Color Blind

by Lalla Squeglia

  “Night.”

  She put a bucket by the bed, got him a glass of water, and flicked off the light.

  After a hot shower, she went to her own room and locked the door. You never knew what would happen. Despite the precaution, she didn’t sleep at all that night.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Nancy brought the coffee maker into her room at six forty five the next morning. Cole was still asleep, buried under the blankets. She hoped he would stay that way. After two cups of coffee and a hot shower, she went out again to get her backpack. She was almost back to her room with it when there was the sound of retching.

  Great. Cole was awake. She put her backpack in her room and went into the living room.

  Cole was leaning over the bucket, throwing up. Nancy stayed in the doorway.

  “Cole?”

  He lifted his head. He didn’t look good. He was paler than usual and his eyes were half-closed.

  “N-Nancy? When’d you get here?”

  “Cole, you’re in my apart-”

  But he was puking again. Nancy didn’t move. Eventually he collapsed, half-off the bed, his hair in his face.

  “Please…Dad left the stuff on the counter. Just bring it here, I can make it myself…”

  Here we go. The cravings.

  “Cole, you’re at my apartment. Remember? We came here yesterday. You’re going through withdrawal.”

  “Please…”

  She came a little closer.

  “Cole? Did you hear me?”

  He puked again. Nancy gave up and took the bucket to wash it out. When she brought it back, Cole was asleep. She put the bucket back and went into her room. It was best to leave him be-no matter how nice he was, he was still a withdrawing heroin addict. She had no idea what he would be like when he woke up again.

  Hopefully he’ll just stay asleep.

  She started in on her math homework, keeping an ear out for any more puking.

  * * * *

  When Nancy came back into the room a few hours later, Cole was still asleep. He had not puked again. He had, however, squirmed out from under the blankets and his shirt had ridden up. His back looked no better than his arms-if anything, it looked worse. It, too, was covered in bruises and scars, but these looked like they from something besides a needle.

  Good God, what happened to him at home?

  There was a set of three bruises in the middle of his back. Nancy couldn’t tell what they were from. Maybe he’d been thrown into something.

  He was shaking and she forced herself to step closer to him. She couldn’t bring herself to fix his shirt-that was too close-but she pulled the blanket back over him. He groaned and hugged his pillow.

  Poor thing.

  She went back into her room. Standing there watching him wasn’t going to make him get through this faster.

  “Nance?”

  She almost didn’t hear him. She went back out to see if she was imagining things.

  “Cole? Are you up?”

  “Y-yeah.”

  “How’s it going?”

  “Hurts. And it’s cold.”

  She nodded.

  “The worst of it should be over in another day or two. Do you think you can hold down some water?”

  “No.”

  His voice was weak and he did not let go of the pillow.

  “What about a hot shower? Could you manage that?”

  He did not say anything for a few minutes. Finally, he nodded.

  “Maybe.”

  “Want help?”

  “M’okay.”

  Nancy hung back, debating on what to do if he fell. He didn’t.

  “M’fine. Honest.”

  “Go on. Be careful and don’t crack your head on anything.”

  He didn’t smile. He only slipped into the bathroom. A second later, Nancy heard the door lock.

  * * * *

  Cole lay on the shower floor, feeling the water on his skin. He’d turned it up as hot as it would go, but it didn’t feel hot. It just made him feel numb. Better numb than cold, he guessed.

  He had raided the medicine cabinets for something, anything to ease the cravings, but all he’d come across was baby aspirin. He’d taken eight and puked them ten minutes later.

  Dammit.

  He needed a fix. Now. He would’ve given anything for even half of his regular dose.

  He became aware that the water was cold and he got out. He felt a little better. At least the aching wasn’t as bad.

  “Cole? Are you okay?”

  “Fine…I’m fine.”

  He pulled on a long-sleeved shirt. He hadn’t missed Nancy’s expression when he’d been in a tee-shirt. Not that he blamed her. It took him several minutes to open the door-why had he locked the damn thing in the first place?-and the effort exhausted him.

  “Done?” Nancy called.

  Cole jumped. He hadn’t realized she was right down the hall.

  “Yeah.”

  “Come on, you need to be back in bed. You look awful.”

  What do you expect me to look like? he thought. I’m withdrawing from fucking heroin, of course I look awful.

  He kept his mouth shut and went to lie down.

  “I’m going to bring you a glass of cranberry juice, okay? I want you to drink as much of it as you can.”

  “Why?”

  “It’ll help, trust me. Get comfortable.”

  He curled up under the blankets and closed his eyes. He wanted to sleep. His stomach clenched and he had just enough time to hang his head off the bed before he threw up. Nancy came back in with a glassful of reddish liquid. It looked like blood to Cole, but at the moment he didn’t care. He just wanted to sleep.

  “Okay…maybe water first, rinse your mouth out.”

  He hadn’t touched his water more than he could help, but he took a sip anyway and spat it out.

  “Good. Get comfortable. I’ll leave your juice by you if you think you can drink it.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To wash the bucket out.”

  “I can get it…”

  “No. Moving will make you feel worse.”

  She took the bucket and left again. Cole reached over for the cranberry juice.

  Might as well do what the doctor ordered.

  For some reason that thought struck him as funny.

  Great. I’m going crazy.

  He drank some of the juice, grimaced, and put the glass down. It didn’t taste very good-too sour.

  Nancy came back, set the bucket down, and moved to go.

  “Nancy?”

  “Yes?”

  “Will you stay here? Please?”

  She didn’t move for a minute, but then she came over and sat down on the other side of the bed, keeping as much space between them as possible. He rolled over. He couldn’t help it-he was always unnerved when he couldn’t see the person behind him.

  “I’m not going to hurt you, Cole. Don’t worry.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Shh. It’s okay, just try to go to sleep.”

  He nodded and pulled the blankets up over his head. The pleasant effects of the shower were wearing off.

  God, I need a fix. Please, please. I’ll do anything for it.

  He could hear Nancy scribbling on a piece of paper. When he looked, he could see a math book. Bummer. He pulled the blanket over his head again and listened to the sound of pencil on paper. It soothed him and he eventually managed to get to sleep. He did not sleep well.

  * * * *

  Nancy set down her math book and glanced over at Cole. He hadn’t moved since he’d rolled over earlier. She felt sorry for him-he looked like he was hurting.

  “No, no, please stop…”

  “Cole? It’s okay, you’re dreaming.”

  He groaned and rolled onto his side, his hair falling in front of his face. He was shaking.

  “I’m sorry, just please…”

  She didn’t want to wake him up. Withdrawal
was bad enough without being awake. She was surprised he was able to sleep at all-it was probably because he was sick.

  “Please, no…”

  “Cole, it’s okay. You’re okay, you’re dreaming.”

  “Dad, m’sorry…”

  “Wake up.”

  He curled into a ball and whispered, “Please, stop…”

  “Cole. Cole, wake up. You’re dreaming.”

  She had no intention of shaking him, but she didn’t want to let him suffer like this.

  “Please, please, stop, I’m sorry…”

  “Cole, wake up.”

  As Nancy watched him he sat up and puked. His eyes came to rest on Nancy and he scrabbled back.

  “Sorry…I didn’t mean…”

  “Why are you sorry? You didn’t do anything.”

  He rolled over and pulled the blankets over his head. Nancy got up to wash the bucket out. When she got back, Cole had not moved. She wasn’t sure if he was asleep or not, but she didn’t want to find out. She took her math book and her homework and went to her room, where it was safe.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Cole spent the next few days alternating between sick sleepiness and dope sick insomnia. He didn’t remember very much of it, only that if the phone rang his head would hurt for an hour or more. By Thursday he was able to see straight and the aches were fading. Nancy was not home when he woke up, but she’d left him a note.

  Had to go to work. Bucket’s by you. There’s cranberry juice in the thermos on the table. -Nancy

  Cranberry juice did not sound appetizing. He rolled over and made himself get up. He wanted a shower.

  The water was hot but he had to avoid getting his wrist wet. Well, he was pretty sure he did, anyway. He’d ask Nancy when she got back what he was supposed to do about it.

  God, he wanted a fix. He would have settled for half of his regular dose right now. Maybe even a quarter of his regular dose.

  No! No, I don’t want any more. Then I’ll end up moving back in with Dad and I definitely don’t want to do that.

  But the fix…the high…oh, Jesus, what he would give to feel that one more time. Just one more time.

  “Cole? Cole, are you up?”

  He hadn’t realized it was so late.

  “Yeah, I’m up.”

  “How’re you feeling?”

  He went out into the living room to go find her.

  “M’okay. Haven’t puked, anyway.”

  “How’s the cravings?” He shook his head. If he didn’t think about them, maybe they would go away. “Okay. Go sit down, check your fever, and I’ll be in in a minute.”

  He went. Nancy came in a few minutes later with a roll of gauze.

  “You really should get stitches for this. It’ll scar up.”

  “I don’t care at this point. I really don’t. I’ll be in long sleeves forever anyway, I really don’t care.”

  She shook her head.

  “What’s your temperature?”

  “Ninety-nine point three.”

  “That’s better.”

  “I guess.”

  “Hold out your arm and don’t move it.”

  He did. She unwound the bandage, being careful not to touch him. The gash was an angry red, with ragged edges. Cole didn’t want to look at it and be reminded of what he’d done. He looked at his hands instead. They were shaking.

  “Almost done. Keep it dry, for the most part.”

  “Okay.”

  “Good. Think you can eat something.”

  “No. How was work?”

  “Fine. A little busy.”

  “What time is it?”

  “A little after three.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Wow.”

  His arm was itchy and he moved to scratch it.

  “Don’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s not good for you to scratch. It’s like a mosquito bite. Scratching doesn’t help.”

  “But…”

  “No. Don’t scratch.”

  He frowned but lay back on the bed with his eyes closed.

  “Itchy.”

  “That’s normal. But don’t scratch.”

  “What happened the last few days?”

  “You were either passed out or raving about all sorts of things. You were kinda out of it.”

  “What day is it?”

  “Thursday. Sorry I wasn’t here this morning-since you weren’t awake or puking I didn’t figure I needed to call off work.”

  “You called off work?”

  “Of course! Withdrawal’s a bitch without having to handle it on your own.”

  He nodded. What little he did remember was not pleasant.

  “Thanks, Nance.” he said quietly. “You didn’t have skip work just because of me.”

  “Don’t be silly. Are you sure you don’t want to eat? Not even some noodle soup, maybe?”

  “Maybe…”

  “Chicken or chicken?”

  He managed a smile and pretended to think about it.

  “Chicken, please. I’ll get it…”

  “No. It takes five minutes at the most, unless I have to beat on my microwave.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay…”

  “Good.”

  Cole rolled over. God, he needed a fix. Now. He couldn’t get the memory of the high out of his head. Maybe if he concentrated on it, he could would feel better. Get a phantom high, as it were. That would be better than nothing, and maybe it would help him sleep.

  He couldn’t really remember the feeling and after a few minutes he gave up. His back was killing him.

  Nancy came back in with a cup. Whatever was in it smelled okay. Maybe it would stay down. He sat up and leaned back against his pillow. Nancy handed over the cup and sat down on the other side of the bed with the remote.

  “TV?”

  “Sure.”

  “Cartoons?”

  “Okay.”

  He couldn’t hold the fork and the cup at the same time.

  “Nance?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Do you have a desk or something I could set this on?”

  “Lemme see. You may have to use one of my textbooks.”

  “Okay. I can get it…”

  “You’re fine. Just sit still.”

  He managed to set the cup down without spilling any of the liquid. There was the sound of rummaging through a bag in the other room.

  “Nance?”

  “Hang on…found it!”

  She came back with a textbook.

  “Here. All good?”

  “Yes. Thanks.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Aren’t you going to eat anything?”

  “No, I got some food while I was at work. By the way…is anything broken? Is the, ah…is your wrist the only thing that’s injured right now?”

  He thought about mentioning his back but thought better of it.

  “No, that’s all.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  He just wanted silence. And a fix.

  No! No, I don’t want a fix. I don’t.

  But he did want one. If he’d known where Sean picked the shit up he would’ve gone over there to get some.

  “I have to make some calls, okay? Do you need anything before I go?”

  “No, I’m okay. Thanks.”

  She went away and Cole turned off the TV.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Nancy picked up the phone and looked at it for a long while. Dr. Grey had asked her to have lunch at the office with him today, and she had run for it. She had made it out the door before he could come out and driven home, but now she was scared about going back. She’d never run off before.

  Just do it. Call the number and say you quit. You have another job, so quit this one and leave the fucker behind.

  But she knew he lived close to here-she’d run into him a
few times on the street. All the same, she knew she had to get out.

  She dialed the clinic’s number.

  “Hello?”

  “Dr. Grey?”

  “Nancy! Where are you?”

  “Home. I quit.”

  “What?”

  She hung up.

  Oh my God, what did I just do?

  She swallowed and slid to the floor in front of her door, the phone falling from her hands.

  I quit. And I think that it was for the best. Five minutes to calm down and then go back out to make sure Cole’s okay. Just stay busy.

  She ended up needing fifteen minutes to settle down. She wasn’t going to mention this to Cole, but she was worried about running into Dr. Grey. It had happened before, what if he did something to her? Or followed her home?

  Even if he does, there’s two people here now, he can’t do anything.

  That was assuming that Cole would stay here. She had no idea if he would or not.

  For argument’s sake, he is going to stay here-at least for a while-so quit worrying and go out there.

  She had to use the doorknob to pull herself up off the floor. After another minute of waiting to make sure she wouldn’t fall, she left her bedroom.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Something was wrong with Nancy. She was overly chipper and unable to stay still for more than a few minutes.

  “Nance? Are you okay?”

  “Fine, just fine.”

  “You sure?”

  “I’m fine. Do you need anything?”

  “No, thanks. Nancy, are you sure you’re…”

  “I’m fine. Really. Just…ah…just got my grades for last semester. Kinda relieved about the math one.”

  “You’re not good at math?”

  “Not algebra. I hate algebra. It should be illegal.”

  “It’s not that bad.”

  “It is that bad! I’m never going to use it again, why do I have to learn it?”

  “If you need help, just ask me. It’s not that hard.”

  “It is that hard.”

  “Whatever you say, Nance.”

  “Don’t mock me!”

  “I’m not mocking you. I’m telling you the truth.”

  “Liar.”

  Cole rolled his eyes and made himself comfortable. The itching was going down now, and so was his headache. But he was worried about Nancy. If it was her grades she was happy about, that was normal, but she was acting more nervous than happy. She was talking too fast and she kept checking the door locks for some reason. He wondered why.

  None of my business. If she wants to tell me, she will.

  But he was worried anyway.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  It was another month and a half before Cole’s cravings started to ease up. It was two more months before he started flipping through the paper for job options.

  “You like to draw. Maybe there’s jobs available for a freelance artist.”

  “I don’t know who’s gonna hire me, though. I mean…with these.” He gestured to his arms. “With that kind of history, I don’t know if anyone’s going to take me on for anything.”