by Jana David
Ian
A loud thud woke me up, followed by the cursing of several low voices. It was pitch-black in the room, and a glance over at the clock on my bedside table told me it was only two in the morning. And then I realised something else. The other side of the bed was empty and cold. Allie was gone.
I got up, switched on a light and made my way towards the door, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. The quiet cursing continued, and I wondered for a second if I should find some kind of weapon to defend myself with, just in case.
As it turned out, we weren't being robbed. It was just Darcy,mindlessly drunk, his head hanging over the toilet, moaning something unintelligible every now and again.
Allie was rubbing his back in a soothing manner, while Sam simply watched, arms crossed, leaning against the wall.
“What's going on?” I asked, squinting my eyes in the bright bathroom light. It was pretty obvious what was going on. I just wanted the full rundown of events.
“Darcy's drunk”, Sam dryly observed. Well, I could see that.
I lowered myself to the floor, next to Allie, and tried to get Darcy's attention.
“Shitty night?” I asked, even though I doubted he would be able to give me a coherent answer. Something must've happened at his dad's place. Darcy wasn't the type to get pissed over nothing.
All I got from him was a cold, glassy stare, before he turned his head and vomited into the toilet yet again.
Allie answered in his place, continuing to rub his back while the dry-heaving eased off. I had to fight down a bout of my own nausea. Watching someone vomit was never pretty.
“Dinner didn't go so well tonight”, Allie said. “I couldn't get much out of him, but he said something about wanting his dad to rot in hell.” She looked over at me, and I got the feeling there was something else. Something she wasn't telling me.
“He's dead to me. So dead”, Darcy mumbled, eyes closed, chin resting on the toilet seat. And then he opened his eyes, stared right at me and said, “What are you doing here? I don't want you here. Fuck off.”
I wanted to blame it on the alcohol. I wanted to think he wasn't thinking straight, I really did, but in that moment when his eyes met mine, there was such clarity in them, it surprised me. Lost for words, I simply stared back at him, wondering what he meant.
“Darcy”, I heard Allie's quiet voice beside me.”You don't mean that.” There was something else in her tone. It was firm and cold, a far cry from the soothing voice she'd spoken in just a few moments ago. A warning, perhaps?
Darcy's eyes wandered over to her, and there was definitely something being said in their silent exchange. Something I wasn't part of. I didn't ask, though. Maybe I simply didn't want to know. We needed to get Darcy cleaned up and into bed. We could talk in the morning, when he was sober again.
It took another thirty minutes before we had Darcy tucked into bed, peacefully snoring.
Al and I watched him from the doorway.
“Are you sure he'll be okay?” she asked, resting her head on my shoulder. We were all tired.
“His stomach is empty”, I said. “He'll be fine. All he needs for now is some sleep. Tomorrow, though, that'll be hell for him.”
“Yeah, it probably will be.”
“Why didn't you wake me up?” I asked. “I could have come with you to get him.”
“I would have, but Sam was already up and I didn't see the point in all three of us driving around town in the middle of the night. You were exhausted from travelling. I wanted to let you sleep.” Again, I had the feeling she wasn't telling me everything.
It was around noon the next day, when Darcy finally decided to show his hungover face. He came shuffling into the kitchen like a ninety-year-old in need of a hip replacement.
“Morning. Sleep well?” I placed the leftovers of last night's dinner in the microwave and set the timer.
Darcy merely grumbled something that vaguely resembled a greeting, and then slumped into one of the chairs at the dinner table.
I got a cup out and started the coffee machine for him. I figured he needed caffeine to even function at the most basic level this morning.
While I went about the kitchen, fixing my lunch and making some toast for Darcy, I thought about the night before. His words had stayed with me long after I'd closed my eyes. The way he had looked at me, with such hatred, it didn't make any sense to me. What had I done?
“There you go, Zombie”, I said, placing a cup of hot coffee in front of him.
Darcy held the coffee cup with both hands, his index finger restlessly tapping on the side.
“So, can we talk about last night?” I asked.
“Sure. I guess I owe you an explanation for why the bathroom smells like—“
“No, not about that”, I interrupted him. “I was there when you lost all of that fancy meal from last night. I could even take a guess on what you ate. Don't really want to go over it, though.”
The tapping stopped. “You were there last night?” Suddenly, his expression became guarded. And any suspicion that he was hiding something was confirmed.
“Yeah. I don't expect you to remember, though. You were pretty fucked up.”
He took a drink from his coffee. “Sorry about that”, he said. “I was just...” He trailed off.
I went over to the table and took a seat across from him. “What happened last night?” I just needed to know. “Tell me everything you remember.”
He looked up at me, took another small sip of his coffee, and started talking.
“I was at my dad's again yesterday. Renée made this fancy dinner, kind of a do-over, since I'd missed the one on Christmas Eve.”
“Wait”, I interrupted him, “what happened Christmas Eve?”
Darcy just closed his eyes, running his hand over his face. “Long story. Can we just stick to the events of last night for now?”
I nodded. “Sorry, continue.”
“So, I went to that dinner, and everything was fine. We ate the food and it was delicious, and then, at the end of it, my father asked me to come into his office.”
“Uh oh”, I said. This already didn't sound good.
“He simply wanted to go over some plans for a new project we'd been assigned, but being the idiot that I am, I chose that exact moment to tell him about my plans of studying architecture.”
“You want to study architecture?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah. Hey, don't don't look at me like that.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “Next you're going to laugh at me just like my father did.”
“I'm not laughing at you”, I said. “I was just surprised. You never said anything about wanting to study architecture.”
“Whatever.” He still sounded grumpy.
“Listen”, I said. “You do realise that you're kind of leaving your father hanging here, right? I mean, you're his only son—his only biological son”, I added, and cringed a little when Darcy's ice-cold eyes found mine. “He's counting on you to take over his business.”
“You know what? Fuck you.” Darcy stood up from his chair so abruptly that he almost knocked it back. “I don't need advice from you. Especially not when you're just going to take the piss at me.”
I stood up, too, surprised by his sudden outburst. “I wasn't taking the piss, alright. I was just telling you my opinion.”
“Well I don't want your fucking opinion”, Darcy spat at me.
What the hell was wrong with him? He got up and walked out the door.
“Fine, suit yourself”, I called after him. “You still want your toast?”
He didn't respond.
“I'll eat it myself then”, I mumbled and started on my lunch.