The Sweet Under His Skin

by Portia Gray

  And now, instead of worrying, here she was remembering the time they snuck out when Thelma was sleeping to chase glow-bugs. They took Mason jars with them and headed out at something like one in the morning. Thelma had gotten up for a drink of water, found them gone and called the Sheriff's department. They'd had dogs tracking them and everything. Two little girls in nightgowns, showing up in a clearing, faced with barking dogs, clutching glowing jars and nearly pissing themselves because they were in so much trouble. That had been Arielle's idea, not Jolene's.

  She smiled at the memory, then covered her mouth and gave a sob. Oh God, she had no idea where her little sister was. Where her thoughts of Jolene were coming from she had no idea, but her heart froze in its place and she had to gasp to breathe, tears in her eyes. So when the phone rang she sobbed, covering her face with both hands and she knew. She just knew.

  It rang three times before she got there. Her hand was trembling, and when she picked up the receiver she had to close her eyes for composure. "Hello?"

  "Is this Thelma Reece?"

  "No, she's out in the yard. Can…" she swallowed,"…Can I give her a message?"

  "Is she related to a Jolene Mackenzie Taylor?"

  Her knees gave, and luckily the phone was mounted on the wall next to a vinyl padded kitchen chair, because she just barely made it to the edge. "Yes," Arielle said. "I'm…I'm Jolene's sister."

  "Your sister was just rushed to the emergency room at Broken Hill Hospital in Portus Felix."

  She was already sobbing so it couldn't get worse for the person on the other end to understand her. "Is…is she going to be okay?"

  There was a pause. "She's been admitted, she's in intensive care."

  "Okay," Arielle mumbled, wiping her eyes and sitting up straighter. "Thank you. We're on our way."

  She hung up the phone, waited a moment to stop crying, wondering if the darkness that surrounded her would ever desist, then stood and headed out through the screen door into the rear yard, eyes scanning for a sign of where Thelma might have gone. She caught sight of her in her long red skirt and bright yellow blouse, carrying a bucket towards the chicken coop.

  Arielle started her way, arms wrapped around her stomach, her heart hammering like she was all-out sprinting to catch her. When she was half-way to the chickens she started shouting for her, and even if she was weaker than usual her tone carried far enough to alert Thelma something was wrong.

  Thelma set the bucket down and headed her way, terse expression and annoyance now gone. "Arielle? Honey? What in the world is wrong?"

  That's when Arielle realized she'd started crying again. "The hospital... in Portus Felix... just called," she blubbered, taking a gasping breath between words. "Jolene's there... She's in... ICU. We have to go."

  Thelma was a rock for her right then. "Okay, hun, you go back to the house, get ready. I'll go get Calvin."

  Arielle was nodding and heading back to the house, trotting slightly until she didn't have the breath for it and walking rapidly the rest of the way. She headed upstairs, changing into a loose-fitting navy dress and her white cardigan, adding her bra for comfort's sake. She grabbed her purse, tossing her pills inside in case they were there for the night, then heading to the room Arielle and Jolene's parents shared when they'd visit Thelma. She went through the nightstand for Calvin's inhaler, couldn't find it, decided he likely had it on him, and grabbed the book he'd been reading, shoving it in her purse in case he got bored.

  By then she heard Thelma coming up the stairs. "Arielle, honey? You ready to go?"

  "Yes," she responded, meeting her aunt in the landing.

  "Okay. Come on. She's going to be fine. Let's go."

  On the trip to Portus Felix Calvin was upsettingly quiet, watching the world pass by the truck windows as Thelma drove. Arielle kept him tucked into her side, under her arm, her cheek resting on the top of his head. She told herself repeatedly there was no point worrying until they knew for certain what had happened. It was a hard sell, but it was keeping her calm.

  The hour stretched terribly long, but as soon as they hit Portus Felix town limits the truck was at the hospital in an instant. Thelma dropped them at the doors, Calvin and Arielle heading in while she searched for a parking spot.

  They found ICU with the help of a nurse and directions on the walls. Passing through a set of double doors it struck Arielle that now they were in the very quiet part of the hospital, which meant this was serious. No visiting families hanging around, no TVs in the rooms.

  At the desk a nurse told them where Jolene was, pointing with a pen. They followed the stark white corridor, turning a corner. Arielle halted when she noticed someone standing outside a door, completely at odds with the clean, sterile white walls and floor. Dressed in black, a crazed shock of black hair on his head and stubble on his face. Quentin's face turned their way just as she realized who it was.

  Her sister was in intensive care, who knew what for. And in spite of all that she still had a momentary thrill seeing him, which immediately faded to humiliation. The last time she'd seen him she'd said ugly things right after he'd…well…It was amazing how embarrassment and shame can overshadow what was really important.

  "Q!" Calvin cried, pulling away from her hand on his shoulder and rushing at their neighbor, nearly climbing him with dexterity she didn't realize he had.

  "Hey, buddy," Quentin said, terribly quiet, hands on Calvin's back, letting him hang off of him and hugging him in return. "Missed you, Chuckles."

  Calvin was crying. It was silent, but Arielle could tell by how he was shaking. Quentin rubbed his narrow, bony back, giving him a squeeze and finally making eye contact with her.

  She held her breath. Just one look into those bright eyes smiling back at her, and all the darkness that weighed down on her vanished. After a moment he nodded, which she mirrored back. She made her way towards them at a regular pace, arms around her middle again.

  "Hi," she said, voice small and unsure.

  "She OD'd," Quentin said, and Arielle was wishing he hadn't said that in front of Calvin but…Calvin would know eventually. "We found her in a dealer's apartment."

  Arielle nodded, surprised that he had been somehow involved again with her sister's stupidity. She stood there as he held her nephew, able to comfort him better than she could. At least with this drama it was only about eighty-percent as awkward seeing him as it normally might be.

  "We've been watching the room," Quentin continued. "These aren't good people. And she owes them a lot of money, Arielle."

  Her stomach sank. It wasn't bad enough her sister was unconscious, she was also in danger from outside forces? Then she absorbed that he'd been watching the room, protecting Jolene when he certainly didn't have to.

  "Come on, buddy," Quentin said, tone much more friendly with Calvin. "Let's find the doctor, see if she'll let you see your mom. Yeah?"

  "Okay," Calvin sputtered, wiping his eyes as Quentin set him back on his feet. Calvin's face was red, likely from embarrassment for crying in front of their neighbor. Quentin didn't seem to care, he just held a hand out which Calvin grabbed onto. Then they set off together, in the opposite direction than she'd just come from.

  Feeling strangely out of place, Arielle leaned against the wall, listening to the soft beeping and hissing of life-support equipment.

  The kid's grip on his hand was almost painful, not that Quentin would admit it. Quentin was hurting in a different way; all because of Aunt Arielle. Again.

  He really didn't want her away from him. No matter what he said or how he behaved, he didn't want her anywhere other than right by him so he could keep her safe. And not just to fuck her, which was the real kick in the head. If that had been the case he wouldn't have thrown her out of bed the other night for anything. Which had to mean he'd missed her.

  Not to mention she looked great, too. When she saw him she blushed, likely on account of what happened the last time they'd been alone together. He knew he was absolutely remembering the smell of t
hat soft skin deep in his head, the sound of her whimpering his name, the way she trusted him enough to get into his bed. The feel of everything she let him touch. And only him.

  He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose at the onset of a headache. The kind of headache that you get because of an urge to beat your head against a brick wall just to reset your circuits.

  The doctor that had been checking on Calvin's mom saw them coming, finished talking to a nurse and set her on her way before facing him.

  "Mister Bayle," she said, instantly on edge from his constant pestering. "I can't tell you anything. You know this. I can only release medical information to a family member."

  "I don't want details," he nearly cut her off. "This is her kid. He wants to see her."

  The doctor blinked a couple times, eyes sliding down to Calvin, who pushed his broken glasses up his nose to look back at her, holding Quentin's hand right close to his body.

  "Oh," the doctor said, taken by surprise.

  "And her sister is here now, too. You can fill her in on what's going on."

  The doctor nodded business-like. "All right. Let's go. Uh…I'm Doctor Sarin," she said brightly, hands on her knees as she stooped down eye-level with the kid. "What's your name?"

  "I'm Calvin," he said with a sniffle, and Quentin squeezed his hand to let him know it was all okay. The doctor saw it as she straightened up. Something in her face got a bit softer, but Quentin wasn't in a mood to stew on that. They followed the doc down the corridor to Calvin's mom's room, and now Aunt Arielle was standing next to Thelma, who was quite surprised to see Quentin.

  "Okay," Doctor Sarin said, getting into bedside manner mode. "Who would like to see her first?"

  "Calvin," Quentin said, pushing his way into the role of authority figure. With the way that little hand was gripping his he'd be damned if the kid was waiting a single second to see his mom. He looked down to Calvin's up-turned face. "You want Aunt Arielle or Aunt Thelma with you, buddy?"

  "You," Calvin said pathetically, clutching his hand tighter again.

  "Nah man, they're family—"

  "You," he repeated sternly, his tone sounding a lot like Aunt Arielle when she way laying down the law.

  Quentin checked with Thelma and Arielle silently. Arielle's eyes were watering up, but Thelma was nodding. "Go ahead, Quentin. We'll wait right out here."

  Quentin was cool with the idea right up until that door closed behind them. One look at the form on the bed and he had a really bad feeling. A machine was breathing for her. That was never a good sign. A monitor was beeping along with her heart, and a huge tube was taped to her mouth, shoved down her throat to force air into her lungs. Wires were running into the hospital gown all over. And it was quiet in that room. There were no chairs. The only thing the family could really do in this situation was say a few words, pray, and leave, because there wasn't a lot going on with the person taking up the space.

  Quentin had been hanging outside the room on and off the past day and a bit. Calvin's mom only got here because Colton called in an anonymous 911 on her, the rest of Dead Men taking the dealer-shit stain with them. Then Quentin started hanging out, wondering if this Reuben bastard was the kind to kill to collect on a debt.

  He heard the doctors; he knew she was pretty fucked-up. They were worried about brain function. And like he'd noticed, she wasn't breathing on her own. To Quentin it seemed like they were basically keeping her around to ask the family if they should yank the power cord. Quentin wasn't going to say that, though.

  Calvin let go of his hand and approached the bed, on the side his mom's face was sort of tilted towards. He was taking careful steps and made no noise, he just stood against the rails, hands resting on them lightly, chewing his lip.

  "Mom?" the kid whispered, and Quentin had to turn around. He pressed his finger and thumb into the corner of his eyes, fighting down the sting that had suddenly kicked in. What was this now? Christ. He should check a calendar and see if he was getting his period or something.

  "It's okay. I know you love me. I love you, too. But I'm going to be okay."

  Nope, jamming up his eyes didn't help. Quentin's nose prickled, and he felt water squeeze around his fingers despite his attempt to stop it. He took a few steadying breaths, jumping a bit when he felt Calvin take his hand again. He wiped his eyes and sniffed a couple times, swiping at his nose, too.

  "You all right, kid?" Quentin asked, like he wasn't the one springing leaks all over.

  Calvin nodded, his lip trembling. "I feel bad," he shared on a whisper. "I wasn't even worried about where she was."

  Quentin crouched down to his heels, turning Calvin to face him. "Listen Charlie, I don't know what to do here. I don't know what to tell you. All I know is, you're right. You're gonna be fine. You got two ladies outside who'll tear down walls to keep you safe. They care about you so much."

  "And you?" the kid whispered next.

  "Of course, little man. I'm absolutely, hundred percent here for you. I know, sometimes the girls can be tough to be around."

  Calvin nodded. "This is going to be bad for Aunt Arielle."

  Quentin put his hand on the kid's head, giving his hair some rough treatment. "You know what though? Aunt Arielle's a grown up, so you don't worry for her too much, okay? She's tough. And the thing about being a kid is the adults that care about you are worrying about you. That's our job, okay? You don't have to worry about us, buddy." Calvin nodded and pushed his glasses up. Again, Quentin was pissed they were still broken. "You need to talk, you come see me, okay?" Quentin said, reinforcing what he'd been telling Calvin all along.

  "I will," Calvin promised, taking his hand again. Quentin figured he was okay and stood, letting the kid lead the way to the door. He wasn't going to force him out.

  When the door opened Quentin realized Calvin wasn't the one he really had to worry about.

  The look on Arielle's face struck him deep; she was not going to be okay. At all.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Cyclophosphamide. Kills T-cells. Also causes nausea, vomiting, bone marrow suppression, diarrhea, darkening of the nails and skin, hair loss and lethargy.

  Doxorubicin is an anthracycline antibiotic, also known to cause heart damage.

  Fluorouracil causes cancer cells to commit suicide. It can also screw up your liver.

  Arielle knew the names of the poisons making up the cocktail being drip-fed into her arm. Somehow none of it mattered, because somewhere in this hospital her little sister was in a coma, maybe even a vegetable. And Arielle couldn't make it better.

  Arielle had wept to see the state Jolene was in; skin and bone, bruises all over. Quentin told her Jolene was handcuffed to a radiator on a mattress in a nasty apartment. She owed drug dealers money, and she'd OD'd on heroin. No one could confirm if Jolene had been raped. Apparently there was bruising, but no way to know for sure until she opened her eyes and said the words. Arielle was nearly sick at the thought of her little sister being hurt that way.

  It all came back to the little sister part. Arielle was supposed to take care of Jolene. And she hadn't.

  Undergoing her sixth visit to the chemo room, Arielle was struck by how depressing the place was. They tried to make it nice. There were flowering potted plants everywhere, the drugs were administered while you sat in big, comfortable recliners. Contemporary music was playing on the speakers. But it was all room spray over a big stink. Everyone here was dying.

  Thelma and Calvin were up in Jolene's room 'visiting'. Thelma would talk to her for their 'drop-in', Calvin would silently hold Jolene's limp hand. Everyone was on standby, waiting to happen, paused like they'd been dipped in concrete and were now stuck this way.

  It made Arielle insane. At first, yes, she'd been distraught but now she was pissed off. This was Jolene. This was so Jolene it almost made Arielle laugh. But she couldn't, because she was sick all the time and exhausted and basically resigned to the fact that all this chemical torture was actually going to kill her. And
the two people who still cared about her were almost unreachable now. Calvin shut down because Arielle was sick and Aunt Thelma was beside herself with worry for Jolene. Arielle felt she had no right to make them look at her and demand that they feel sorry for her.

  And Arielle wanted Quentin.

  She closed her eyes, feeling tears well up. The neighbor was still Calvin's best friend, and as the women in his life fell apart Calvin basically lived at Quentin's. The 'no going inside the house' rule was completely dissolved by this point, and many times the two of them just spent an evening watching TV. Arielle trusted that they weren't watching anything past a PG-13 rating, but…what the hell did she know? The only time she saw her neighbor was when he'd carry a fully-asleep Calvin back to her house, tuck him in bed then leave with just a quiet and indifferent "Goodnight."

  Quentin didn't come over and say hi. He didn't tell her she was beautiful anymore. He never leered at her or gave her those blatant physical appraisals. He was a polite and cordial man living next door, and it hurt her.

  Arielle could all but see the walls going up around herself. She'd done a great job cutting everyone out of her life. And a big part of her was waiting, or hoping, that Quentin was going to just tell her she was being a self-pitying idiot and needed to smarten up. But he wasn't around. Not around her anyway. She missed him; with an ache she missed seeing him, garnering his attention.

  Thankfully Arielle had these dates every two to three days to look forward to. Just her and her IV drip. Good times. At least this was the end of a course and she'd have a couple of weeks to recover now.

  When she was done and ready to curl up in a ball and mope for a good ten hours, Arielle wandered to ICU and found Thelma and Calvin. Thelma gave her shit for not waiting, but Arielle was willing to bet her aunt didn't even know how much time she'd spent there hoping for a sign that Jolene was home and the lights might be coming back on.

  Thelma took them both back to Arielle's house, then decided Calvin needed a treat. Ice-cream. So Arielle headed straight to bed, pulling on flannel pants and a T-shirt, curling up in a ball and waiting to get sick. It happened every time.