the bed and almost cried man tears in relief when the vertigo and nausea eased from his body. His prayers for a quick death weren’t answered, but the relief must have been enough to relax him back into sleep.
“Hey, punk. If you don’t wake up soon, Gabriel’s gonna come over here and kick your ass,” Tristan heard through the fog in his brain. Years must have passed since he’d awoken in a nearly catatonic state and barely made it out of the pain when sleep took over again. Well, not years, but his body certainly felt like he’d been stuck in the same position for far too long. His legs felt like heavy bricks attached to his lower half, his arms were tied down and his head was suddenly way too large for his neck to support. In short, he wasn’t sure if maybe he was in an accident of some kind and was permanently paralyzed.
“Tristan, honey, I need you to wake up. You’re starting to scare me…”
That was enough to make Tristan push his protesting muscles until he could move himself toward the voice. He assumed it was Susy, but right now, Tristan wasn’t sure he was even truly awake, or even alive for that matter. Even his scalp hurt, but he could hear the fear in Susy’s voice and made himself move.
“I’m alright, Susy. How long have I been out?” Tristan answered her and slowly opened his eyes; he was absolutely shocked by what he saw. He was still in Susy’s room, on her bare bed with no sheets or blankets, but he was clad only in his boxer briefs. That wasn’t even what freaked him out the most…what got him was that Susy was sitting on the side of her bed, fully dressed in her work uniform and he could smell the grease odor from her clothes. She’d obviously already been to work and he’d been out for quite some time.
“What time is it, Sus?”
“It’s eleven o’clock on Wednesday night. You’ve been out for over twenty-four hours,” she said with a sigh. “Gabriel covered the bar for you tonight, and I told him you had the flu. I think he knew I meant the bottle flu, but he didn’t ask me any questions. But you’re supposed to call him.”
“Ahh, fuck,” Tristan groaned and sank back into the pillows. “Christ, I feel like I was run over by a Mac truck. Did something else happen besides me getting bombed on booze? I swear, I was drugged or something, Susy.”
Tristan had closed his eyes again, but could feel Susy resting her hand against his forehead, probably checking his temperature. “I honestly don’t know, but if you want, I can take you to the ER. A few of my friends crashed here the night of the party, and they explained to me in the morning how you polished off a load of shots to keep Shane from slamming them and then driving home blitzed. I was praying that you were just hung over and exhausted and just needed to sleep it off. Let me get you some clean clothes and I’ll take you in.”
“No!” Tristan nearly screamed as he sat up in bed, making himself flinch in pain. Automatically, he relaxed against the wall and told Susy a bit quieter, “No. I’m sure it was just an overload of alcohol. I’ll survive.”
With as much strength as he could muster, Tristan moved his body slowly until he was sitting on the side of the bed with his legs hanging over the side. It hurt like hell and his head was protesting the whole way, but he needed to pee. And he could smell himself; he reeked so awful and he needed a shower. That was when he noticed that the bed was not only bare of sheets and blankets, but was wet.
Tristan groaned. “Oh, Christ. Did I fucking piss in the bed?”
He moved over so he wasn’t sitting in the wet spot and noticed that Susy was sitting in her chair across the room; nowhere near him at all.
“No, you threw up all over me, and then I threw up, but not until I made it to the bathroom. Your puke was all over you, your clothes and the bed, so I stripped it this morning and put stain remover on some of the spots.”
Tristan was mortified and prayed to every deity there was that this was a new nightmare he’d created, that this wasn’t really happening and he would wake up soon. Closing his eyes and clenching his fists against the sockets, Tristan did his best to wish himself out of this completely embarrassing and horrific situation. He’d passed out in his best friend’s new bed, thrown up on her, and then made her not only throw up, but then she had to clean up his mess before going to work hung over and covering his ass with his boss. Yeah, this was something he could write down as the day he’d spent the least amount of time awake in, but yet the most humiliating by far.
“I’m so sorry, Susy. Thank you for doing all that for me. I’ll trade you mattresses as soon as I can pull my head out of my ass and move them around. You go ahead and sleep in my room. I doubt I’ll be sleeping anymore after all that time being comatose.”
Susy yawned as she stood out of the chair in the corner and walked out of the room, scrunching her nose up the whole time. “I planned on it, punk. Not that I don’t love you, but damn it, that was fucking gross. But I’m glad you’re okay now.”
Tristan gave a humorless laugh and walked out behind her and headed straight for the bathroom. His bladder was screaming at him and he felt like he could shower for days and still not be considered clean.
Susy snuck into the bathroom first and called behind her, “I’ll take a super quick shower and be out in two minutes and then it’s all yours. Please at least text Gabriel to say you’re all right. I’m exhausted and I don’t want to deal with a pissed off Hispanic version of Mr. Clean showing up at our door tonight.”
Tristan sighed, but didn’t say anything because Susy had just gone above and beyond the call of friends/roommates the last twenty-four hours. She always needed a shower before bed, and she deserved to go first, if for no other reason than just finishing her shift at work on her feet for the last eight hours.
“I’ll do it right now, Sus.” He told the closed door before gingerly sitting down on the couch to wait his turn.
Im fine Gabe hung over but fine Sorry I missed my shift
Within seconds, the reply came back, You fucking scared me!
Tristan was going to apologize for freaking him out, when the next message came through right away, You scared Susy too, asshole LOL See you in the am
TTYL, was Tristan’s reply, as well as a loud sigh of relief that Gabe had eased off him quickly.
More so than he expected; he was thinking that Gabriel would send an ambulance over immediately, even if he said he was okay, and that they would rush him to the hospital and lock him up again. Maybe say it was a suicide attempt.
Tristan mentally and physically shook himself. No…you’re okay. Need to clean up, get something to eat and take your meds. No one is planning to lock you up for an admittedly stupid alcohol poisoning incident. You’re okay, he repeated to himself a few more times.
“Your turn, punk!” Susy told him as she came out of the bathroom wrapped in her fuzzy robe. “I love you, Tristan Hart, but that was a once in a lifetime deal. If you ever do that again, I will let you choke on your vomit instead of saving your ass,” she told him with a full-fledged belly laugh.
Tristan laughed along with her and got up from the couch to take his own shower. When he finally got to empty his bladder and get clean, things would look a lot better. He kne
w he wouldn’t be able to sleep anymore tonight, but he could certainly work out at the gym if he was up to it.
Just thinking about the energy it took to work out made him tired, and he knew that exercising wasn’t going to be on his list of things to do for the next day. Sitting on the couch and maybe watching a movie was probably the most activity he would see.
Shower first, then he knew what the next thing was he would do…figure out what to buy Susy as a Thank you for cleaning up my puke, and thank you for keeping me from suffocating on it present.
Chapter Seven
Tristan passed the time in the night watching a mindless program on a cable channel and watching YouTube videos until he fell asleep again near dawn. He even did a search on Google to get ideas for gifts for Susy, narrowing the choices down to a gift certificate for her nails somewhere, but that would mean actually going to one of those places to get it. His other choice was more of a joke than anything…a spot cleaner carpet shampooer. That was sure to earn a sharp jab in the ribs from Sus, but damned if it wouldn’t be funny to see the look on her face when she opened that box.
Light was starting to stream through the glass patio door in the living room, and Tristan was feeling cramped on the couch in the living room. He’d basically spent the last thirty hours of his life motionless…first he was passed out and comatose in Susy’s bed, and then lying down or snoozing occasionally on this crumby sofa and it was now Thursday morning. His muscles felt like jelly and he needed to get his ass up and do something before he started to grow moss.
Quietly slipping into the bathroom so he didn’t wake up Susy, he did his business and dressed in his work-out clothes. After how shitty he felt last night, there was no way he thought a trip to the gym would be possible for a while, but he was bored out of his frickin’ mind and it would do him some good to get his blood pumping through his body. If nothing else, he could go for a run to the local gym and back; he could tell his body wasn’t up for a full-fledged session in the gym.
Being With You (The Redemption Series) Page 4
