Rough Around the Edges (11 page)

Outside, the night had grown colder. Or maybe he’d just finally cooled down after the fights. Either way, its chill slipped under his jacket as he and Ally crossed the parking lot. He didn’t dare touch her, to offer warmth or to take it. If he did, she’d feel his hands shaking.

He unlocked the car with the press of a button. When he reached for the driver’s side door, the asphalt seemed to sway beneath him. He braced himself with a hand against the Mustang as the wave of vertigo passed over him, leaving him nauseous again in its wake.

“Are you okay?” Ally was on the other side of the car, but her voice sounded like it was coming from a million miles away. “I mean, do you think you should drive?”

“I’ll be all right.” He pulled himself together and opened the door.

As he slid into his seat, he realized he’d forgotten to open Ally’s door for her. She’d done it herself and was regarding him carefully from across the console.

When he raised his keys they clashed against each other, jangling. He cursed the sound inside his head as he tried to slide the right key into the ignition. It scraped and scratched against the metal that surrounded the keyhole, refusing to go in.
Fuck
.

He didn’t see Ally move, didn’t realize she was reaching for him until she touched him – damn the silver lights floating in front of his eyes.

“Your hands are shaking.” She gripped his hand in a hold that was somewhere between gentle and firm. “Maybe you should just sit back and rest for a minute.”

He was caught somewhere between sick dread and anger – not at her, but at himself. Each time the key scraped against the metal instead of sliding into the ignition, his ire spiked, along with the pain inside his head.

Finally, the key slid in.

He let his hand fall into his lap. How was it that he’d felt fine after three fights, but putting the key into his car’s ignition had left him feeling exhausted?

“Maybe I should call a cab.” She was still touching him, her fingers warm and tangled with his.

“Can’t leave my car here.” If he did, he’d probably return the next day to find the windows shattered and the stereo gone, at the very least. “I don’t want anything to happen to it, and I can’t afford for it to be towed.” He bit down on nothing as his head throbbed with a particularly potent wave of pain.

“I’ll drive to your place, then. I can’t just sit here and watch you suffer.”

“You know how to drive a stick-shift?”

“My father taught me years ago.”

His natural instinct was to refuse, to insist he could drive, that she didn’t need to worry about anything. But pain overrode instinct and even he knew that was bullshit. The sound of crunching metal and skidding tires echoed in his mind, so loud he would’ve thought he’d wrecked again if he’d been driving.

But the car was still and silent in the parking lot, the key in the ignition but not turned.

He couldn’t risk her safety, and damn it, what other choice was there? “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure. Switch seats with me.”

Chapter 6

He stumbled when he stepped out of the Mustang. Steadying himself with a hand against the door, he swore.  Not out loud – that only would’ve called attention to the fact that he couldn’t even walk steadily around his own fucking car, let alone drive it. It was bad enough that she was driving; she didn’t need to know how relieved he was that she’d slipped behind the wheel.

“Do you have a license?” The question was an afterthought, really. He pulled the door shut and sank against the passenger seat like every bone in his body had liquefied. How long had it been since he’d ridden in the passenger seat? Had he ever?

“No,” Ally said.

“Well, don’t speed.”

She turned the key in the ignition, bringing the car to life.

The entire vehicle vibrated with an aura of power. She’d driven a stick before, but the Mustang was bound to be a different experience than whatever vehicle she’d learned in. A pang of worry hit him, but it was nothing compared to the avalanche of guilt that buried him whenever he considered what might happen if he tried to drive her home himself.

She’d be better off driving, for sure.

“I’ll be careful. Your place isn’t too far from here, is it?”

“It’s about a ten minute drive. I like coming here because it’s close.”

“Just tell me where to go.”

“Take a right when you leave the parking lot.” He closed his eyes, shutting out the glare of streetlights for a few brief seconds. Normally, their illumination wasn’t overwhelming. But he was anything but normal as he rode in the passenger seat, mentally mapping the route to his apartment. He’d been to the diner so many times he knew every street, every turn. He could handle giving her directions, at least. It was a pitiful contribution, and one he had to focus his every thought on in order to carry out.

She’d barely made it out of the parking lot when a loud grinding sound rent the air as she switched gears while increasing speed. “Sorry,” she breathed. “It’s okay – I’ve got it now.”

She sounded a little pissed at herself. He could relate to that. And he couldn’t be mad at her for the small mistake when she was doing him a favor, when he’d been fucking up ever since he’d stepped out of the ring that night. Her driving was a little rough, but that was nothing.

The ten minute trip to his apartment seemed to take three times that, at least. He forced himself to keep his eyes open. Sometimes, they were so dry it hurt. Other times, they watered from the pain. “Turn here. It’s the building on the left.”

She slowed in front of the four-story brick apartment building and pulled into one of the spaces, parking slowly – so slowly he wanted to jump out and run inside, where he could hurt without being on display. He would’ve fallen flat on his face though, and besides, he still had to make sure she got home – he could call a cab and give her some cash for the fare. It was the least he could do.

They both stepped out of the car – miracle of miracles, he managed to stay steady on his feet – and she pressed his keys back into his hand.

“Which apartment is yours?”

He locked the car with the push of a button. “Top floor, farthest to the left.”

Four flights of stairs stretched between the street and his apartment door. Normally, it didn’t seem like much to climb, but now…

“Is it all right if I come inside? I’ll have to call a cab.”

“Of course.” It wasn’t like he’d leave her out on the street. But inside…

He’d never taken a cab in Baltimore. Suddenly, he wished he had, wished he was familiar with the city’s cab companies so he could be sure to call the fastest one. Any other time, he would’ve loved the idea of her inside his apartment. As he stood steeling himself for the climb up the stairs, it seemed like her presence there would be a death-blow to what was left of his pride.

They climbed the steps in silence.

He made it to the top without stumbling, tripping or puking – a pretty fucking huge accomplishment.

He managed to unlock his unit, 401, and then to lock the deadbolt again after they both made it through the door.

Inside, the place was practically bare. Just an open dinette kitchen and living room, plus the closed doors that led to the bedroom and bathroom. A couch and a small table with chairs were the only visible furniture. Aware that she had to be watching him because there was nothing else to look at, he made his way to the kitchen and opened the cabinet above the sink.

The rattle of the pill bottle in his hand was a sound of pure relief. Or at least, he hoped so. God, he fucking hoped so as he pulled a glass from the cabinet, filled it at the sink’s faucet and then struggled with the bottle’s childproof cap.

When he had two pills in hand, he took them immediately, washing them down with a mouthful of tap water.

He didn’t even feel the tumbler slip out of his hand. One minute his drinking was the only noise, and then the sound of shattering glass was coming from somewhere around his feet.

When he looked down, everything was silver. Pieces of broken glass and lights that weren’t really there – he could hardly tell the difference. “Damn.”

Ally rushed into the kitchen before he could so much as blink. “Let me get that. Do you have a dustpan?”

Just hearing and seeing her move so quickly made him dizzy. He gripped the counter for support. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll clean it up later.”

She moved closer to him, hovering at the edge of the mess that had been his drinking glass.
“Why don’t you go sit down on the couch? I’ve got this.”

A part of him wanted nothing more than to sink down onto the couch. That part won out after a few dizzying moments that threatened to bring him to his knees. Anything would be better than collapsing in front of Ally in a pile of broken glass – even letting her sweep it up.

She was supposed to be his date, not a maid. He wasn’t sure if he said it out loud or only thought it as he headed to the couch. He collapsed onto it, letting his head tip way back against the cushion.

Surrendering his last shred of dignity had never felt so good. The pain in his head didn’t subside, but all the tension went out of his limbs and spine, leaving him incapable of any major movement. The deceptively soft sounds of glass being swept up came from the kitchen, the soundtrack to his shame as he surrendered to the small comfort of the blackness beneath his eyelids, letting them shield him from sight, which had become a burden.

After a while, Ally called out from the kitchen. She was talking to him, that much was obvious, but it was impossible to make out what she was saying; her words jumbled together and blurred, mostly indistinguishable. He caught the word ‘glass’, though. Was she pissed at having to clean up after him, after all?

The thought troubled him, but there was no way to show that he cared. He tried to thank her, but his voice was nowhere to be found.

Later. He’d thank her later. At the moment, conversation was only a dream, not a real possibility. There was only the darkness behind his eyelids and the pain inside his skull.

* * * * *

He didn’t wake up. Not really. What he did felt more like struggling through dark water, breaking the surface only to find that the air above was still cold and inhospitable. He’d never been asleep, only lost inside the void his mind became when the physical agony went beyond the icepick-through-the-skull level of pain and became … just too much.

There was a difference, though. Silver lights still clouded his vision, and his head still hurt, but there was a small sense of pleasure that accompanied the pain. Ally was holding his hand. She sat beside him on the couch and her fingers were entwined with his.

How long had he been ignoring her? Obviously not very long if her cab hadn’t even arrived yet.

“Sorry. I didn’t know – I mean, I can’t predict when this is going to happen.” He motioned toward his head, hating the way his words came out sounding slightly slurred.

“Don’t worry about it. Like I said, my aunt gets migraines – I know they’re unpredictable and can be intense.” She met his gaze and kept her fingers tangled with his.

There was no point in pulling away, not after everything she’d witnessed already. Besides, he didn’t want to. Her touch felt so good he was almost ashamed of how much he liked it. He nodded and immediately regretted it as the pain in his head flared, defying him to move again.

“I’ll be right back. I’m just going to use your restroom if that’s okay.” She let go of his hand and stood.

His head was too heavy and the memory of the pain caused by simply nodding was too fresh for him to watch her walk across the living room.

When the sound of the bathroom door being closed came, he mustered up the last of his dwindling supply of willpower and rose – slowly, painfully and barely. For at least thirty seconds, he stood leaning heavily on the couch, trying to get enough of a grasp on his equilibrium to walk.