There's A Place For Us

Chapter 6:Timothy

I woke up Sunday morning, Hugo was eating a bowl of cereal. He seemed to have become comfortable as a resident in my apartment. I noticed quickly he was dressed for outside weather.

“Going out?” I asked.

He looked down at his outfit.

“I’ll be back later,” he replied quietly as if I were going to object.

“Right,” I acknowledged.

Did he feel uncomfortable here? Had he picked up on it? I decided not to push the issue, maybe he just needed space, he wasn’t use to being surrounded by four walls or being around anyone twenty-four-seven.

He packed some food into his bag but left behind some of the pants he had bought, if he wanted to leave without me knowing he probably would have packed them. I saw him pause at the door and look back.

“See you later,” he called before opening the door.

“See you,” I replied.

The door open and squealed shut. I just sat there. I was supposed to be studying for my mid-term on Tuesday for one of the tougher classes that involved a lot of memorization. I hadn’t done any of that and personally, I couldn’t focus. My head was going a million miles an hour trying to outrun a headache I had. I didn’t want to read over things I wasn’t interested, it honestly wouldn’t help. Reading, in general, would have just made it worse. I threw on my headphones to distract myself and started doing chores, my own laundry, the dishes, dusting, organizing my apartment. I become fed up with it all soon and laid down. I tried to focus on the music to distract myself and tried to sleep. I drifted in between waking and sleeping.

I thought about Hugo a lot. I wondered when he was coming back. Soon the headache turned to nausea and I sat outside the washroom so I didn’t have to go far if the nausea turned to something physical. I hoped I could outrun whatever this was till Tuesday. I could catch up on notes, a test worth thirty percent of my grade was harder to replace.

Hugo stumbled back in at mid-afternoon to find me still on the floor.

“You okay?” he asked looking me over.

I resisted blushing and shivering.

“I don’t feel good,” I reply.

“Do you need anything?” he asked afterward.

His face was red from the cold outside.

“Um, there’s a ginger ale in the fridge, I should get some sugar in me. I haven’t eaten all day,” I mutter.

He removes his shoes, places his bag down and goes to the fridge. He finds the ginger ale and brings it back to me. I accept it gratefully. I open it slowly and let the fizz settle before taking a sip. It goes down fine. I set it aside and lay my head back against the wall.

Hugo watches me seeming a little lost. He kneels down and leans a hand on the wall and touches my forehead with the other.

“You’re warm,” he mutters. “Do you have a thermometer?”

“In the bathroom, in the cupboard,” I reply pointing behind me.

He gets up and goes into the bathroom to look.

So, much for outrunning the sickness.

“I can’t get sick,” I mutter. “I have a test.”

“Well, I’m no expert but I’m pretty sure a temperature of a hundred and one is sick,” he replies showing me the thermometer.

The test just had to be this week. I could have missed all my lectures and got the notes online and just gone in for my three-hour lab on Tuesday but no, now I had to go in for my mid-term, too.

“You should lie down,” Hugo replied. “Get some rest.”

“Do you need help?” he asked.

“Yeah, thanks,” I replied taking his hand to stand.

My stomach twisted. I paused before taking a step towards the bathroom. I paused again holding my hand over my mouth. Hugo waited. It passed and I slowly walked over to the couch with Hugo’s aid. I laid down and Hugo carried my ginger ale over and placed it on the table. He disappeared, came back with a cool washcloth and placed it on my forehead.

“Thanks,” I mutter.

He smiled at me before looking away quickly. I loved that smile.

“Do you want me to make you soup?” he asked.

“No, no,” I mutter.

“Do you want me to go get you some cold medicine? Or do you have any?” he questioned.

I didn’t want him to leave even if it was to help me feel better.

“No, no, just…” I paused, I didn’t want to sound desperate.

I was hoping he’d pass it off as part of the sickness haze.

“Just…stay here,” I muttered in an impossibly quiet tone.

I wait to see if he backed away but he simply sat there. I wished he’d hold my hand but I knew that would be too much. I laid back and closed my eyes, trying to rest. I heard Hugo moving around but I kept my eyes shut and my breath steady.

I felt the cloth get removed hours later and his hand touch my forehead. He must have found it still warm and placed the cloth back on the forehead. I felt my hand lift off my chest, I wasn’t sure if he was checking my pulse or what. His hand felt rough from his time on the street, it was larger than mine and encased it. I wanted him to hold it forever, but eventually, I felt him let go and move away. I heard him lay on the other couch. Eventually, I did fall asleep. The next morning, I was worse.

I woke and felt the coolness of the cloth on my forehead. Hugo must have exchanged it for a new one multiple times throughout the night. That must have meant he’d been up multiple times throughout the night, too. I still felt nauseous and warm. The sun was rising which meant I was also late for class. Not that I cared right at this moment. I was staying here, for today and right now at least. Maybe later I’d go online and copy down the notes from the lecture I was going to miss at eleven.

I realized Hugo wasn’t around, he must have gone out again. I rolled over and closed my eyes and tried to go back to sleep. The racing of nearby cars was usual but I found it annoying for once. I wished I knew where Hugo went, not that it was any of my business, I offered him a place and the freedom to come and go. If he was normal, he’d come and go more often. I decided to move from the couch to the bed to get away from the traffic noises, I checked the medicine cabinet for cold medicine but there was none. I thought about going out but if I left and locked the door Hugo would have no way of getting back in.

I wasn’t sure I trusted him with a key, yet, even though, what was he going to honestly do? He had no place to store my valuables till he could sell them and if he had any idea how the police worked pawn shops would be tracked and monitored.

I buried myself in the sheets and pillows and drifted off to dreamland. I woke to Hugo knocking on my bedroom door.

“Come in,” I muttered.

Any normal person would have just come in instead of knocking, I didn’t know why I was complaining, at least he had the courtesy to knock.

“Timothy? Are you feeling any better? I went out and bought you medicine,” he started.

I lifted my head to look up at him. The hall light was bright after being in the dark for hours. I squinted, my eyes adjusted. I wish I had a boyfriend to comfort me then. Fawn over me. Where was my head? I hope I was in the right mindset for my test tomorrow. I realized I didn’t answer his questions then.

“Not great,” I replied laying my head back down. “Could you get my computer?”

“Sure,” he turned back around and came back with the laptop.

He placed it on the bed and I pulled it closer, logged in and went online to download the powerpoint notes to copy.

“What did you do today?” I asked.

I pulled up Word and began reading over the slides. He sat on the end of the bed, he seemed curious about the mess that was my room.

“Sorry, about the mess,” I comment.

“I don’t care about the mess,” he replied.

I realized he probably didn’t give a damn about the mess. He was appreciating the warm dark place I had to live. I wanted to hug him and tell him everything would be alright, he could stay here as long as he needed to. Again though, it wasn’t realistic and I didn’t want to give him false hope. He leaned back onto the bed, his elbow touched my side, I slid away before he could notice.

I don’t know if I’d ever wish homelessness on anyone, maybe I just wouldn’t because I liked Hugo and knew that at sixteen he shouldn’t have been on the street.

“Do you have any siblings?” he asked.

“No,” I replied.

“Me, neither,” he continued.

“I think that’s obvious. You wouldn’t be here if you did,” I replied.

“Why did you get kicked out of foster care?” I questioned.

He took a breath and had a look far off in the distance.

“It was stupid. So, stupid. What they did was illegal. Kids are supposed to trust them and a foster kid’s trust is already so broken from being moved around so much and having no permanence anywhere…” he paused. “There, ah, was this other foster kid, they’d adopted him two years ago, he was…just a jerk. He was a little older and because he’d been around for longer they trusted him. I was just the kid who was dropped there in the middle of the night. Emergency placement. He, uh…” he paused swallowing.

His eyes glossed over. He turned away and wiped his face.

“He came into my room one night and he…” he took another breath. “He r***d me.” He mumbled the last part.

“I tried to tell them but he said I was lying, that I had done it to him. I was a little bit glad when they kicked me out because at least I didn’t have to see him again or experience that again. What I do regret is not getting anybody to believe me, he could go do that to other people. If he gets smart, he’ll drug them, kidnap them,” he continued.

“You didn’t go to the police?” I asked quietly.

“Kids do all sorts of things for attention, especially foster kids. If my own foster parents didn’t believe me, why would they?” he responds.

I understood I guess, but wasn’t it their obligation to investigate? Do a r**e kit or something? I guess I’d have to be careful in the future with my feeling if I ever did confess. I sat up and gently put an arm around his shoulders.

“He won’t hurt you again,” I whisper quietly.

He rested his head on my chest. We sat like that for a while till he calmed down.

“I’ll be right back,” I whispered slipping away to pack my bag for tomorrow since I’d be out till late.

That guy, who did that to him was a monster. He lost his parents, his dignity and his trust in those who should have been there for him when he needed them. I kept thinking about how many people had come before him or after him, how many people had been violated by this guy all to satisfy some sick need. All because nobody believed the victims. Because somehow this guy had acquired a picture-perfect image and a whole lot of faith and trust from others.

I went back into the room and he was curled on his side in the fetal position. He looked so vulnerable. So, broken. He wasn’t a burden one bit, he needed help. He deserved help. I wish I knew how to help him. I could go to the cops with what he told me but I didn’t have names. Not the name of the family he’d been with, not the name of the guy who’d done this and not his last name. There was no way they could do an investigation with what little information I had and I doubted he’d just readily give me all the information.

“It’s late, and you weren’t feeling well, you should get sleep,” he says quietly sitting up.

I hadn’t thought about how I was feeling once since he came in here. This wasn’t about me anymore, or what I felt or needed or wanted, it was about him.

“No, no, it’s fine,” I replied moving to prevent him from getting up.

“I’ll sleep on the couch, tonight,” I continued.

“You need a good night’s rest to get better,” he goes on.

“Hugo, I’ll be fine. I promise it’s fine. Just rest, okay?” I reply.

He looked at me. Something flashed across his face. Fear, maybe?

“Don’t go,” he mumbled looking away.

“I’ll be right outside,” I reminded him.

He grabbed my wrist.

“Please,” he whispered.

“Okay, okay,” I replied sitting back down beside him.

That was one of the first many nights we slept side by side in the same bed. There was nothing romantic about it, it was to keep the monster out, away, from invading Hugo’s personal space and his dreams. I thought he’d want me as far away as possible, maybe he sensed that whatever that guy did, I would never do.