by Layla Dorine
Nicky gripped the edge of the bed, eyes wide. “What?”
“He hit her. Backhanded her across the face. Dude, I think I froze. My beer hit the ground and I’m pretty sure it shattered, but I didn’t even look. I just… I grabbed him, spun him around, and clocked him one. The next thing I know we’re rolling around on the lawn.”
“Damn. So what happened? I mean afterward. Did she leave? What the hell did he hit her for?”
“Fucked if I know. And no, she didn’t leave. She apologized to him for not managing the money he’d given her better, and went back in. Then he gets in my face about keeping my nose out of other people’s business. What the hell. How is it not my business? He hit her right in front of me. We weren’t raised that way, Nicky. Fuck. That shit ain’t right, man.”
“No, it’s not; but what are you supposed to do if she didn’t even walk away after he did it?”
River sighed and dug in the cooler for the other soda. “That’s the thing; I don’t know. I mean, I can’t call the cops on him, can I? He’s my brother. And what good would that do if she won’t press charges or even admit to it when they got there? I-I guess I could try and talk to her when he ain’t home or something, but, hell, I don’t know.”
Nicky listened, feeling a little uncomfortable.
“My old man never hit my mom, never. Hell, he never even raised his voice to her.”
“Maybe you should tell your dad,” Nicky suggested. “I mean, wouldn’t he be better at dealing with Dennis than you, since you’re younger?”
River leaned back and closed his eyes, fingers tapping lightly against the can. “Yeah, maybe. I mean, it can’t hurt, and if anything, maybe he’d have a better idea of what to do about it than I do. I-I just, I still can’t believe he did it, or that she didn’t leave.”
“Sometimes it’s hard to leave,” Nicky said softly. “Sometimes it’s impossible to see that you don’t deserve what’s happening to you.”
River’s eyes narrowed as he studied his friend. “Tell me Terry never laid a hand on you like that.”
“He never hit me,” Nicky said. “But there’s other ways to hurt someone.”
“And that’s what I don’t get!” River fumed. “How the hell can you stay with someone who’s causing you pain?”
“’Cause I’m stupid, and I-I guess I just felt so lucky that he was with me.”
“Lucky! Why would you feel lucky?”
“I don’t even know anymore. I guess I figured I would never have anyone better.”
“That’s bullshit! You, you’re amazing, and Terry is a certified ass.”
“A year ago, if you had said that to me, I’d have been pissed at you for weeks for putting him down. I didn’t want to see him for what he was.”
River sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, well, I hope she starts to see my brother for who he is before he really hurts her.”
“Just…call your dad, let him try and help.”
“Yeah….” River fumbled in his pocket, retrieved his phone, and took a long drink while dialing the numbers. He sat back in the chair to speak to his dad, and Nicky returned his attention to the television, tuning out the conversation.
“He said he’d handle it,” River said at last. “And judging from how pissed he sounded, I wouldn’t want to be Dennis right now.”
“If you were Dennis, that never would have happened in the first place,” Nicky pointed out.
“True.”
“Hey. If you go in the medicine cabinet and bring back the peroxide, I can help you with your hands.”
“How? You’ve only got one good one yourself.”
“I’ll still do a better job than you will. Remember the torque wrench incident?”
“Fine, you win, happy now?”
“It’s a start.” Nicky grinned.
River brought the cotton balls and the peroxide. Nicky doctored his cuts, then insisted he sit on the bed with him and watch some court TV to unwind.
“Thanks,” River said.
“Anytime. At least I could finally help someone else for a change.”
“Hey,” River said, reaching to place a gentle hand on Nicky’s shoulder. “You’ve helped me plenty, even before today, so don’t; okay? Just don’t. Everything’s gonna be back to normal soon; you’ll see.”
“Yeah,” Nicky said, though he didn’t believe it. He hit the mute button a second time and sound filled the room again.
***
Vic found them still sitting there, laughing at the defendant’s claim that the money she’d been given was a gift, despite the fact that the plaintiff had promissory notes that she’d signed, stating she’d agreed to pay back every dime. After ordering Chinese and changing into cooler clothes, Vic joined them in marveling over the stupidity of people who took their disputes to cable for TV judges to solve.
For the most part, Nicky picked as his food, scowling down at it like it had personally offended him.
“What’s wrong,” Vic asked. “You love honey walnut shrimp.”
“Yeah, well, I’m getting fat just sitting on my ass doing nothing all day.”
River almost choked on the bite of food he’d been swallowing, and Vic had to smack him on the back until he was breathing all right again.
“Dude, if anything you’ve lost weight,” River said.
“Seriously,” Vic added. “Your clothes are starting to hang off you; you need to eat more.”
“Yeah, so I can be a lardass along with being a hideously scared and pathetic gimp,” Nicky huffed, and refused to eat more than another bite or two.
He fell asleep not long after, and River took off, leaving Vic to clean up the living room and turn the volume low. It was half past eleven, and after toying with the idea a little, he fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed Gray’s number, hoping he wasn’t overstepping.
“Hey, Gray, I didn’t mean to call so late, but I figured you’d still be up,” Vic said into the receiver.
“Yeah, I just got off work about twenty minutes ago. Barely had time to get out of the shower before I heard this thing ringing.”
“Sorry about that. I just wanted to talk to you about Nicky and some things I’ve noticed the past few days. Wasn’t sure if you’d noticed them too, and I was kinda getting worried.”
“Things like what?”
“Like not finishing meals and leaving a lot more food than normal on his plate. Making derogatory comments about the way he looks, his future, and his life. Sleeping more, only interacting when people push him to, getting frustrated even quicker than normal, or flat out refusing to bother with things.”
“Like his hair? Yeah, I tried again to brush it for him, but he got mad at me and told me to leave it alone.”
“Yeah, I tried too.”
“At this rate he may have to cut it if he won’t let anyone do anything to help him with it.”
“Like he would even let one of us cut it,” Vic grumbled.
“Yeah, I’m pretty certain it’s depression. I even suggested that he consider talking to someone. I won’t tell you the look I got when those words left my mouth. Suffice it to say he’d have thrown something heavy at my head if he could have managed to lift anything.”
“Yeah, well, there’s a hole in the wall from the soda can he threw at me—a full one might I add—so I understand the feeling. I’ve been trying to convince him to talk to someone too, but he’s so damned stubborn and so dammed pissed off right now that he’s not listening to a damn thing I say.”
“Join the club,” Gray told him. “But I’ll be down again in the morning. I’ll make breakfast, so if you want to sleep in for once, go for it.”
“Thanks, Gray. See ya then.”
He hung up, replaced the phone in his pocket, and turned off the kitchen light.
“You don’t have to talk about me behind my back.”
Vic flinched and flipped on the overhead lights to see Nicky sitting up in bed.
“I didn’t realize you
were awake,” Vic admitted sheepishly.
“It’s a good thing I was. At least I got to hear my best friend and my boyfriend secretly plotting. Since when did you two get so friendly, anyway?”
Vic ran his fingers along the door frame, tapping lightly. “Since he helped me set up the living room for you. Well, even before that, really. With him living so far away and only able to come down in the mornings, I would call and give him progress reports on how you were when I saw you at night. He was concerned for you; we both were. Still are, really. We know it—”
“You don’t know shit, either of you, and I’m really getting sick and damn tired of people telling me what they know. You don’t know anything. You’ve never experienced anything like this. You’ve never lost everything. Don’t you get it, Vic? I can’t do anything that I love, and I might never be able to do any of it ever again. Ever, as in for the rest of my life, the human equivalent of infinity. So if I wanna sit here and be pissed off about it, then fuck you both for not letting me.”
It took every shred of effort and self-control, as well as some teeth grinding, for Vic to bite back a scathing retort. Instead, he simply flicked the light off again.
“If that’s what you want, then I’ll leave you to it.”
***
Nicky lay in the dark until the sun’s rays slid between the cracks in the blinds and slowly crept across the floor toward him. Even then he couldn’t stop watching, especially when they stopped, too far away to touch him, and he looked down at skin that used to be golden and saw only pale, sallow flesh. So many things twisted through his mind: anger, rage, defeat. He knew that nothing was ever gonna get better. He was surrounded by bitter memories of a past that had brought him joy, only now that joy was taunting him.
Brushing at a tear that had dared to fall, he checked the time, then reached into the drawer beside the bed to retrieve the cell phone he kept charged there.
***
The cell phone vibrated in Terry’s pocket as he worked on the sedan’s carburetor. Leaning back, he wiped the sweat from his brow and checked the display, eyes widening in surprise when he saw who was calling. Heart hammering in his chest, he hit the answer button and put the phone to his ear.
“Hello.”
“Hey, Ter.”
“Nicky,” Terry breathed, leaning against the car.
Across the bay, Terry saw River’s head jerk up, and his eyes locked with Terry’s. Terry looked away.
“Wh-what’s going on?” Terry stammered quietly.
“Can you come over after work?”
“Yeah, of course. I’ll be there as soon as I get off.”
“Thanks,” Nicky said, and abruptly hung up.
Terry stood blinking at his phone for several moments before going back to work, but he could feel River’s eyes on him and the last thing he needed was another confrontation.
***
Terry was nervously watching the clock a half hour before closing when Dean stuck his head in and looked around.
“Hey,” he yelled. “Terry, I need you and Jason to stay an extra hour.”
“I, umm, can’t,” Terry called back.
“Thought you said you needed extra hours.”
“I do… I just… Something came up,” Terry explained.
“Yeah, well, something came up here and I need you, so push your something back an hour.”
“Fine,” Terry grumbled.
After the others had left, Jason nudged Terry’s shoulder. “So, what were your big plans tonight? You and Dirk hitting another club or something?”
Terry groaned. “No. Dammit, I’m sick of clubs.”
“Sick of clubs or sick of Dirk?”
Terry just grumbled and worked at getting the stuck brake pad loose.
“Or should I take that to mean both?” Jason pressed.
Terry banged his knuckles on the edge of the brake pad and cursed. “I’m sick of the fuckin’ clubs! I’m sick of Dirk whining about wanting to be taken out! I’m sick of the way he sounds and the way he acts, and the adoring way he looks at me that makes me want to smack him!”
Jason chuckled. “No offense, but he’s a douche. Never did see what you saw in him. Looked like you were just with him to make Nicky jealous.”
Terry dropped the wrench and ran a hand through his hair, looking anywhere but at Jason.
“Damn, you really are an asshole, aren’t you?”
“I—”
“Save it! Christ, I can’t believe I backed you. You made it seem like Nicky used you and fucked you over, and that couldn’t be further from the truth.”
“I know; okay? I was a bastard. I fucked up. So can you help me fix this damn brake so I can go talk to him? It was Nicky I had plans with after work, not Dirk.”
Jason’s eyes got huge.
“What?”
“He forgave you?” Jason asked incredulously. “I wouldn’t have.”
“Thanks,” Terry muttered sarcastically. “Honestly, I don’t know. He just said come over. For all I know he wants me to come over so he can cuss me out and throw shit at me.”
Jason laughed at that. “You’d deserve it too. If you come in with a black eye tomorrow, I’m gonna laugh my ass off.”
“Yeah, ’cause you’re a dick that way,” Terry grumbled. “You gonna help with this or you gonna keep talking?”
“Got my side done,” Jason pointed out. “So I’m outta here. You have fun with that.”
Terry fumed as he watched Jason go, then got back to work on the brake pad. It took another fifteen minutes for him to get the stripped and rusted thing off, then he still had to install new pads and brakes on before he was done. He was careful to put all the tools away, wiping the grease off each one first.
Terry hated to admit that he was nervous about seeing Nicky. He fumbled with his keys as he got in his truck and flipped stations, unable to settle on any one as he drove. By the time he pulled up to his old house, he’d wrecked his nerves thinking about all the possible scenarios. Vic’s car in the driveway was disconcerting. The hostility between them only grew each time they saw one another. He was shocked they hadn’t ended up in a brawl yet. Of course they’d always been in the hospital until now. Terry had no way of knowing what Vic would do when he opened the door and saw him on the other side.
Shoving his fingers though his hair as he walked up the sidewalk, Terry reminded himself that Nicky had called him. His knock rang hollow in his ears and he fidgeted; then the door was yanked open and Vic stood there glaring at him.
“Nicky asked me to come,” Terry said immediately, hoping to ward off a confrontation.
“Yeah, he told me,” Vic snapped. He pulled the door open wider, turned, and stalked away. Terry followed, closing the door behind him. For a moment he could only look around in confusion. Their old furniture was down in the living room, Nicky propped up in what used to be their bed. The cuts on his face still stood out in angry red lines, but at least the railroad track of stitches was gone. Nicky didn’t smile. He just stared as Terry crossed the room.
“Was starting to think you weren’t coming,” Nicky said.
“Dean had me stay late,” Terry explained. “I probably should have called and said something.”
Nicky shrugged as Vic stalked through the room with a box, which he set by the door before heading back the way he’d come.
“So what’s going on?” Terry asked as he picked at his jeans.
“I want you to get that shit out of here,” Nicky told him, his voice cold and hollow. He gestured toward the box as Vic returned with a second.
Terry frowned, unable to think of anything he’d left behind. “What shit?”
“The bike parts and those dirt bike frames in the garage; the ones I bought at that swap meet last fall. The stuff in the boxes is from all the races: scrapbooks, T-shirts, flags, numbers, pictures. All the shit we collected racing. I don’t want any of it anymore.”
Terry’s face paled, thinking back to the years of collecting. Vi
c passed through the room again, groaning under the weight of another box. Hastily, Terry looked at the wall to see that every framed dirt bike magazine cover had been taken down, including the signed ones.
“You don’t mean that,” Terry said.
“Either you take the shit or I’m gonna get River to haul it outta here and burn it. Your choice.”
Terry’s jaw dropped and for a moment all he could do was stare at Nicky.
“Stop staring at me, take it, and get out,” Nicky demanded.
“Nicky, I—” Terry began, only to jump when Vic growled at him.
“I already tried talking him out of it, so do us both a favor and take these out to your truck. There’s still more. Plus the shit in the garage.”
Terry glanced between them, but Nicky was no longer looking in his direction. He was staring at the TV, sheets bunched in one fist, jaw set in a ridged line. Stubborn, defiant, there would be no reasoning with Nicky, and Terry knew better than to try. He’d seen Nicky take that stance with others over the years, though never once with him. Still, taking these things felt more final than the day he’d shown up with Dirk to move his stuff out of the house.
“Nicky, if you change your mind, I’ll bring them back,” Terry offered.
“Not gonna change my mind,” Nicky insisted, still refusing to look at him.
“You, umm, look better,” Terry managed.
Nicky jerked his head around to glare at him. “You call this better?” Nicky yelled, the fury in his voice forcing Terry to snap his mouth shut. “I can barely fuckin’ see outta one eye. My leg hurts all the time. I wish like hell they’d have just cut off my arm, because it fucking hurts every moment of every day. Everything hurts and I fuckin’ hate you for it, so just take the boxes and get out!”