by Talya Andor
"Lucas," Michelle said, swiveling her chair, then looked up and scrubbed her face with both hands. "Thank goodness."
"Did you hear about what happened?" Lucas asked. He glanced around. "Well, you must have, since Soren's not here. Or Aaron."
Danice flashed him a smile and folded her arms. "I'm off in an hour, and we have a rather large hole in the schedule to fill."
"Of course I heard." Michelle gave them both a tired smile. "I fired Aaron Fosmark last night. Theft and he sealed it with the assault on his way out."
Lucas nodded. "Did you report it to the police?"
"I did. They're considering assault charges." Michelle gave him an even look. "He was scheduled for the mid shift today, and I'd do it myself, but…here you are, Lucas."
"Here I am," he said, with the ghost of a rakish smile. "So you trust me again? I'm still a shift supervisor?"
Michelle favored him with a pointed look and a short burst of laughter. "Honestly, I can't spare you. But set your mind at ease, I had to do what I did, and my trust of you wasn't in question. My little investigation shook free some other facts and opinions, and Danice, Becky, and Sloane helped me rake them in."
"Sloane?"
"Yes, Sloane," Michelle replied, leaning back in her chair. She reached beside her desk for the aprons that hung on the peg beside it, removed one, and tossed it to Lucas. There was a twinkle in her eyes as she continued. "I fancy myself a good judge of character, and Sloane's a trustworthy one. In fact, I trusted most of the staff that was hired on before I came to manage the store, and all of the supervisors except—"
"Enough said," Lucas finished for her.
"How's Soren?" Michelle asked. "His mother called in, didn't say much, only that he'd been to the hospital last night and she thought he ought to sleep in this morning."
Lucas nodded slowly. "Uh, he's doing all right." The words sounded strange to his own ears. He couldn't admit that he hadn't talked to Soren since he'd been discharged. He hadn't called the night before because he'd wanted to give him time to recuperate, but Claire's angry words still rang in his ears. He hadn't called that morning because he didn't want to wake Soren up if he was sleeping.
Michelle loosed a gusty sigh. "I've been here too long." She slapped her thighs. "I'm going to get going, Lucas, and I'll see you later. Have a good afternoon."
Danice squeezed his shoulder. "There's an unused till in the bottom drawer, and five counted ones in the safe. Want me to count out?"
"Sounds good."
As Lucas waited for the safe to open, Danice briefed him on the day's events. Pam was there to work the morning shift, subbing for Soren. Teri was there until the closers came in, but could leave if it was slow. She left him and made another trash run as apology for leaving early, and Lucas checked the schedule. Tomorrow Soren was scheduled to work, but Lucas wasn't. He remembered what Michelle had said about Soren's mother calling him in sick, and he wondered if she'd do the same tomorrow.
Absently fretting over that, Lucas took his till onto the floor and noted that Pam was on the espresso bar. If Soren had been there as scheduled, he was undisputed champion of the bar.
"Teri, Danice said you were on the bottom?" Lucas asked, nodding to the register. There was a lull in people clamoring at the counter, although the buzz of chatter from the front signified they were still packed.
She nodded.
"All right," he said, keying his code into the register. "I'll take top, but you'll stay cashier for the evening until you leave. It's Tuesday, so I expect we'll have a quiet afternoon."
Unfortunately, for Lucas it meant more time to think about all the ways his life had fallen apart so fast.
*~*~*
Soren woke up with a start as a bar of sunlight fell warmly across his face. He began to reach for his phone and winced.
"Owww…" He started to reach for his head and stopped. Besides just a headache, there were different textures of pain: throbbing, aching, itching, and something he couldn't even put a sensation to. He squinted up at his ceiling and tried to make sense of everything. He was still in bed. He was supposed to be at work.
He went limp against his pillow as memories came back to him. Aaron yelling, Soren deciding to boldly go forth and clock in anyhow, the shattering of the mug. He remembered paper towels, one after another, dropped into the bin soaked bright red.
Soren reached off to the side, groping for his phone without turning to look for it. After a few fumbles he got it off his nightstand and lifted it up. He pulled a mournful face at the lack of texts from Lucas.
"What's the deal with that?" He wasn't sure whether to be worried or indignant. He cast back to the day before and recalled the guilty look on his mother's face. She'd said something to Lucas and it was all too likely it had been way worse than what she'd admitted to.
He started to type out a laborious text to his sister, made difficult by his prone position, when the door cracked open. A gentle rap sounded against the frame.
"Soren? You up?" Claire called softly.
Soren sighed and stowed his phone under his pillow. "You called me out sick, didn't you?" He felt like he should be angry about it, because he hadn't gotten a say in whether to go to work that morning or not, but he was mostly relieved. His head was all kinds of messed up and he felt like shit.
"Of course I did." The door swung open and Claire walked in carrying a mug and a bowl cradled in the crook of her arm. "Breakfast, and the aftercare instructions said caffeine was okay so I figured you'd want your morning coffee."
Soren sighed again but it was grateful. He began inching up on his elbows, trying to ease into an upright sitting position.
"Here, let me help you." Claire moved quickly to the bedside table, setting down the coffee mug and the bowl which turned out to be oatmeal topped with fresh fruit.
"Thanks." Soren relaxed and cooperated as his mom got an arm around his shoulders and finessed him into a seated position. She even fluffed his pillows behind him. Soren wanted to laugh but didn't dare crack a smile.
"Make sure to eat all of that, you can't take the painkillers on an empty stomach," Claire instructed.
"All right." Soren folded his hands on top of his blanket. He was being reduced to childhood. "I'm going to need them if I'm going to make it to classes later." It was already close to eleven. He'd slept the morning away, but he supposed it had been unavoidable. Even though he'd gone to bed early the night before, it was in service of recuperation.
"What? You're not going to class!"
"Mom! I got stitches, it's not like I got beat up."
"Yes, you got stitches, and you can stand to take a day or two off while you're on the mend."
Soren frowned up at her. "I'm capable of making decisions about my own self-care, you know."
Claire sighed and sat on the edge of his bed. "Of course you are. But you're my son and you got hurt. I'm allowed to fuss over you a bit."
"I suppose." Soren patted her hand. He looked at her worried profile. He was the first one to ever visit the hospital for anything besides routine check-ups and vaccines and the flu. None of them had ever so much as broken a bone before. "Yeah, I mean, I understand, mom. But I'm not going to stay holed up in my room until the stitches are healed."
Claire's hand fluttered out from underneath his. "Well, no, I suppose not."
"I have work, and school, and Lucas."
She looked at him sharply. "Soren. I really think, given what's happened, it would be better if you stayed focused on school right now. Just school."
That was an argument he didn't have the energy to crack open, even though it was obvious that would have to happen soon. "Mom."
"Just stay home for today, all right? You can't tell me you're feeling up to going to campus. Your poor head." Her hand lifted but she pulled it back before it got anywhere near Soren's face.
He'd looked at it in the mirror the night before and he'd barely been able to stomach the sight. The black stitches stark against shaved patches of scalp had made him
want to throw up. A good hairdresser might be able to help him style around it, but he wasn't even sure he could tolerate washing his hair right then.
"All right." Accepting his limitations was an important part of the recovery process, he supposed.
Claire smiled and reached out for his good side, smoothing his hair and patting his cheek.
Less condescension, please, Soren wanted to say, but held his tongue.
"Give breakfast a try, okay? I'll be back in a little bit with the painkillers. Let me know if you need anything." Claire stood. When she was almost to the door, she stopped and turned to give him a stern look. "And don't try to sit up at your computer, all right? Knock that off for the day and rest up. Books, magazines, let me know if you want to come downstairs and watch a movie, but take a break from your social media and computer screen."
Soren gave her a look right back, but she raised her eyebrows at him. It occurred to him she would totally see it within her maternal rights to turn off the modem or confiscate his phone. "Yeah, fine. Can you grab me a book on your way out?"
Claire smiled. "Of course, Sorri."
He settled back against his pillow after she was gone and reached for the phone he'd stashed under it. The least he could do was get a quick message out to Lucas before he went into a media blackout for the day.
*~*~*
It had been hours since his shift and Lucas was flopped on the couch zoning out, watching the clock with half an eye and frequently checking his phone for new texts. Like rubbing salt in the wound, he played his voicemail again.
It's me, Soren. I guess you're probably at work right now…I'm out of the hospital. Anyhow…call me, okay?
Silence.
He tried Soren's phone and it went straight to voicemail again. Hearing Soren's message, his voice on that thin thread, brought him back to the hospital, the look in his blue eyes cutting deeper than a knife. There was someone he hadn't been able to protect. He called up Soren's house number next.
This sort of thing didn't happen every day, but Lucas didn't feel like that was any excuse.
Lucas's fingers stole into his pocket as he listened to the phone line ringing for connection.
"Hello?" Claire's voice was on the line.
Damn it. "Hi, Mrs. Wilkenson."
"Why are you calling?"
"I'm calling to talk to Soren. May I, please?"
The courtesy didn't seem to have thawed her any as she said, "I thought I made it clear I don't want you seeing Soren again."
"Mrs. Wilkenson, with all due respect, that isn't your choice to make. He's my boyfriend. I want to talk to him." Lucas was holding onto his temper by a thin margin.
"Not if I have any say in it, and I do!"
"Claire. Can I ask a question? Just one question. How is he doing. Is he okay?"
His only reply was a ringing slam and a dial tone. Lucas stared at the useless phone in his hand and contemplated curses there was no real point in verbalizing.
*~*~*
"What did it feel like?" Cassie sat at the foot of the bed, lovely face schooled into solemn lines. She picked at the blue chenille blanket that lay spread over Soren's legs and tilted her head. "You look pretty terrible."
"Like nothing I ever want to experience again," Soren said. He winced in remembrance. "You know, they give you a local anesthetic, but you can still feel the tug as the stitches go through your skin? And thanks for the pep talk, Cass. Remind me why you're here?"
"I was going to bring you a tray," she said, and patted his foot.
Soren gave her a look of disbelief. "So where is it?"
A thump hit the door, then it creaked open and Morgan edged in, carrying a tray laden with food and drink. "I dunno if this is early dinner or late lunch, but it's all yours," she said cheerfully, setting it before him and helping herself to the chair beside the bed. "Mom seemed to think you should eat up here."
"Yeah, I think I'm under house arrest." He looked at the sandwich with moody distaste. He wasn't hungry and didn't know if it was because of the painkillers, the stress and unease settling in his stomach, or what.
Cassie looked up. "You serious? She doesn't really think it's your fault, does she?"
"No way, you think Mom would—" Morgan shook her head. "I mean, not your fault exactly, but she's totally in overprotective mode."
Soren drained half the glass of water on the tray, and picked at the edge of the sandwich crust. "Yeah, somehow me getting hurt is tied up together with me being with Lucas, in her head."
"That's…" Cassie started, stopped, and shook her head. "She thinks you got hurt because of Lucas?"
"Yeah, I don't get it either."
Cassie patted his foot again as if she were trying to get his attention. "You okay?" she asked, gentle as everyone had handled him since the night before. Kid gloves and fine-spun glass, walking the tightrope of compassion.
There must have been bitterness in his face, his voice, and of course he couldn't expect to be over it so soon. It would be easier if there were some kind of focus outside himself, these four walls, the mother standing guard downstairs and instituting a media blackout.
"I've been better." Soren picked at his sandwich again. It was a peace offering, dinner upstairs instead of sitting down with the rest of the family. He also had the sneaking suspicion it was precisely because Claire wanted to keep him in his room and out of the way in case Lucas came to see how he was.
"What about Lucas?" Morgan asked.
"Has he called?" Soren turned desperate eyes on his sisters. Both shook their heads.
"I remember how Mom talked to him in the kitchen last week." Cassie grimaced. "It was easy to tell she didn't like him, even though he seemed like a nice enough guy."
Soren's lips twitched, but he controlled the urge to smile. He was in pretty pathetic shape, he considered, and thought with a twinge of self-pity that perhaps he couldn't blame Lucas for not wanting to see him right now. "Guess he's busy."
"Idiot, what's more important than seeing you?" Morgan asked. She stole a handful of chips.
"I dunno…work. Sloane emailed me before her class and let me know Aaron did get fired, there's a couple of holes in the schedule, and no one is supposed to work overtime."
"Yeah, but you got your head busted up and had stitches!"
"And he took me to the hospital to get them and apparently my mom was horrible to him, so that's probably why he doesn't want to see me." Soren picked up his water again, weighed the glass in his hand and finished it off.
Cassie took his glass and stood. "I'm gonna help Mom with dinner, maybe eavesdrop if the opportunity presents." She wiggled her fingers at him and departed. "You must be feeling better if you can hold yourself a pity-party."
Soren stared after her for a moment before turning to Morgan. She shrugged.
"It's not like you," she said. "Are you mad at Lucas for not calling? That's a crock. You have a phone, but I can grab the cordless if you think calling him from your phone is a jinx. Call him yourself."
"I did. He hasn't called back."
"All right. Then maybe, like you said, he's busy." She threw up her hands. "Call him again. Call him at work."
"Like I said, maybe he doesn't want to see me. Not after last night."
Morgan sat quietly for a moment, looking at him. At last she got up, took another chip from his plate and flipped it at him, and left the room without saying a word.
That was fine, Soren decided. He deserved it. He was behaving way more like the old Soren than the self he'd come to like a great deal more.
Soren slowly set the tray on the chair Cassie had vacated, an old armchair he'd dragged with him from the house in Eugene. He was tired and he wanted to sleep. He couldn't. He rocked on the edge of the bed and hugged himself tight.
Soren moved to scrub his face with both hands. He shook his head, picked up his sandwich and took a halfhearted bite. Salami, prosciutto, lettuce and endive. Claire was always trying to fatten him up, calling him rake-thin. The
sandwich was dry, dust in his mouth, and he set it down.
Using the house phone might be a good idea right now. However, going out would break his self-imposed solitude, and he acknowledged with that thought that he'd reached a sulking state of mind.
Maybe after everyone had gone to sleep, he could take the car out.
The thought made him snort. All naps aside, he was exhausted. Once his head connected with his pillow, he would sleep for as many hours as his eyelids would stay shut.
He got up to check his computer. His list of friends was empty, idle, away. There was a grayed-out link where TruBishounen would normally reside. It had been grayed out all day.
Soren set his own message to Away status, grabbed his sandwich, a book, and set to blocking out the rest of the world with the words someone else had woven.
Nineteen
The day was clear blue sky as far as the horizon stretched, in pure defiance of Oregon's typical November. It was a day unsuited to bad moods, but Soren held onto his. What little sleep he'd gotten had been restless, his parents had gotten into another argument that morning and Alan had been forced to leave before the conclusion, and now Soren was left at home with his mother, who was arguing for him to stay home another day.
Soren pushed his chair back from the table in the kitchen nook and gazed at his mother with a frown. She had finished putting away breakfast dishes and kept moving back and forth, bristling with nervous energy. They were the only two people left in the house on that Thursday morning, and Soren was already missing his sisters. "You didn't have to stay home again." He was fairly certain his mother hadn't gotten any more sleep than he had.
"Oh, but you're still not well yet." Claire paused halfway through her circuit of the kitchen and regarded him with an abstract expression, eye roving over him but not meeting his gaze.
"I'm fine," Soren said quietly, without emphasis. "I don't have a cold, or the flu, or broken bones. I got stitches. Really, all things considered I'm doing remarkably well." An urge to laugh accompanied that thought. All her fretting care was just that—and it was also bustle to keep him from trying to see Lucas. She was using this to try and drive a wedge between him.