Surge (77 page)

“Really? You’re not just saying that to not hurt my feelings?” I ask and she motions that it’s really good. “Thank god, Whitney supervised, but I did all the steps. I wanted to make sure that you could handle it, but not have to eat something as insignificant as plain old broth.”

“Kiss ass,” Cory mutters. I pay him no mind, since I couldn’t care less what he thinks, so long as Olivia’s eating.

“Hey, I helped too,” John says with a pout. Olivia pats his hand in thanks, so John smirks at me. Please, a hand pat isn’t going to tip my scales when I get to cuddle her all night.

“You passed me ingredients,” I counter.

“It’s still helping,” John retorts.

“Whatever,” I say and wave him off. “Eat as much as you can, but don’t force it, alright?” Olivia nods. “I was planning on stopping by Tommy’s room to check on him. You want me to pass anything on?” Olivia opens her mouth to try and answer.

“I..s-s-ee him,” she replies. It sounds awkward and breathless, but it’s still understandable.

“Are you sure?” I ask and she nods. “You want me to wait and go with you?”

Olivia scowls since I’ve been asking this same question every time she goes to see Tommy, and every time it’s the same answer,
‘She wants to go alone because he can talk easier without the pressure of so many people.’
Just like she motions out now.

“Fine, but I’ll still go see him now while you’re eating,” I say and she shrugs. Giving her free hand that’s not holding the spoon a squeeze, I nod at John and Cory before leaving the room.

Walking down the hall, I think of my previous trips to see Tommy. I highly doubt he’ll talk to me today, but I’ve been going in once daily, even if it’s for three minutes to see how he’s doing. He’s quiet, and basically lays on the bed and stares at the ceiling, so after sitting in the chair and talking to myself for a few minutes, I leave. At least I’m making the effort, and maybe someday my efforts will be rewarded with him saying a word, even a finger flipping me off as a response would make me happy at this point, because as it stands; I don’t feel comfortable taking him out of this house.

Tommy’s severely depressed and I don’t think that he cares much for life right now, so if we’re out in the open, he’ll probably sit on the ground and wait for death. I’ve even taken his weapons, not that he cared since he hasn’t moved from the bed, but I took them just in case he got any ideas. I wonder if Olivia gets any type of response out of him, I’ll have to ask her later, since I’ve arrived at the door to his room. I knock lightly and as usual, don’t hear a response, so I just walk in.

“Hey, Tommy,” I say to his still form curled in a blanket, when it’s freaking 80 degrees, and facing the opposite wall from the window. I don’t receive a greeting, not that I was expecting one, but I wait for it anyway in hopes that today will be the day he finally talks. No dice. “It’s pretty freaking hot in here today, don’t you think?”

Walking over to the window, I pull the shades out of the way and open the window. Fresh air and sunlight stream in, all without so much as a peep from Tommy. At least he changed up his position a little today, I mean, he’s staring at the wall as opposed to the ceiling, so that has to be some kind of improvement, right? Turning away from the refreshing breeze sweeping through the window, I take up my normal chair at the foot of the bed.

“So, the guys found a town down the road,” I begin. “Lots of food that should last us a while. I know you must be hungry, since I don’t think you’ve eaten a much in the last few days.” That’s an understatement; he hasn’t a single bite of the food Whitney’s brought up to him three times a day. The current tray has a bowl of the unmashed soup we made, so it’s fresh and still full to the rim. Even his water sits untouched on the nightstand beside the bed.

“I made that soup with Whitney about an hour ago, so it’s pretty fresh,” I say. Nothing. Not a sigh, or sniff of distaste, absolutely nothing. “It even tastes alright, so you won’t have to worry about food poisoning like when Kelly cooked.”

Since I’m getting absolutely nowhere, I wrack my brain for something that will spark some life in him. Obviously, I can’t talk about Leonard since his death is what put Tommy in this catatonic state to begin with. I can’t talk about Marissa or Chelsea either. John’s off the table since I’m not sure where Tommy stands with his current thoughts about my best friend. I’m hoping that he’ll eventually see that John wasn’t at fault for what happened, but it’s not like I’ve ever experienced something like this myself; so I don’t know how I’d feel if I were in Tommy’s shoes. And I’ve never had to watch someone I love be killed in front of me, but Cory has, as well as Olivia.

Bingo. That’s my saving grace right there. I clear my throat and give it a shot.

“I don’t know if you heard about Olivia’s surgery today,” I inform him. Not even a blanket rustle at that. “Maybe she told you about it herself, but it’s done.”

“S-she okay?” Success! It’s nothing more than a stuttered whisper, but it’s like he screamed it after four days of silence.

“She might be,” I say.

I purposely leave it vague in hopes that he’ll take a bite and talk some more. The quilt shifts a little at the foot of the bed, but still I remain silent. One socked foot pokes out from the edge of the blanket, and still I don’t speak. Finally fed up, Tommy rips the quilt off his head and sits up to glare at me with his hair sticking up in six different directions for the worst case of bed head; or best if that’s the look he was going for. But his hair would’ve had to have been clean for him to pull it off, which it most certainly is not after almost a week without bathing.

“W-well?” Tommy demands.

“Why don’t you come look for yourself?” I propose. “I might not be the best judge of her condition, since I’m not a professional, but you might. Olivia said you’re pretty smart, and you’ve been reading up on all of those medical journals, so you could probably tell better than I could.”

“O-okay,” he replies.

Carefully pulling the blanket off of himself, Tommy slides to the edge of the bed. He’s still wearing the same outfit as the one he had on the day Lenny died. There’s even dried blood covering his shirt and jeans, but I’m not sure from which source, probably a combination of Marissa’s, Lenny’s and the wheezer he battled; since some of it is black. Tommy stands and almost topples over on his misused legs; that haven’t seen the floor other than to use the restroom attached to the room, protest the unfamiliar movement. I don’t believe the water works up here other than in the master where Olivia and I are staying, so what the hell has he been doing if the toilet doesn’t flush? I don’t think I wanna know. After falling back on his ass, Tommy uses his weak arms to try and push himself up unsuccessfully.

“Here, let me help,” I stand up and walk over to him on the floor. I ignore the stench coming off of him, a mixture of unwashed body, sweat and rust; as I offer him my hand. Tommy grips it weakly, but strengthens it enough for me to pull him to his feet. He stumbles a bit, so I steady him with a hand to his shoulder. “Maybe we should feed you first so that you can make it to Olivia’s room without passing out? Then you’d miss your chance to see her while she’s awake, but if you eat, I’m sure you could make it. How does that sound?”

Tommy eyes the bowl of soup with some hunger shining in his eyes. If I hadn’t eaten so long as he has, I would have probably licked the tray clean and consumed the bowl, glass and all. Giving me a slight nod, he sits back on the bed and I pass him the tray when his trembling hands can’t manage to pick it up. I resume my seat as Tommy picks up his spoon and begins eating. Or attempts eating, since his hand shakes the entire way toward his mouth with a spoonful of soup, so by the time it reaches his lips; it’s only a quarter of what it was when he first scooped it from the bowl. He continues the shaky process of eating, with his hands getting marginally better with each bite.

No, one bowl of soup will not rebuild whatever muscle atrophy he suffered over a four day period of starvation and inactivity, but it’s a start. Another start, is to get him to bathe. Ever since the blanket came off, I can smell him reeking from here, and it’s making my eyes water a little. I don’t know how Olivia sat in here for two hours, sometimes longer, when he smelt like this.

Then I remember that she hasn’t been able to smell at all since the tracheostomy tube went in. She told me that tidbit when I asked her if she could smell her apple shampoo on me, and she answered that I smell like nothing. I pressed saying that she complained about her own hair smelling like smoke, but she said that she just wanted it clean since it was greasy, she didn’t know that it smelt of her close brush with death by fire.

Seeing Tommy now lift the bowl to drain the liquid, I can tell that he’s still hungry, but I don’t want him overdoing it. I know that if he gorges himself so soon after having an empty stomach for so long, he’ll just puke it all back up, so I make note to monitor his intake. Setting the empty bowl down, he snatches up the water bottle, tips it back and guzzles that too. I hear the crack of the plastic as he inhales the water without pausing to take a breath.

“Slow down, you’re gonna make yourself sick.” Tommy immediately tilts the water down, and removes it from his mouth. Swiping a dirty sleeve across his chin, he leaves a smear of now wet filth across his stubbled cheek. When it reaches his nose, I see Tommy grimace and pull it away, glaring at the offending fabric.

“Yeah, you may want a bath too,” I suggest. Tommy’s eyes snap to mine, and he gives me a firm nod. “I have clothes if you need them, you’re about the same size as me, but the pants may be a little long for you.”

“W-Whit gave me s-some,” he replies. I nod.

“Okay, let me go check if this bathroom works.” When I move to check the plumbing, I see him hold up his thumb. “You know it works?” Tommy nods again. “Alright, I’ll go tell Olivia to wait up for you so you can clean yourself up.”

“T-thanks,” Tommy says quietly.

“Don’t mention it, just make sure you clean up quickly,” I tell him. “Because she should be resting.”

Tommy nods as he sets the tray back on the nightstand. I make sure he can stand on his own, before exiting the room. Walking back down the hall, I grin at my breakthrough. All it did was take a mention of Olivia’s name to spark his interest in life again. Leonard was right, Tommy did need someone to connect with, and she was just the person to do it.

Reaching the master, I see that the door’s propped open with her soda can, meaning that she has visitors other than Cory. I’ve noticed that she uses it if there are more than one male in the room, or if Cory, nor I are not present in the room. Seeing that it’s in place, it tells me either Cory isn’t currently bed hogging, or there a few people visiting that I need to clear out for Tommy to make a comfortable appearance. I know that he wants to see her, but I doubt he wants to be pestered by seven other people all at the same time. I’m trying to drag him out bed, not force him back into hibernation.

Grabbing the can from the corner of the door frame, I push the door wider and enter; leaving it wide open. I see that my assumption was correct this time, since not only is Cory not in here, but there are four guys in the room. These include John, the twins and Danny. Sarah’s also here, as is Morris; who’s currently sitting on Olivia’s lap. Olivia looks comfortable with the crew surrounding her, smiling and happy even, so I know that the can is merely a safety blanket that she uses, like the leather jacket she’s slipped over my t-shirt. I bet her ace bandages are back to binding her breasts, too, because it’s zipped up tight.

“You might be having another visitor today.” Six pairs of eyes turn to observe me. “But I think he’d be far more likely to show if this room cleared out within the next ten minutes.”

“Who is this surprise guest exactly?” Carlos asks suspiciously.

“And why does he want to kick us out?” Oscar asks with an equal amount of suspicion as his twin.

“Never you mind,” I reply. “But I know for a fact that he won’t show if there’s a friggin crowd of people smothering the place.” Olivia tilts her head slightly as she observes me, then she motions out her sign for
‘Tommy,’
which is a frowny face accompanied by a hammer. I nod in answer and she flashes me a smile. “So, scram, the whole lot of you. Visiting hours are officially over.”

Five grumbling people, and a hissing tabby, make their exit. I make sure the door’s open so that Tommy can come in if he decides to come, which I’m hoping he does, before I go hop up onto the bed with Olivia. I tuck my arms behind my head in a casual pose, all the while pretending that Olivia isn’t staring at me expectantly. I can see her start to fidget, since she’s no more patient than I am. It begins with wiggling her cute little toes, then it works its way up to crossing and uncrossing her legs.

Finally, she huffs and smacks me across the chest when I laugh at her. I capture her hand, which hasn’t been gloved since I took it off of her three days ago. I don’t know if it’s because I told her to stop hiding from me, or if she doesn’t want them to hold power over her anymore; regardless of the cause, I like it. Olivia’s refusal to hide the scars on her wrists, shows that she’s accepted what happened to her, and is starting to take strength from it. Rome wasn’t built in a day, so I know it won’t be an instant process, but at least it’s a step in the right direction.

Lacing my fingers through hers, I keep her hand captive on my chest. Olivia gives it a weak tug, but gives up when I don’t budge. Using her right hand, she turns my chin to look at her. When my eyes meet hers, she mouths and motions out,
‘How’d you get him to talk?’
I give her a cocky grin and point to my mouth, to which she rolls her eyes.
‘I know you’re Mouth, but how did you get him to talk to you? What did you talk about? When is he coming?...’
I didn’t know that it was physically possible to ramble without speaking, but Olivia managed it. I point one finger at her in answer, making her give me a confused look.

“Tommy wanted to know about how your surgery went, and I gave him a vague answer,” I tell her. “So, he decided to come check on you himself.” Olivia taps her fingers at me in a naughty gesture, but she’s grinning. “He should be here any second now.” She immediately trains her eyes to the door. “Damn, I didn’t think I was so bad of company, that you can’t wait for me to the get the hell out.” I’m not really offended, and when Olivia’s head whips in my direction to deny my claim, she sees my smirk and squeezes our laced fingers tightly. “My burns!”