Alex In the City by BymagaJones 13/16: The Cure To All Ills
Chapter 12: Friends Lost
Chapter 13: The Cure To All Ills
Class was killing Mercedes. Normally, she enjoyed her theater classes and tolerated her required ones, but today they were just holding her back from doing what she wanted to do, and that was be with Puck and Alex. She’d kept her phone in her hands, reading each of Puck’s texts as they arrived. She’d also gotten a couple from Marcel, bless him, letting her know what was going on from his point of view. She responded to Marcel’s but waited Puck out, not wanting to add her input until she’d learned the whole story. She wanted to see their faces, look at their body language. They’d been going over learning how to project intentions without speech in her movement class, and she’d been applying some of the things she’d learned in her real life. She found, especially with Alex, that she could almost learn more from watching him than she could from listening to him. And now, learning that he’d lost his friend and had been trying to deal with it without them, she just wanted to hug him. Only Puck had gotten close enough to do that, but just the other week, she’d hip checked Alex in the kitchen, and he hadn’t run away screaming. Yeah, she was making some progress.
Her phone vibrated, and she surreptitiously read that they were headed to the apartment after buying “shitloads of ice cream”. She had to smother a smile at the order that she drag her ass home immediately since they had a huge spoon with her name on it.
She zipped out of her last class and took the subway home, almost running to the apartment. She had a difficult time fitting her key in the lock, she was breathing so hard, but the door swung open suddenly, Puck grabbing her arm and pulling her into the apartment.
He looked behind himself before whispering as he quietly closed the door and started helping Mercedes take off her bag and coat. “We only have a second; Alex is in the bathroom. His friend OD’d earlier this week, and Momma Cass helped Alex with the paperwork so that he could get control over the guy’s body and get him cremated. We spread the dude’s ashes up in Central Park - stop with the face - ”
Mercedes straightened the face she hadn’t even known she had, but spreading the ashes in public? Eww. There must be laws against that kind of thing, she thought, but she refocused on Puck.
“ - and Alex is going to be homeless in a couple of days, because he had to use all of his money on his friend. So we’re going to eat until we throw up tonight and figure out something tomorrow. Got it?”
Mercedes nodded. “Ice cream until we throw up. Got it.”
Puck rolled his eyes. “Get your butt in here.”
“Where’s my spoon?” Mercedes asked as Alex walked out of the bathroom.
He looked terrible, worse than she’d imagined. She’d expected sadness, maybe some worry, but he looked close to being shattered. She reminded herself that in two days, he was going to be on the streets again after all the crimping and saving he’d done. He was looking to returning to a life without locks or warmth, without a place to be safe. He was going to have to give up all those things he’d slowly been collecting to create a home for himself. So for all intents and purposes, he’d lost almost everything, his friend and his home. But he hadn’t lost them. He still had Puck, and he still had Mercedes.
Puck handed Mercedes her large spoon and gave her one of his let’s-don’t-blow-this looks before sitting down.
Mercedes and Alex’s relationship had started out a little rocky, but now she wasn’t waiting for him to turn back into Kurt or suddenly remind her of some incident in his past. In fact, she rarely thought of Kurt when she was with Alex anymore. It was as though he were truly a different person. The one thing they did have in common, though, was that they both brought out Mercedes’ protective and supportive side. No one was gonna hurt them if Mercedes had any say in it. Turned out, Alex inspired the same feelings in Puck. Mercedes absently wondered if Kurt would have done the same had he and Puck gotten to know each other back in high school.
“What kinds of ice cream did you get?” Mercedes asked, peering in the open cartons sitting on top of the coffee table.
“We got your garden variety vanilla and chocolate, a few different kinds of Ben & Jerrys, some Breyers.”
Mercedes looked around for a bowl, but Puck smirked at her. “No bowls allowed, Sister. We’re strictly a spoon-in-carton operation here.”
Both Puck and Alex held up their spoons in unison. If Alex hadn’t looked so sad, Mercedes probably would have busted up with laughter. Instead, she merely grinned and grabbed a container.
Two hours later, they all lay around, hands on stomachs, eyes barely open.
“I think I need to throw up,” Mercedes groaned.
“I call dibs,” Puck said, although he didn’t move.
After a few seconds, Mercedes said, “How am I supposed to wait my turn if you don’t get up?”
“Okay. You go first.”
Mercedes didn’t move either, and Puck laughed. He tilted his head from his end of the sofa to look over at Alex. “You still conscious over there?”
“Hmmm,” Alex groaned.
“How was this going to help again?” Mercedes asked.
“This is supposed to be the underaged version of drinking alcohol,” Puck explained, “but I think downing a fifth of vodka and the ensuing hangover would’ve felt better than this.”
“When’d you stop drinking alcohol?” Mercedes asked.
“Who said I stopped?” Puck asked. “I just thought I’d try something new, something legal, and look what it got me. Bloated on the couch, and I’m going to remember every sickening bite.”
“But you won’t be waking up in some stranger’s bed,” Mercedes offered, “trying to sneak out before she wakes up.”
“There is that, I suppose,” Puck conceded.
“So what do we do now?”
Puck blinked at Mercedes. “Umm, pass out?”
“Alex’ll be hurting tomorrow if he sleeps in that chair all night,” Mercedes said, although she couldn’t see how he was going to make it all the way to his room.
“I’ve slept in worse places,” Alex reminded her.
“He can crash with me,” Puck said.
Mercedes glared at him.
“What?”
She wasn’t going to have this conversation in front of Alex, but she’d seen Puck when he was crushing on someone, and she knew all the signs, signs she was seeing when he talked about or spent time with Alex. Normally, it wouldn’t be a problem, but they’d just gotten Alex back, and while things were good, they weren’t solid enough to handle a failed relationship. Plus, she knew for a fact that Kurt still hadn’t even been kissed before he left Lima. She wasn’t sure how extensive Alex’s sexual knowledge was now, but she could tell that he was still a romantic and couldn’t imagine him sleeping around. Like Puck. She doubted he’d been very sexually active while he was homeless, which meant that he might have some bad memories, and she didn’t want Puck forcing the issue.
“Alex can stay with me,” she said. “My bed’s bigger.” She thought a moment. “And better.”
“That’s true,” Puck conceded, rolling his head to look in Alex’s direction. “Her bed’s orgasmic. It’s just soft enough, just hard enough, and it’s one of those kinds where you can jump on one side without spilling a glass of wine sitting on the other side.”
Mercedes gave him another glare. When had he been jumping on her bed with a glass of wine?
“I saw it on TV, Aretha,” Puck said, not all together believably.
They all sat there, unmoving, listening as a key slid in the lock and the door open.
“Hey,” Mercedes heard Thomas say quietly. “Anyone awake?”
“We’re in here,” Mercedes said tiredly.
“Bloated and nauseous,” Puck added.
Thomas was one of those nondescript people that Mercedes passed on the street every day, curly dark brown hair, dark brown eyes, average height, average weight. But the thing that held him apart from everyone else couldn’t be found in looking at him on the street. Mercedes happened to know that when properly motivated, Thomas could fly. One day she was between classes and knew he was rehearsing nearby, so she snuck out and slid into the balcony. What she’d seen had taken her breath away. His powerful legs pushed him up into leaps that she swore would’ve been over her head and took him across the stage in seconds. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath until she’d begun to see spots. She’d never really looked at him the same way again.
“So, I have news,” Thomas said, walking further into the room. He had a hesitant smile on his face, and his eyes looked a little shocked.
“Good news or bad news?” Puck asked, and one quick glance at him told Mercedes that he was as confused by the mixed signals as she was.
“Good news?” Evidently, Thomas wasn’t sure either.
“Okay,” Puck drawled.
“I’ll be in the kitchen,” Alex said, standing.
“Please stay,” Thomas said. “It’s kind of like you’re our fourth, invisible roommate.” He smiled.
Alex smiled nervously back as he reseated himself, and Mercedes could tell he was shocked by Thomas’ words.
“What’s going on?” She asked finally, when it seemed like Thomas was just going to stand there.
“Finnoula’s pregnant,” Thomas said.
Silence reigned again as Thomas’ potential future flashed behind Mercedes’ eyes. She had a feeling she knew what was coming. Trying to sound upbeat but with a sinking heart, she said, “Congratulations! What’s the plan?”
“We’re going to get married and move in with her mom. She lives in Queens,” Thomas explained to Alex.
“Are you going to stay in school?” Puck asked.
“I’m going to try to see if I can maybe go part time. It’ll take longer to graduate, but that way I’ll be able to get a job. She’s going to try to see what she can do about this semester - she’s due in June, so she doesn’t think she’ll be able to finish it out. We’ll see how we can work things after the summer. She might postpone going back until either I graduate or the baby’s a little older.”
Puck took a deep breath and stood, holding out his hand. “Congratulations, man.”
Alex stood as well. “Yes, congratulations.”
After shaking their hands, he said, “I know this is short notice, and I’m willing to do whatever I can to help you find someone to take my place, but I’m planning on being out of here by tomorrow night.
“That’s okay,” Puck said. “We’ll figure it out.”
“Yeah,” Mercedes said, trading one of the lightening-fast blink-and-you’ll-miss-it glances with Puck that they’d developed since knowing Alex. She knew they were on the same page. “You take care of you. But promise you’ll stay in touch.”
“Absolutely,” Thomas said, smiling. It seemed like he was a little relieved that the conversation had gone so well. Considering the bind he was leaving them in, he’d probably been worried that they were going to make him pay for at least the next month’s rent while they looked for a new roommate. “I’m gonna grab some stuff tonight, but I’ll get the rest of my things tomorrow.”
Excited about the perfect timing, Mercedes spontaneously hugged Thomas.
“I’m gonna miss you.” Even though he was rarely there, Thomas was one of the first roommates Mercedes had ever had. He’d been really helpful and sweet when she first arrived, giving her tips and helping her find her way around. Having him leave was actually a little bittersweet.
“It was nice to meet you,” Alex said, smiling at him. “Good luck with everything.”
Thomas smiled, gave a little wave, and went into his room.
Puck and Mercedes collapsed back on the sofa.
“Did getting up hurt as much for you two as it did for me?” Puck asked.
Mercedes and Alex both nodded as they all groaned.
GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE
In the end, Alex slept on the sofa in the living room. He acted like he didn’t want to put anyone out, but truth be told, he knew he couldn’t handle the memories of sleeping with Mercedes. It would just bring up the past, and he had a difficult enough of a time keeping that stuff at bay lately. Just by virtue of the fact that he was spending more time with Mercedes and Puck, he found the past trying to make itself known like too much jelly squishing outside the bread in a sandwich. So many times he found himself about to bring up a story from the past to relate to a current conversation. He started to think that maybe Puck was right; maybe his shoving the past down deep was more painful than letting it out. But he’d been doing it for so long, Alex wasn’t sure how to do anything else. He knew he couldn’t just start talking about the past. He worried that it’d all come out at one time, that he’d be hit from behind by a huge wave and would only find himself spinning and drowning and floundering, unable to find his way up or out.
Plus, he knew he wasn’t going to be sleeping well. He still had losing his room hanging over his head, and his heart ached at the thought of leaving it all behind. It wasn’t much by most people’s standards, but it was everything to him.
He rolled over, facing Puck and Mercedes’ doors, both left open intentionally a crack to make sure that Alex was okay, and he amended his thought. Maybe his room wasn’t everything. Not anymore.
The next day, he awoke with Puck and Mercedes, who shoved cereal and coffee at him before they all walked out and went their separate ways at the train station. Mercedes had an early class, clearly one she wasn’t excited about attending, and Puck had an early shift at the bookstore. Alex had been told by both jobs that he could take as much time as he needed, but he needed the money. However, he had one stop he wanted to make before heading up to the chop shop.
Marcel didn’t seem surprised to see him when he opened the door. “Let’s go into my office.”
“This isn’t about Mace,” Alex said as soon as he and Marcel were seated.
“You sure about that?” Marcel asked.
“Umm, up until right now?” Alex said with a little smile. Marcel just smiled back at him silently for a moment, which made Alex a little uneasy. “What?”
“I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you make a joke.”
Alex frowned, tracing back through his memory.
“You’re looking me in the eyes now. And you’re talking in complete sentences.” Marcel leaned back. “Hanging around Puck and Mercedes seems to be doing you some good.”
Alex found that he didn’t even want to stop the smile from spreading across his face. “They accept who I am now.” He looked down at his hands pressing against the bag on his lap.
“That’s a good thing, right?”
“Yes,” Alex said, and the word sounded weak. So he said it again stronger.
“But... but Puck and I were talking after we scattered Mace’s ashes up at the Meer, and he was saying that maybe burying the past just gives it more power, that maybe if it’s let out instead, it might hurt really bad at first, but eventually the good memories will outshine the bad.”
“What do you think about that?”
Alex’s hands moved up to grip the strap on his bag. “I don’t know. What do you think?”
“Is what I think important?”
“Yes!” Alex burst out, sliding to the edge of his seat, staring hard at Marcel, hoping he’d understand. “I don’t want - what if he’s wrong? What if the past gets out there, and it doesn’t get better, and it gets worse, and there’s no way to put the damn genie back in the bottle - ”
“Stop.” Marcel held out a hand. “Just stop. And breathe a second.”
Alex closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them back up.
“Okay. Let’s make it simple. What’s the best that could happen?”
Alex sat there, mouth open, unable to even imagine that.
“You could deal with the pain in your past, allowing yourself the freedom to be open to possibility.”
It was like Marcel had suddenly started speaking a different language.
Marcel shook his head. “How about we try thinking about the worst thing that could happen?”
“The memories overpower me and burrow into my brain until I’m practically comatose and unable to even form a coherent thought, and I’m put into a mental institution. Since I’m poor, I’d end up going to one of those state run things where they leave you lying in a pool of your own filth, and the nurses take money so people can have sex with you.”
Eyes wide, Marcel exhaled. “Wow. Just - wow.” He sat back and ran a hand over his face. “You should speak to a licensed psychologist. We have two who volunteer here, and they’re both really good.”
“No.” Alex said. It hadn’t been easy coming to Marcel, but he knew Marcel had lived on the street, had seen a lot while helping out his mother. He’d watched Marcel’s thoughtfulness, his nonjudgmental attitude with the people who came through the shelter. He didn’t know these other two people, and he wasn’t about to sit there and explain himself to a stranger, especially not when he had Marcel.”
“I gotta say that I’m feeling a little out of my depth here. I’m still - ”
“Marcel,” Alex said, putting a hand over Marcel’s on the desk. “I know you and trust you.”
Marcel’s eyes managed to get even wider, and he turned his hand to hold onto Alex’s, squeezing it before letting it go. “Okay, then. I guess we’ll just feel our way along, but promise me that if at any time you don’t feel comfortable talking to me or want someone with more experience, you’ll tell me. I won’t be hurt.”
Alex knew that Marcel was trying to be truthful, but he’d totally be hurt if Alex asked to see someone else, because this was personal for both of them, and that’s one of the reasons why Alex trusted him so much. That was okay, though, because Alex wasn’t going to change his mind. “Promise.”
“Okay.” Marcel took a breath and thought a moment. “I don’t know what happened in your past. I do know that odds are, you weren’t living the perfect life before one day you decided to move to the City to become homeless. It seems to me that we all look at life through glasses colored by our past; it’s just that some of us pretend that our glasses are clearer than they are. Pretending that our glasses are clear doesn’t mean that it’s the truth, and it can color how we look at things in such a way that we close ourselves off.” He looked pointed at the bag on Alex’s lap. “Let me guess. That contains some ties to your past, maybe pictures or little knickknacks.”
Alex felt his face get hot, but he remained silent, his eyes focused on the bag. He watched his knuckles turn white and forces his hands to relax.
“How long has it been since you’ve even looked at anything in there?”
Alex tried to remember but couldn’t recall looking in the bag since he’d put the stuff in there before he left… well, just before.
“So you’re carrying around a bag of your past, ready to defend it with your life, yet you can’t bring yourself to look inside?”
Alex sighed. “When you put it like that…”
Marcel raised his eyebrows.
“My past is always with me, even when I’m trying to ignore it.”
Marcel opened his arms in a there-you-go gesture.
“So you’re saying I should go through the bag?”
“I can’t tell you what to do,” Marcel said.
“But that’s why I came here!” Alex practically wailed.
Looking amused, Marcel said, “You have to choose what’s right for you. Maybe you’re ready to go through the bag; maybe you’re not.” He thought a moment. “On second thought, I am going to tell you what to do. Don’t mess with the bag yet. Some time today, I want you to take one memory - a good one - and think about it. It doesn’t have to be anything big. It could be one day when it was beautiful outside, and you walked to the park. It could be a day you played with your dog in the yard. Whatever it is, just take it out and look at it.”
“And then what?” Alex asked, wary. That seemed a little easy.
“The next day, take out another memory. When and if you feel comfortable, share it with someone. You don’t have to make it a big deal, and you can share it with Mercedes or Puck or a stranger in the street. “
Alex nodded.
“Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?”
Alex took a deep breath. “Tonight’s my last day in my room.” Closing his eyes, he fought back the tears.
“Mace’s stuff?”
Alex nodded, eyes still closed.
“First of all, you didn’t fail.”
Alex’s eyes popped open in surprise, and he stared at Marcel, wondering how those few words could mean so much when he didn’t even know he needed to hear them.
“You didn’t lose the money or your job. You didn’t spend it on something frivolous or use it to feed your addiction. The only reason you can’t afford it is because you took care of a friend.
“Now, what’s your plan?”
“I’m going to pack up my stuff as soon as I leave here and turn in my keys.”
Marcel looked at him expectantly.
“And then I’m going to head into the shop and then go to the restaurant.”
“Where’re you sleeping tonight?”
Alex closed his eyes. He just couldn’t say it out loud.
“Come here, at least for the night.”
“I can’t,” Alex whispered, tears making his throat tight. “The restaurant closes at midnight tonight.” If he were lucky, he’d get out by about twelve thirty, and the shelter locked down for the night at ten.
“Ask them to let you out early.”
Alex shook his head. It was bad enough that he had to explain about Mace’s death. He wasn’t about to explain that he was homeless again. He just couldn’t. He took a couple of deep breaths, waiting until he could speak without crying.
“I’ve done it before. I can do it again.” He didn’t want to look at Marcel and see pity. That would be the end of it.
“Alex.” Marcel wouldn’t be ignored. Alex looked up and found only understanding in Marcel’s eyes. It meant almost as much as his earlier words. “Promise me you won’t give up.”
“Like Mace?” Alex whispered.
“And so many other people out there.”
Alex knew he wouldn’t find himself in Washington Square Park trying to score, but he really felt as though he were on a dangerous, scary precipice. “I can’t promise not to O.D. on ice cream, though.” He caught Marcel’s curious look. “Sorry. Inside joke.”
A/N: If you find this chapter much easier to read, thank pterawaters (I don't know how to do that thing where you turn the person's name into a live link. Sorry.), who suggested I add a line break after each chapter - and then explained to me how to do it!
Chapter 14: Will the Real BAMF Please Stand Up
Entry with links to each chapter
Chapter 13: The Cure To All Ills
Class was killing Mercedes. Normally, she enjoyed her theater classes and tolerated her required ones, but today they were just holding her back from doing what she wanted to do, and that was be with Puck and Alex. She’d kept her phone in her hands, reading each of Puck’s texts as they arrived. She’d also gotten a couple from Marcel, bless him, letting her know what was going on from his point of view. She responded to Marcel’s but waited Puck out, not wanting to add her input until she’d learned the whole story. She wanted to see their faces, look at their body language. They’d been going over learning how to project intentions without speech in her movement class, and she’d been applying some of the things she’d learned in her real life. She found, especially with Alex, that she could almost learn more from watching him than she could from listening to him. And now, learning that he’d lost his friend and had been trying to deal with it without them, she just wanted to hug him. Only Puck had gotten close enough to do that, but just the other week, she’d hip checked Alex in the kitchen, and he hadn’t run away screaming. Yeah, she was making some progress.
Her phone vibrated, and she surreptitiously read that they were headed to the apartment after buying “shitloads of ice cream”. She had to smother a smile at the order that she drag her ass home immediately since they had a huge spoon with her name on it.
She zipped out of her last class and took the subway home, almost running to the apartment. She had a difficult time fitting her key in the lock, she was breathing so hard, but the door swung open suddenly, Puck grabbing her arm and pulling her into the apartment.
He looked behind himself before whispering as he quietly closed the door and started helping Mercedes take off her bag and coat. “We only have a second; Alex is in the bathroom. His friend OD’d earlier this week, and Momma Cass helped Alex with the paperwork so that he could get control over the guy’s body and get him cremated. We spread the dude’s ashes up in Central Park - stop with the face - ”
Mercedes straightened the face she hadn’t even known she had, but spreading the ashes in public? Eww. There must be laws against that kind of thing, she thought, but she refocused on Puck.
“ - and Alex is going to be homeless in a couple of days, because he had to use all of his money on his friend. So we’re going to eat until we throw up tonight and figure out something tomorrow. Got it?”
Mercedes nodded. “Ice cream until we throw up. Got it.”
Puck rolled his eyes. “Get your butt in here.”
“Where’s my spoon?” Mercedes asked as Alex walked out of the bathroom.
He looked terrible, worse than she’d imagined. She’d expected sadness, maybe some worry, but he looked close to being shattered. She reminded herself that in two days, he was going to be on the streets again after all the crimping and saving he’d done. He was looking to returning to a life without locks or warmth, without a place to be safe. He was going to have to give up all those things he’d slowly been collecting to create a home for himself. So for all intents and purposes, he’d lost almost everything, his friend and his home. But he hadn’t lost them. He still had Puck, and he still had Mercedes.
Puck handed Mercedes her large spoon and gave her one of his let’s-don’t-blow-this looks before sitting down.
Mercedes and Alex’s relationship had started out a little rocky, but now she wasn’t waiting for him to turn back into Kurt or suddenly remind her of some incident in his past. In fact, she rarely thought of Kurt when she was with Alex anymore. It was as though he were truly a different person. The one thing they did have in common, though, was that they both brought out Mercedes’ protective and supportive side. No one was gonna hurt them if Mercedes had any say in it. Turned out, Alex inspired the same feelings in Puck. Mercedes absently wondered if Kurt would have done the same had he and Puck gotten to know each other back in high school.
“What kinds of ice cream did you get?” Mercedes asked, peering in the open cartons sitting on top of the coffee table.
“We got your garden variety vanilla and chocolate, a few different kinds of Ben & Jerrys, some Breyers.”
Mercedes looked around for a bowl, but Puck smirked at her. “No bowls allowed, Sister. We’re strictly a spoon-in-carton operation here.”
Both Puck and Alex held up their spoons in unison. If Alex hadn’t looked so sad, Mercedes probably would have busted up with laughter. Instead, she merely grinned and grabbed a container.
Two hours later, they all lay around, hands on stomachs, eyes barely open.
“I think I need to throw up,” Mercedes groaned.
“I call dibs,” Puck said, although he didn’t move.
After a few seconds, Mercedes said, “How am I supposed to wait my turn if you don’t get up?”
“Okay. You go first.”
Mercedes didn’t move either, and Puck laughed. He tilted his head from his end of the sofa to look over at Alex. “You still conscious over there?”
“Hmmm,” Alex groaned.
“How was this going to help again?” Mercedes asked.
“This is supposed to be the underaged version of drinking alcohol,” Puck explained, “but I think downing a fifth of vodka and the ensuing hangover would’ve felt better than this.”
“When’d you stop drinking alcohol?” Mercedes asked.
“Who said I stopped?” Puck asked. “I just thought I’d try something new, something legal, and look what it got me. Bloated on the couch, and I’m going to remember every sickening bite.”
“But you won’t be waking up in some stranger’s bed,” Mercedes offered, “trying to sneak out before she wakes up.”
“There is that, I suppose,” Puck conceded.
“So what do we do now?”
Puck blinked at Mercedes. “Umm, pass out?”
“Alex’ll be hurting tomorrow if he sleeps in that chair all night,” Mercedes said, although she couldn’t see how he was going to make it all the way to his room.
“I’ve slept in worse places,” Alex reminded her.
“He can crash with me,” Puck said.
Mercedes glared at him.
“What?”
She wasn’t going to have this conversation in front of Alex, but she’d seen Puck when he was crushing on someone, and she knew all the signs, signs she was seeing when he talked about or spent time with Alex. Normally, it wouldn’t be a problem, but they’d just gotten Alex back, and while things were good, they weren’t solid enough to handle a failed relationship. Plus, she knew for a fact that Kurt still hadn’t even been kissed before he left Lima. She wasn’t sure how extensive Alex’s sexual knowledge was now, but she could tell that he was still a romantic and couldn’t imagine him sleeping around. Like Puck. She doubted he’d been very sexually active while he was homeless, which meant that he might have some bad memories, and she didn’t want Puck forcing the issue.
“Alex can stay with me,” she said. “My bed’s bigger.” She thought a moment. “And better.”
“That’s true,” Puck conceded, rolling his head to look in Alex’s direction. “Her bed’s orgasmic. It’s just soft enough, just hard enough, and it’s one of those kinds where you can jump on one side without spilling a glass of wine sitting on the other side.”
Mercedes gave him another glare. When had he been jumping on her bed with a glass of wine?
“I saw it on TV, Aretha,” Puck said, not all together believably.
They all sat there, unmoving, listening as a key slid in the lock and the door open.
“Hey,” Mercedes heard Thomas say quietly. “Anyone awake?”
“We’re in here,” Mercedes said tiredly.
“Bloated and nauseous,” Puck added.
Thomas was one of those nondescript people that Mercedes passed on the street every day, curly dark brown hair, dark brown eyes, average height, average weight. But the thing that held him apart from everyone else couldn’t be found in looking at him on the street. Mercedes happened to know that when properly motivated, Thomas could fly. One day she was between classes and knew he was rehearsing nearby, so she snuck out and slid into the balcony. What she’d seen had taken her breath away. His powerful legs pushed him up into leaps that she swore would’ve been over her head and took him across the stage in seconds. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath until she’d begun to see spots. She’d never really looked at him the same way again.
“So, I have news,” Thomas said, walking further into the room. He had a hesitant smile on his face, and his eyes looked a little shocked.
“Good news or bad news?” Puck asked, and one quick glance at him told Mercedes that he was as confused by the mixed signals as she was.
“Good news?” Evidently, Thomas wasn’t sure either.
“Okay,” Puck drawled.
“I’ll be in the kitchen,” Alex said, standing.
“Please stay,” Thomas said. “It’s kind of like you’re our fourth, invisible roommate.” He smiled.
Alex smiled nervously back as he reseated himself, and Mercedes could tell he was shocked by Thomas’ words.
“What’s going on?” She asked finally, when it seemed like Thomas was just going to stand there.
“Finnoula’s pregnant,” Thomas said.
Silence reigned again as Thomas’ potential future flashed behind Mercedes’ eyes. She had a feeling she knew what was coming. Trying to sound upbeat but with a sinking heart, she said, “Congratulations! What’s the plan?”
“We’re going to get married and move in with her mom. She lives in Queens,” Thomas explained to Alex.
“Are you going to stay in school?” Puck asked.
“I’m going to try to see if I can maybe go part time. It’ll take longer to graduate, but that way I’ll be able to get a job. She’s going to try to see what she can do about this semester - she’s due in June, so she doesn’t think she’ll be able to finish it out. We’ll see how we can work things after the summer. She might postpone going back until either I graduate or the baby’s a little older.”
Puck took a deep breath and stood, holding out his hand. “Congratulations, man.”
Alex stood as well. “Yes, congratulations.”
After shaking their hands, he said, “I know this is short notice, and I’m willing to do whatever I can to help you find someone to take my place, but I’m planning on being out of here by tomorrow night.
“That’s okay,” Puck said. “We’ll figure it out.”
“Yeah,” Mercedes said, trading one of the lightening-fast blink-and-you’ll-miss-it glances with Puck that they’d developed since knowing Alex. She knew they were on the same page. “You take care of you. But promise you’ll stay in touch.”
“Absolutely,” Thomas said, smiling. It seemed like he was a little relieved that the conversation had gone so well. Considering the bind he was leaving them in, he’d probably been worried that they were going to make him pay for at least the next month’s rent while they looked for a new roommate. “I’m gonna grab some stuff tonight, but I’ll get the rest of my things tomorrow.”
Excited about the perfect timing, Mercedes spontaneously hugged Thomas.
“I’m gonna miss you.” Even though he was rarely there, Thomas was one of the first roommates Mercedes had ever had. He’d been really helpful and sweet when she first arrived, giving her tips and helping her find her way around. Having him leave was actually a little bittersweet.
“It was nice to meet you,” Alex said, smiling at him. “Good luck with everything.”
Thomas smiled, gave a little wave, and went into his room.
Puck and Mercedes collapsed back on the sofa.
“Did getting up hurt as much for you two as it did for me?” Puck asked.
Mercedes and Alex both nodded as they all groaned.
GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE
In the end, Alex slept on the sofa in the living room. He acted like he didn’t want to put anyone out, but truth be told, he knew he couldn’t handle the memories of sleeping with Mercedes. It would just bring up the past, and he had a difficult enough of a time keeping that stuff at bay lately. Just by virtue of the fact that he was spending more time with Mercedes and Puck, he found the past trying to make itself known like too much jelly squishing outside the bread in a sandwich. So many times he found himself about to bring up a story from the past to relate to a current conversation. He started to think that maybe Puck was right; maybe his shoving the past down deep was more painful than letting it out. But he’d been doing it for so long, Alex wasn’t sure how to do anything else. He knew he couldn’t just start talking about the past. He worried that it’d all come out at one time, that he’d be hit from behind by a huge wave and would only find himself spinning and drowning and floundering, unable to find his way up or out.
Plus, he knew he wasn’t going to be sleeping well. He still had losing his room hanging over his head, and his heart ached at the thought of leaving it all behind. It wasn’t much by most people’s standards, but it was everything to him.
He rolled over, facing Puck and Mercedes’ doors, both left open intentionally a crack to make sure that Alex was okay, and he amended his thought. Maybe his room wasn’t everything. Not anymore.
The next day, he awoke with Puck and Mercedes, who shoved cereal and coffee at him before they all walked out and went their separate ways at the train station. Mercedes had an early class, clearly one she wasn’t excited about attending, and Puck had an early shift at the bookstore. Alex had been told by both jobs that he could take as much time as he needed, but he needed the money. However, he had one stop he wanted to make before heading up to the chop shop.
Marcel didn’t seem surprised to see him when he opened the door. “Let’s go into my office.”
“This isn’t about Mace,” Alex said as soon as he and Marcel were seated.
“You sure about that?” Marcel asked.
“Umm, up until right now?” Alex said with a little smile. Marcel just smiled back at him silently for a moment, which made Alex a little uneasy. “What?”
“I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you make a joke.”
Alex frowned, tracing back through his memory.
“You’re looking me in the eyes now. And you’re talking in complete sentences.” Marcel leaned back. “Hanging around Puck and Mercedes seems to be doing you some good.”
Alex found that he didn’t even want to stop the smile from spreading across his face. “They accept who I am now.” He looked down at his hands pressing against the bag on his lap.
“That’s a good thing, right?”
“Yes,” Alex said, and the word sounded weak. So he said it again stronger.
“But... but Puck and I were talking after we scattered Mace’s ashes up at the Meer, and he was saying that maybe burying the past just gives it more power, that maybe if it’s let out instead, it might hurt really bad at first, but eventually the good memories will outshine the bad.”
“What do you think about that?”
Alex’s hands moved up to grip the strap on his bag. “I don’t know. What do you think?”
“Is what I think important?”
“Yes!” Alex burst out, sliding to the edge of his seat, staring hard at Marcel, hoping he’d understand. “I don’t want - what if he’s wrong? What if the past gets out there, and it doesn’t get better, and it gets worse, and there’s no way to put the damn genie back in the bottle - ”
“Stop.” Marcel held out a hand. “Just stop. And breathe a second.”
Alex closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them back up.
“Okay. Let’s make it simple. What’s the best that could happen?”
Alex sat there, mouth open, unable to even imagine that.
“You could deal with the pain in your past, allowing yourself the freedom to be open to possibility.”
It was like Marcel had suddenly started speaking a different language.
Marcel shook his head. “How about we try thinking about the worst thing that could happen?”
“The memories overpower me and burrow into my brain until I’m practically comatose and unable to even form a coherent thought, and I’m put into a mental institution. Since I’m poor, I’d end up going to one of those state run things where they leave you lying in a pool of your own filth, and the nurses take money so people can have sex with you.”
Eyes wide, Marcel exhaled. “Wow. Just - wow.” He sat back and ran a hand over his face. “You should speak to a licensed psychologist. We have two who volunteer here, and they’re both really good.”
“No.” Alex said. It hadn’t been easy coming to Marcel, but he knew Marcel had lived on the street, had seen a lot while helping out his mother. He’d watched Marcel’s thoughtfulness, his nonjudgmental attitude with the people who came through the shelter. He didn’t know these other two people, and he wasn’t about to sit there and explain himself to a stranger, especially not when he had Marcel.”
“I gotta say that I’m feeling a little out of my depth here. I’m still - ”
“Marcel,” Alex said, putting a hand over Marcel’s on the desk. “I know you and trust you.”
Marcel’s eyes managed to get even wider, and he turned his hand to hold onto Alex’s, squeezing it before letting it go. “Okay, then. I guess we’ll just feel our way along, but promise me that if at any time you don’t feel comfortable talking to me or want someone with more experience, you’ll tell me. I won’t be hurt.”
Alex knew that Marcel was trying to be truthful, but he’d totally be hurt if Alex asked to see someone else, because this was personal for both of them, and that’s one of the reasons why Alex trusted him so much. That was okay, though, because Alex wasn’t going to change his mind. “Promise.”
“Okay.” Marcel took a breath and thought a moment. “I don’t know what happened in your past. I do know that odds are, you weren’t living the perfect life before one day you decided to move to the City to become homeless. It seems to me that we all look at life through glasses colored by our past; it’s just that some of us pretend that our glasses are clearer than they are. Pretending that our glasses are clear doesn’t mean that it’s the truth, and it can color how we look at things in such a way that we close ourselves off.” He looked pointed at the bag on Alex’s lap. “Let me guess. That contains some ties to your past, maybe pictures or little knickknacks.”
Alex felt his face get hot, but he remained silent, his eyes focused on the bag. He watched his knuckles turn white and forces his hands to relax.
“How long has it been since you’ve even looked at anything in there?”
Alex tried to remember but couldn’t recall looking in the bag since he’d put the stuff in there before he left… well, just before.
“So you’re carrying around a bag of your past, ready to defend it with your life, yet you can’t bring yourself to look inside?”
Alex sighed. “When you put it like that…”
Marcel raised his eyebrows.
“My past is always with me, even when I’m trying to ignore it.”
Marcel opened his arms in a there-you-go gesture.
“So you’re saying I should go through the bag?”
“I can’t tell you what to do,” Marcel said.
“But that’s why I came here!” Alex practically wailed.
Looking amused, Marcel said, “You have to choose what’s right for you. Maybe you’re ready to go through the bag; maybe you’re not.” He thought a moment. “On second thought, I am going to tell you what to do. Don’t mess with the bag yet. Some time today, I want you to take one memory - a good one - and think about it. It doesn’t have to be anything big. It could be one day when it was beautiful outside, and you walked to the park. It could be a day you played with your dog in the yard. Whatever it is, just take it out and look at it.”
“And then what?” Alex asked, wary. That seemed a little easy.
“The next day, take out another memory. When and if you feel comfortable, share it with someone. You don’t have to make it a big deal, and you can share it with Mercedes or Puck or a stranger in the street. “
Alex nodded.
“Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?”
Alex took a deep breath. “Tonight’s my last day in my room.” Closing his eyes, he fought back the tears.
“Mace’s stuff?”
Alex nodded, eyes still closed.
“First of all, you didn’t fail.”
Alex’s eyes popped open in surprise, and he stared at Marcel, wondering how those few words could mean so much when he didn’t even know he needed to hear them.
“You didn’t lose the money or your job. You didn’t spend it on something frivolous or use it to feed your addiction. The only reason you can’t afford it is because you took care of a friend.
“Now, what’s your plan?”
“I’m going to pack up my stuff as soon as I leave here and turn in my keys.”
Marcel looked at him expectantly.
“And then I’m going to head into the shop and then go to the restaurant.”
“Where’re you sleeping tonight?”
Alex closed his eyes. He just couldn’t say it out loud.
“Come here, at least for the night.”
“I can’t,” Alex whispered, tears making his throat tight. “The restaurant closes at midnight tonight.” If he were lucky, he’d get out by about twelve thirty, and the shelter locked down for the night at ten.
“Ask them to let you out early.”
Alex shook his head. It was bad enough that he had to explain about Mace’s death. He wasn’t about to explain that he was homeless again. He just couldn’t. He took a couple of deep breaths, waiting until he could speak without crying.
“I’ve done it before. I can do it again.” He didn’t want to look at Marcel and see pity. That would be the end of it.
“Alex.” Marcel wouldn’t be ignored. Alex looked up and found only understanding in Marcel’s eyes. It meant almost as much as his earlier words. “Promise me you won’t give up.”
“Like Mace?” Alex whispered.
“And so many other people out there.”
Alex knew he wouldn’t find himself in Washington Square Park trying to score, but he really felt as though he were on a dangerous, scary precipice. “I can’t promise not to O.D. on ice cream, though.” He caught Marcel’s curious look. “Sorry. Inside joke.”
A/N: If you find this chapter much easier to read, thank pterawaters (I don't know how to do that thing where you turn the person's name into a live link. Sorry.), who suggested I add a line break after each chapter - and then explained to me how to do it!
Chapter 14: Will the Real BAMF Please Stand Up
Entry with links to each chapter