by JD Chambers
I shake my head to try to convey he has nothing to be sorry for, but I have to close my eyes and focus on my breathing to keep the panic attack at bay. Ted isn’t going to hurt me, but my racing heart isn’t listening.
Ted waits patiently for me to return to normal, not that I think that will ever happen.
“Sorry about that,” I say when I finally have my breathing under control. I’m still shaking slightly from the rush of adrenaline.
“It’s understandable,” Ted says, folding his hands on the table in front of him. “You’ve been through something massive, and that doesn’t go away just because your body has healed.”
Yes, that’s exactly it, and I’m so grateful that he gets it, because at times, I’m not sure I do.
“There’s a lot to tell you, but the main thing is, can I stay with you for a few days? Oh, and would you be able to pay for this? I’ll pay you back. It’s just that I don’t have a wallet anymore. Fuck, I don’t have anything anymore. I don’t know why I ordered it. I didn’t want to sit here and use their table and not order anything. I wasn’t thinking.”
“It’s okay, Puppy. Deep breaths.”
I close my eyes and inhale through my nose, then exhale slowly through my mouth. Again and again, until the words and the voice sink in, and then my eyes fly open.
“Arthur!”
I hadn’t called him or texted him. I wasn’t sure if I had the right anymore. Granted it wasn’t my fault that I had been out of communication, but after no word from me for three months, how could I expect him to wait around?
When he leans a knee onto the bench near my thigh, presumably to give me a hug, I shrink back into the corner. The sudden rush of adrenaline makes my world narrow to the pounding of my heart and the uncontrollable jitters holding my limbs hostage. I can tell there is talking around me, but it sounds like it’s happening far away, and I’m only hearing it through a long tunnel.
A hand twines fingers with mine and I feel a body near me, but not touching except for our hands. Arthur. My vision and hearing slowly return to normal, but I’m still shaking, and realize that I’m cowering in the corner.
“Deep breaths, Puppy. I know it doesn’t feel like it, but you’re safe. You are surrounded by people who love you, and we will help you get through this.”
The tears that pricked behind my eyes fall at the loving sound of his voice.
“I’m so sorry, Arthur.”
My eyes focus on him, but it’s movement behind him that catches my attention.
“We can wait at another table, if you’d prefer, or go ahead and go back to Westley’s apartment if you want to call another Uber.” It’s an unfamiliar voice, and Arthur turns to reveal three people standing behind him.
“Yeah, thanks Mom. I’m sure we can work something out.”
“Mom?” I ask.
“Hello, David. I’m Lyn, Arthur’s mother.” The tiny woman commands attention, just like her son.
“Hi?”
I look at Arthur, who looks sheepish. “They’re here for Westley’s family weekend at school. I was out to dinner with them when I found out that Ted was coming to get you. I didn’t have my car, so … here we all are.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I say to Lyn. Beside her, Arthur’s dad’s face is etched with concern, and the kid next to him shoots me a dorky yet sympathetic wave. That must be his younger brother Westley. “Sorry I’m a bit of a mess at the moment.”
“You have nothing to apologize for. We’re the ones intruding. But I wanted to tell you how glad I am to see you up and about. We’ve all been worried about you, but Arthur most of all.” Her voice brooks no argument, but her eyes convey warmth and understanding. “Call us later. When you can,” she tells Arthur.
The Yuens leave, and Ted shifts in his seat.
“Do you want me to wait in the car too? Give you guys some privacy?” he asks, but I shake my head.
“No, I’d like to talk to you both, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course not.”
I can’t bring myself to look Arthur in the face, I’m so embarrassed over my freak-out from earlier. “Would you mind?” I motion with my head over to the other side of the table, and Arthur catches on.
“No, of course,” he says, pretending to be fine with switching sides and sitting next to Ted. When he settles down, he motions to the picked-apart muffin in front of me. “Is this all you’ve eaten?”
“I left while my mom was making dinner. I had to get out of there,” I say. Every time I think about it, my veins feel like they’re filled with ice.
Arthur motions for a waitress and tells me to order whatever I want.
“It’s more like whatever I can actually stomach.”
They have twenty-four-hour breakfast, so I order plain toast and scrambled eggs. I can eat regular food now, but my guts still protest at things that are too spicy or too fatty or too fiber-y. It’s like my intestines have completely reset, and only the blandest of foods will do.
Ted says he hasn’t eaten either, so he also orders himself some food, and when the waitress leaves, they turn their attention back to me.
“Start at the very beginning,” Arthur says. “No one would tell us anything, so we only know the very bare minimum of what happened.”
I start to tell them about the mugging, but I break down into tears again. Thank god the café is dead and only the waitress and an elderly couple near the restrooms are here to witness my humiliation.
“Please let me hold you,” Arthur whispers, but doesn’t make a move toward me.
I think maybe it will be easier if I approach him and not the other way around, so I stand up from the bench and make Arthur move yet again. This time, I slide in toward him, and tuck into his side. Me being the instigator helps keep the panic at bay, but I still can’t stop crying. He lets me cling to him, and my tears soak into his shirt. I sob until I have no more tears. Between residual tearful gasps, I say, “I’m so sorry.”
Arthur’s hands gently rest on my shoulders. He doesn’t pull me closer or crowd me other than to hold me in place with his big, warm hands. “It’s like my mom said, Dave, you have nothing to be sorry about.”
“It’s because of the tag. I was so stupid.”
“What was?”
Our food arrives and I straighten up, first trying to rearrange Arthur’s shirt where the damp sticks to his skin in weird ways before giving up because it’s too wet.
“I was tipsy, after hanging out with everyone. The guy who mugged me, first he slammed my head into the car, almost knocked me out. I wasn’t going to fight him. He asked for my wallet and I gave it to him. Only I remembered that my tag was in my wallet, for safekeeping since it had broken. I only wanted the tag back. But everything was so confusing. I’m such an idiot. It was my fault I got shot.”
Arthur places a soft kiss on the top of my forehead. “I’m so sorry you’ve had to deal with all that guilt on your own.”
I want to argue that it isn’t guilt, but the more I think about it, it feels like the right word. I take a few bites of my dinner and the others stay quiet. Ted also eats, but there’s a barrier between them and me, like I’m suddenly wrapped in bubble wrap and they have to be extra careful with me. I don’t want to be fragile, but just the thought that I might be almost has me in tears again, so I know it’s right. I just hate that it’s right.
I tell them next about the surgeries and recoveries and all the countless weeks of crap I’ve been through. Rehashing it all isn’t the most pleasant thing I’ve ever done, but it’s necessary. Finally, I get to the present, and my day of unexpected discoveries. No car. No apartment. Lying about no phone. And the attempt at leaving me with no job.
Their mouths hang open, as I’m sure mine would in their place.
“Shit, I suddenly feel the urge to go back to Westley’s and give my parents a giant hug,” Arthur says. His eyes still haven’t returned to normal size.
“I know, right? Like, if you ever thought your family w
as controlling, have I got a story for you. And hey. Your family’s here. That’s a new thing, right?”
Arthur’s smile is hesitant, like he feels guilty for something going right for him when my whole world has gone to shit. “Yeah. I’ll tell you about it later, but yeah. It’s pretty cool.”
“You need a place to stay?” Ted asks me.
“You can stay with me,” Arthur says, and I glance at Ted.
“Actually, I –”
“Right, no, I gotcha,” Arthur rushes to say, and I wonder if I’m supposed to pretend I didn’t see the flash of hurt in his eyes.
“It’s just that you only have one bed. And I’d want to be near you all the time, but my body still isn’t used to it. I don’t want to constantly be having panic attacks. And I know Ted has an extra room. Because he had a friend stay there a few months ago. If that’s okay, Ted. So I could still be a little secluded. I wish I could stay with you, really I do.”
Arthur’s eyes go so soft I practically see the hearts coming from his eyes, and that has the strange effect of only making me feel worse.
“Your mom lied about other things,” Ted interjects. “Maybe she didn’t really cancel the lease on your apartment? Do you want to stop by there first and check?”
“The office will be closed, but maybe first thing tomorrow. And maybe you can come over and hang out tomorrow?” I turn to Arthur, hoping to make all this up to him. “Unless you’re staying here to be with your family. Which, of course, that’s what you’re doing.”
Arthur’s hand hangs in the air briefly before returning to his lap. Just another reminder that I’m so fucked up he can’t even touch me.
“I’m going to be where you are. I understand you not staying with me. I promise. But if you want me there tomorrow, then that’s where I’ll be.”
23
Arthur
I grab a variety of bagels first thing in the morning and take it to Ted’s house. He gave me the address last night, and although I slept in my own bed, for the few hours I could actually sleep, my heart and mind stayed with Dave the whole time.
I’m not going to lie, it hurt like a motherfucker when he asked to stay with Ted. But I understand why. It’s not that I’m hurt, more like it hurts to see him so wounded.
I ring the doorbell and Ted answers in jeans and a t-shirt.
“Hey, I didn’t expect to see you up,” I say. Most Saturdays, I sleep in if I can.
“I have to go in for work,” he says, and lowers his voice a little. “I’ve been having to pick up some of the extra shifts. I thought about hiring someone temporarily, but then I’d have to let them go right around Christmas. That would suck. And I can pick up the slack.”
“You’re a good guy, Ted Olson,” I say, and he looks almost surprised.
“Yeah, well so are you, Arthur Yuen. I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner.”
“Well, I didn’t exactly help,” I say with a slanted smile, and Ted laughs.
“No, you really didn’t.”
“What’s going on down there?” Dave asks, emerging from the stairs with sleep-rumpled hair. “Are you having a party without me?”
“I brought bagels. We can watch Saturday morning cartoons.”
“Is that even still a thing?” Dave asks, yawning, and approaches me with a hug. I wait patiently for him to come to me, and the shy man tucking into my chest like it could swallow him up is totally worth it.
“I’m going to head out. Call me if you need anything. And remember, Dave. For as long as you need to be here, it’s your home too. Feel free to eat or use or do whatever you need. Got it?”
“Yep, thanks.”
Ted waves as he walks out the door.
“God, I can’t believe how nice he’s being,” Dave says after Ted is gone. I will admit to a tiny part of me thinking that I could be nice too, if only he’d let me. But then I kick myself for making any of this about me after everything that Dave has been through. “He’s keeping my job open for me. I promised to try to start back up this week, but I’m still trying to figure out everything. I have no car. No license. No credit or debit cards. No way to access my bank account. I don’t even have any fucking clothes except what I was wearing yesterday and this outfit that Ted grabbed from his nephew’s closet.”
“Then it’s a good thing you’ve got me, because I can help you get things started. List-making is my middle name,” I say, taking the bagels to the living room and settling down onto the couch.
“I thought it was Hulk.”
“No, that’s my dick’s middle name.”
“That was so bad.”
“You started it.”
“Um, I really didn’t.”
We’re laughing and it feels like old times, and it’s a natural reaction I have to lean forward and kiss that smirk right off his face. But the second his eyes double in size, I know I’ve made a mistake.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” I say and scoot away from him.
Shaking hands cover his face, and I long to take them in mine and comfort him, but I’m afraid of making it worse. He draws his knees up, his feet on the couch in front of him, like he’s creating a barrier. Fuck. My heart aches for him.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he repeats over and over.
“You have nothing to be sorry for. Just remember that I would never hurt you. Ever.”
He swipes at his eyes with the back of his hand, finally raising his head to look at me. “I know that. But my body doesn’t react that way anymore. Anyone approaches, and it sets me off. I don’t know what to do.”
I don’t know what to do either, but I go on the assumption that it’s always better to tackle problems together rather than apart. I hold out my hand on the couch, palm up. An invitation. Dave timidly places his hand in mine. It feels cool and clammy, and I gently fold my fingers over his. Not squeezing or stroking. Just holding. Like I wish I could do with his heart.
“For now, we’ll do what we can to get through it. We’ll take it slow and be patient. There’s no rush.” The longer I hold his hand, the more relaxed his body becomes. The shaking subsides and his breathing returns to normal. “Have you seen a therapist? You know, it wasn’t just your body that was damaged. They have ways they can help you learn to manage panic attacks. We could even go together, so I could learn how to help you through them. If you wanted, that is.”
“The hospital referred me to someone. They basically said the same thing you just did. But my dad didn’t want me to go. He thinks it’s a load of crap.”
I try my best to refrain from saying the many, many things about Dave’s father that are right on the very tip of my tongue, begging to be released. Instead, I try for supportive. “And what do you think?”
“I think I’ll try anything to get back to normal.”
Dave slowly scoots closer and closer to me, lowering himself until he lays across my lap and watches cartoons. He grabs my hand and brings it to his head, which I take as permission to give pets and scratches along his scalp. Dave hums his contentment, and we stay like that through several episodes before his stomach starts to grumble.
I lean forward to reach for the bagels and feel him tense in my lap. When I look down, his eyes are squeezed shut and his breathing is way too fast. Fuck.
I scoot back and try to put as much space between us as I can without dislodging him completely from my lap onto the floor.
“Fuck,” he shouts, rolling off me to the other side of the couch. His hands are in fists and he slams them against the cushions. “It felt so good until you moved. I’m sorry. Fuck, why can’t I be normal?”
“Puppy.” I try to speak in the commanding handler tone that makes him acquiesce so readily. The voice that always makes him roll over and expose his belly – or at least it used to. “There is no such thing as normal, and there is nothing wrong with you. It’s going to take time, but that’s something we have plenty of. Stop thinking that there’s something wrong with you or that I’m somehow going to be disappointed with y
ou.”
Dave swallows hard and nods but stays in the corner of the couch for the rest of the morning.
24
Dave
My fingers tap nervously against my thigh. Ted hasn’t asked me to stop, but he keeps looking over, probably checking for signs of panic. My first day back at work.
“I can drop you off out front,” he says with a sideways glance.
“Thanks, but I think this is one of those things I need to face head-on.”
I mentally repeat my therapist’s instructions. She had a name for it, but I don’t remember.
My feet are on the ground. Well, sort of. They’re on the floor of Ted’s truck, which is on the ground. I can feel that.
We turn the corner, and the next corner is the alley.
“You’re safe,” Ted says, and I reach out a hand to grab his hairy, exposed forearm, and he lets me.
Ted’s arms are hairy. Shit. Really hairy. I wonder if the rest of him is hairy too. Not in a creepy way. He keeps his beard nicely trimmed, but I bet it would be a beast if he grew it out.
The parking lot comes into view.
Deep breaths.
“You’re safe,” Ted repeats. “There are more patrols than ever before out here.”
I appreciate that he’s trying to help, but that only makes me think of why more patrols are needed.
Focus. Deep breaths.
I touch the chilled glass of the window.
The window is hard and smooth and freezing.
I remove my hand because it is too cold, and my handprint remains, drops of condensation rolling down and destroying the image.
The truck has come to a stop and Ted has his door open.
“Do you want me to come around?”
It feels like failure, but yes, I do. I can’t get the words out, though, so I simply nod.
Ted opens my door for me but stays back so he doesn’t crowd me. I slide down out of the seat and wrap my arms around him.
Ted’s shirt is soft under my palms, and his hair smells woodsy, like he used some “Man” brand shampoo and not a normal scent. He doesn’t have much hair, though, so he probably doesn’t worry too much about it.