Deadly Expectations (33 page)

“The pressure hurts Paul,” I rubbed the back of my neck.
 
“You need to move now.”

He sighed and started to slow down, but the wind pushed us again and wouldn’t let us.

“Have to do it on the fly … no stopping now,” I put a hand on the wheel and stood up a bit.
 
“Slide out underneath me.”

I bumped my head on the window as the truck recoiled from being hit again.

“Hurry,” he finally gave in and moved.
 
I sat down and quickly put my foot on the gas.
 
“Now hold on to me and close your eyes.”

“This is nuts,” he said.

“Close them … you’ll feel like shit after if you don’t.”

That was true.
 
I had done it once with my eyes open and threw up for hours after.
 
I was glad I had remembered.
 
He sighed and put his arms around me, one of his hands on the back of my neck.
 
I held the wheel with my left hand and put my other hand around him.

“Ready?”
 
I glanced over at him.
 
His eyes were closed when I looked.
 
Another gust pushed us into our seats.

“Yes.”

I focused on home.
 
Concentrated.
 
Pictured us back there again.
  
The pressure in my back peaked and I closed my eyes and matted the accelerator.

The truck leaped hard; I thought,
home.

Chapter 30

I stood in the cold again.
 
My hand on Paul’s back.
 
He was leaned over throwing up in the snow.
 
When I looked around I saw we were beside the barrels where he had found me.

“You kept your eyes open, didn’t you?”
 
I asked.

He heaved in reply.

“Let’s get inside, come on.
 
We’ll find the truck later.”

I took him by the elbow and led him out from the alley and up to the house.
 
The truck was nowhere near us but once we were close enough to see the house I spotted it parked in front.
 
Someone was on the porch looking at it.
 
Paul had to stop several times to throw up more before I thought I could make out who it was.

“Ray?”
 
I called.

He looked over and came to meet us.
 
He had to step back as Paul involuntarily threw up at his feet.
 
As he gave me a quick hug I lifted my chin and kissed his cheek.
 
“What’s the matter Paul?”

“He didn’t close his eyes for the jump,” I told Ray.
 
“He might be throwing up for hours.
 
Funny … no missed time.
 
I don’t feel like we’ve been driving for days.
 
I guess I’m learning.”

Paul heaved again.

“I’ll be okay Ray,” Paul managed.
 
“I didn’t think she could do it … I wanted to make sure she didn’t drive us off the road.”

Ray helped him inside while I got our things out of the truck.
 
When I got in Ray had left Paul at the kitchen sink while he went to get him a bucket.
 
He also came back with a shot for him.

“
Gravol
Paul,” he told him.

We got his jacket off and his sleeve up then we took him to the common room and he lay down on the couch with his bucket on the floor.
 
Within half an hour the heaving had stopped and the shot Ray had given him had him asleep.
 
We sat silently watching him for a while until my stomach rumbled so I went to the kitchen to see what I could find.
 
It felt like breakfast time for me even though the clock said it was after eleven.
 
I was taking care of the dishwashers when the front door opened.

“Captain’s back?”
Denis’ voice.

“Yeah,” Ray said.
 
“Anna brought him in.”

“Anna’s here?” he asked.

I stepped around the corner.

“Hey Denis,” he came over and hugged me.

“Where have you been?”
 
Denis asked.

Ray looked at me to hear my answer too.
 
I pressed my lips together and shook my head then I took my seat next to Paul.
 
I ignored the watch change and the stares and the questions about the Captain until it was just the three of us again.

“He looks bad Ray.”

“Yes,” he agreed.

Paul looked thin, exhausted.
 
He hadn’t cut his hair since I left and the curls went every which way.
 
The last week’s beard had grey in it around his chin.
 
In the truck I’d been avoiding the expression on his face but sleeping now he seemed so peaceful.

“So this is what it’s like for you two watching me sleep?”

“Something like this,” Ray said.

“You should turn in.
 
I’ll stay.”

He didn’t get up and eventually I fell asleep in the chair.

The murmur of their quiet voices woke me.
 
My eyes popped open to see Ray watching me.
 
I glanced at Paul, he was watching me too but they had both stopped talking.
 
I couldn’t look at Paul for more than that brief half second.
 
I knew the expression I would see if I looked back.
 
The black hopelessness I had put him through tightening every muscle in him.
 
The anger in his eyes.
 
I had pushed him to the very edge.
 
I put my hands in my lap and looked at them instead.

“Did you find what you were looking for Anna?”
 
Ray asked.

God I hope so, I thought.

“I found a lot,” I finally said.

Ray waited for me to look up at him.

“Do you think it was worth it?” he asked, quickly glancing at Paul.

God I hope so, I answered to myself again.
 
I risked a quick look at Paul.
 
His expression hadn’t changed.

“I need to see his father,” I told them.
 
“I’m not going alone.”

That sat with them for a while.

Finally Ray asked.
 
“You can find his father?”

“I found yours,” I answered quietly.
 
Paul finally moved; his head at least.
 
He and Ray looked at each other.
 
Nobody said anything for a long time.

“Am I sleeping down here?”

Neither spoke.

I went to the laundry for clean sheets, took my bag, and headed upstairs.
 
If our room was in as rough shape as Paul the bed would need them.
 
As I climbed the stairs I noticed that something was different.
 
The hall light was on and parts of the walls were missing.
 
The top floor hadn’t been demolished.
 
It had been assaulted.
 
As I peered through the huge holes in the walls I could see empty whiskey and beer bottles.
 
I understood how Paul had spent much of the past two months.

The door at the end was closed and when I opened it the air was as cold as it had been when I had left.
 
I couldn’t find either lamp in the dark either on the tables or the floor so I made my way to the bathroom and turned on the light there.
 
With the bathroom door open there was enough light to see that the bed was just a pile of sheets and blankets.
 
The same sheets I had put on what seemed like only hours earlier.
 
I pulled everything off and put the clean sheets on.
 
The blankets all smelled so I heaped them up with the sheets.

The dresser my things were in was tipped over on the floor.
 
I stood it up.
 
Fortunately none of the drawers were broken.
 
The screwdriver I’d put in my drawer was still there so I pulled off the front of the register and tucked the old shirt in with the dirty bedding.
 
Warm air came in.

I hauled all the dirty things downstairs and got clean blankets, tucked a spare roll of toilet paper under my arm and got a glass of water from the kitchen before I returned to our room.
 
Paul and Ray stopped talking when I walked past and sat silently until I left.

The room warmed up quickly.
 
Some of the blankets would have to go … probably long before morning but at least I would be warm if Paul decided to stay on the couch.
 
Now that we were home Paul and I hadn’t spoken to each other … only to Ray as if the other wasn’t there.
 
I had to break through that first if I was going to have a chance at patching things back together.

It seemed like a very long time before I heard his boots come down the hall making no effort to be quiet.
 
He went straight to the shower.
 
The toilet seat slammed up loudly and eventually the medicine cabinet slammed shut.
 
When he came out he pulled the blankets back and dropped down hard on the bed laying down with his back to me.

“Paul …” I started quietly after a few minutes of silence.

He didn’t answer so I put my fingertips on his back.
 
He didn’t pull away though his muscles stiffened under my touch.

“I’m really here,” I whispered.

When he started to relax I traced around his shoulder blades, then up and down the middle of his back.
 
He tensed up again but I kept going, pressing more firmly as he relaxed.
 
His breathing slowed, deepened, his weight shifting slightly as more of him was drained of tension.
 
My hand pressed finding little knots and gently working them out.
 
He clung to the hurt I had caused like a shield to protect
himself
from any more.

“It won’t mean that you’re not still furious with me,” I whispered at his back.
 
“Or that you trust me again.
 
It won’t mean that you didn’t spend the last two months in hell wondering if I was alive or dead.
 
It won’t mean that what I did didn’t push you to the very edge.
 
It won’t get me out of hearing every angry word I have coming to me or the guilt and hard work to make things right again.”

I kept working his back but he didn’t say anything.

“It won’t mean that you’ve forgiven me,” I said quietly.
 
“Maybe I don’t deserve to ever feel you close to me again Paul … but you’re not the one who’s in the wrong here and that’s not what you deserve.

“No strings …

“I don’t believe there was a single night you didn’t need me here in your bed with you,” I told him.
 
“If I’m wrong just say so.
 
I’ll move to the room downstairs and won’t torment you like this again until you want me back.”

He said nothing so I quietly rolled over and sat on the edge of the bed.
 
I felt around with my feet for my clothes and found my pants.

“Would it have been better if I told you before I left?
 
Started a big fight … you never would have let me go.
 
I blew it before I was even out the door.”