Finding Eden(47)
“What do you need it for?” she asked, pulling Danny out of his internal musings as he tried to decide who he was going to whore himself out to for cash.
“Paul’s sick,” he said, knowing his mother wouldn’t tell anyone. “He’s really sick.”
“His mama—”
“Gimme a fucking break,” Danny said bitterly. “She’s bad for his health.”
“What is wrong with her? I never understood her. Why doesn’t she protect her babies?”
“Fear, probably.” Danny blinked heavy-lidded eyes, feeling almost drunk with exhaustion.
“No excuse,” his mother said fiercely. “I never let your father hit you. Not once!”
“I’m not entirely sure that caused any sort of improvement,” Danny said, and then looked down the hallway to where Paul slept and reconsidered. “But thank you. I do appreciate it.”
“He knows I’d kill him in his sleep.”
“Nice.” Danny laughed despite everything. “Calm down, Mama bear. I just need some cleaning supplies. I can feel the germs in this house.”
“Oye!” she shouted. “What’s this? You’re getting new compulsions! You’re not taking your medicine!”
“I am,” Danny lied.
“Liar! You know you’re OCD. Feeling germs, that’s a compulsion.”
“Look, the doctor helping Paul told me to clean the house,” Danny argued. “He did, I swear. I’ll have him call you if you don’t believe me. He said it was a hazard.”
“It is a hazard.”
“What’s wrong with cleaning it? Paul’s got a million stitches. If he gets an infection we’re in big trouble, Mama.”
“Stitches?” she gasped. “What happened to him?”
“He got mugged,” he lied, wincing because his mother was extremely intuitive. “Sorta.”
“Paul’s pretty big to get mugged. What aren’t you telling me?”
“Lots,” he said with a cynical laugh. “I just need this house cleaned. The doctor’s coming back this afternoon and if he thinks I’m not doing anything to make this place livable, I will die. He’ll think I’m not protecting him and I just—”
“I’ll call the cleaners,” she said, sounding pleased with herself. “They’ll come today.”
“No, I wanna do it,” Danny said, finding that his fingers were literally itching to clean.
“You’re not taking your medicine. I know you’re not. Why are you always so difficult—”
“It’s not a mental problem,” he reiterated. “I just won’t know they did a good-enough job if they do it. Besides, I need food in this house. Paul looks as if he hasn’t eaten in weeks.”
“He’s not the only one,” she huffed, now properly distracted by the subject of food. “Come pick me up. We’ll figure something out.”
*
Lucidity was passing at best. Paul was feeling really divine with his back on fire and what felt like a constant pain buzz rushing through his system. Life had an eerie trancelike quality. The shadows on the walls becoming more real than they should, the voices drifting in and out of his consciousness seeming too far to reach out and communicate with. Paul gave up before trying and closed his eyes to vivid dreams bursting with life and color. Some were of Eve, but just as many were of Danny and he clung to them, not wanting to wake up to a reality where both his best friend and his girl were better off without him.
“Paul.” A cool hand ran over his forehead, brushing at hair sticky with sweat. “Your fever’s back up. We need to take your temperature.”
Paul squinted, trying to focus on the face swimming in front of him. He grimaced when he did. “Why?”
“You’re sick.”
“I am?” Paul asked in surprise, though it made sense. He certainly didn’t feel like himself. “Then why are you here?”
Jason smiled. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You’ll catch it,” Paul said, thinking it was obvious as he pulled the blanket over his head. “’M’fine.”
“You’re not fine,” Jason said softly. “I need you to let me take your temperature and then I’m going to give you another shot.”
“Why?”
“God,” he said with an incredulous laugh. “You are, hands down, the worst patient I’ve ever dealt with and I work with small children.”
“Sorry,” Paul said, his eyes falling closed beneath the blanket. His hot breath against the material made him feel smothered but he didn’t mind. “I’ll try harder.”