"It'll be an early start in the morning, hope that's okay. I could drive Hugh myself if you want, and meet you there..." I go quiet, realising that I'm rambling, filling space. I remember something about yesterday and it makes me frown. "We yelled at each other, yesterday. Yelled and shoved. He made me want to hit him." I run my fingers through my hair. "I've never yelled at him before."
A thousand things run through my mind. He didn't make you want to hit him. But you wanted to. I wanted to hit Billy. Wanted to break his fucking stupid need for pain. Wanted to throw Dom across the camp. Wanted to fall on the ground and cry, like a child. So, I hit a tree. Maybe I should have yelled at Billy. Why do you cut yourself? Why do you ... Why is my heart cold, cold as, so cold that if you touch it, it will burn you? But none of these can come out of my mouth.
"Three weeks, you say? That's not very long, to know someone, and find out they have a condition that might kill them. Must be scary?" So therapeutic sounding. "What happened, that you almost hit him?"
Is that all? It sounds like such a short time when I hear it presented back to me. "No. It's not long. But sometimes, you know, you just click with somebody, and you know it's right. That's how it is with us. We know."
I close my eyes, an image of Hugh before me, as he was in the bathroom on Sunday night, his eyes full of anger and pain. "He was sick, in the bathroom, coughing up blood in the sink. He yelled at me to get out, shoved me against the door. I yelled back. Shoved back."
I give a sigh, open my eyes again and look at Jake. I must look a picture today, if I look anything like the way I feel, hardly slept since Friday. "I know why he did it. He doesn't want to burden me with his illness. He wants to pretend everything's normal. But I don't want him to shut me out."
Shut out. That's how Billy felt from me. That's how I felt, from him. At least Hugh will let ou touch him, Karl, I want to say. Although hitting and shoving and yelling to get someone's attention...that's not healthy, either.
"I was terrified, when Billy was hurt. Terrified. Afraid he was going to die, he looked so awful, the blood, the bruises..." Lift my face to the ceiling but don't see it; see the basement door, not letting us in, see the hospital lights, illuminating nothing. "It's the hardest thing I've ever done, Karl, waiting to know if he would live. I don't envy you. Click, or no click: it hurts, letting your heart open to someone else's risks."
I try to wipe my eyes with my left hand, but it's still taped up, and all I succeed in doing is feeling stupid. "After that, after the shoving. Were you able to talk?"
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"Three weeks, you say? That's not very long, to know someone, and find out they have a condition that might kill them. Must be scary?" So therapeutic sounding. "What happened, that you almost hit him?"
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I close my eyes, an image of Hugh before me, as he was in the bathroom on Sunday night, his eyes full of anger and pain. "He was sick, in the bathroom, coughing up blood in the sink. He yelled at me to get out, shoved me against the door. I yelled back. Shoved back."
I give a sigh, open my eyes again and look at Jake. I must look a picture today, if I look anything like the way I feel, hardly slept since Friday. "I know why he did it. He doesn't want to burden me with his illness. He wants to pretend everything's normal. But I don't want him to shut me out."
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Shut out. That's how Billy felt from me. That's how I felt, from him. At least Hugh will let ou touch him, Karl, I want to say. Although hitting and shoving and yelling to get someone's attention...that's not healthy, either.
"I was terrified, when Billy was hurt. Terrified. Afraid he was going to die, he looked so awful, the blood, the bruises..." Lift my face to the ceiling but don't see it; see the basement door, not letting us in, see the hospital lights, illuminating nothing. "It's the hardest thing I've ever done, Karl, waiting to know if he would live. I don't envy you. Click, or no click: it hurts, letting your heart open to someone else's risks."
I try to wipe my eyes with my left hand, but it's still taped up, and all I succeed in doing is feeling stupid. "After that, after the shoving. Were you able to talk?"
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