Rocket Car

Chapter 17

Rocket Car

Davis approaches me as I'm sprawled out on the couch, contemplating whether I want to move or not. He notices that I'm awake and halts his approach. I turn to face him, exhausted. He smiles hesitantly at me. Behind his glasses I can see his eyes are cloudy; he has no idea what to say or do after all that's happened between us. His voice is warm when he says, "Hey. I hope you're feeling okay."

I'm not. My hands are throbbing and my foot is numb. Mentally I want to punch myself in the throat. Still, his smile is too comforting so I return the gesture and lie, "I'm better now." I sniff; I can smell something like garlic being fried up. I ask, "What's for lunch?"

I extend my hand to him. He seems confused by the gesture, and then he seems uncertain whether to come any closer. Building up enough courage to treat me the way he always has, he finally makes his way to the couch. Deftly his warm fingers wrap themselves around my wrist and he helps hoist me up. I'm unsteady on my one good foot. Instinctively he wraps one of my arms over his neck and helps guide me to the kitchen.

"We made some eggs, sausage, and Barry is frying up some potatoes with onion and garlic in butter," he answers. It sounds natural. Nothing forced or awkward about it. Thank god. I can't help but lean into him, the way I always have. He stiffens slightly at the sensation before relaxing again. It'll take a bit to get us back to normal. Assuming we can ever get back to normal.

Once in the kitchen Davis eases me into a chair at the small round table. By the time I'm situated Barry is placing a mouthwatering plate of breakfast food that has my stomach growling. I reach down for the fork only to find… well, my hand is bandaged. I can't grab anything. I go for it with my left hand only to remember both of my hands are out of commission.

I must have made a weird expression because Barry laughs. I frown at him. Life is going to be really awkward for me until the day these damn bandages come off. Even Davis smiles at the sight, but at least with him I can tell there's some compassion hidden in his face.

"Davis!" I whine, showing him both of my hands. I'm fairly sure I sounded like a needy five year old with that voice. Barry's laugh just grows louder; Davis's smile just grows bigger. Gently, he eases my bandaged hands down to my lap. I watch warily as his hand then goes to my fork, picks up a piece of egg, and then presents it near my mouth. I turn my head and say, "No."

Barry's laugh has turned into a quieted snicker. Davis laughs lightly, too. He puts the fork with myfood on it into his own mouth and enjoys the sweet nourishment that should've been mine. Now I'm pouting. He laughs again and says, "Don't be embarrassed. You'll just starve to death."

"Fine," I say defiantly. At this point, I'm just teasing him, which I'm sure he must know. Ever stubborn, he picks up another piece of egg and presents the fork to me again. I don't move.

"I can give it to you mouth to mouth if you want," Barry jokes.

Just to prove I'd rather not, I clamp down on the fork and rip it out of Davis's shocked hand. I manage to swallow the egg and not drop the fork, eventually presenting the utensil back to the still present hand of Davis. I see the blush on his cheeks, but try not to think about why he could be blushing. He's just a friend giving me a hand so I don't die, that's all.

Barry goes silent and I'm aware that my face is heating up, too. I am way too old to be blushing like a teenager over being fed. Despite the embarrassment, I allow Davis the opportunity to feed me. He doesn't have any straws, he admits with a small smile, so he'll have to hold my glass of juice for me when I drink. It's something I've never had to experience, but in some ways Davis is the one I'd trust the most in these kinds of situations.

Once I'm done, Davis takes his turn to eat. Barry finds that to be a prime time to start conversation. "I thought I'd ask Bryce to come down and give me a hand tonight, if you're alright with that," he tells Davis.

The sound of my brother's name lifts my spirits. I hadn't the chance to see him since I'd gotten home. It just simply hadn't worked out. Bryce is the kind of man that works two jobs just because. His salary at his main job was more than enough to get by, but he loved to work too much. On the rare occasion he had time off, he'd spend it working on some crazy project or side job to make more money. It meant there was rarely a moment when we could just catch up.

Davis swallows his food and nods. He says, "That sounds like a good idea. It's a bit of a drive so he can just stay here this weekend. Besides, at least with him around I know you can keep it in your pants."

There's a sinister smirk on Barry's face and instantly I can tell Davis regrets making that remark. "Only because it's his sister. Any idea how many girls we've double teamed?"

"Oh, gross! Stop! I don't want to hear anything about my brother's s*x life!" I cry out, both genuinely disgusted and also playing it up for laughs.

Davis is silent and focuses on his food. I know I don't want to ask why his entire face and neck have turned red. Barry laughs at both of our reactions. "I'm just kidding! Bryce has been too serious about girls since his last breakup!"

Oh, yes. I remember that. Unlike me, Bryce knows exactly what he wants from a significant other. He would never even think about marrying someone that didn't have a career and ambition to do more. She would need to focus on her job before all else. Unfortunately, his last girlfriend wanted to just be a housewife. After he paid her way through college she just sat around his house all day, doing mundane chores. Seven years of that and he kicked her out.

Damn, seven years. Imagine spending that much time with one person, just to end it in a conversation over dinner, like you merely mentioned the new shoes you bought weren't fitting right.

Davis wolfs down the rest of his plate and chugs a glass of milk in one gulp. He announces, "I have to get to work. Take it easy on her until Bryce gets here, would you?"

Barry winks at me and says, "I'm sure she'd prefer it rough."

Davis halts at the comment before moving about like he's innocent to what Barry was implying. As Barry stands to help Davis with the dishes, I announce, "I think I'm going to shower. Is it alright if I use your bathroom?"

"Darling you just spent a night in his sheets, he owes you that, at least," Barry says. I don't normally roll my eyes but I think I just did. Davis says nothing. Barry turns to me and asks rather seriously, "Do you need me to help you?"

"Um, no. I'll figure it out," I answer. I don't want to accidentally agree to something I'd certainly regret.

It's a bit of a pain to undress myself without fingers that move. All of the hassle is worth it, however, when I finally have the warm water on my sore body. It's been a hell of a week. I'm doing my best to ignore whatever anxiety I've built up.

I hear the door crack open. "Here's some fresh clothes I picked up at your place. I, uh, put your house key back with your other stuff," I hear Davis's voice say.

"Thanks," I offer.

There's a moment of silence. I can barely make out his silhouette beyond the shower curtain. I see his body retreat back to the door. Before he leaves, he calls out, "I hope you heal fast, honey. I love you."

He waits to hear if I say anything back. The sigh I make is overshadowed by the running water. "… I love you, too, Davis." He lightly closes the door after those words.

I really do. Perhaps not in the same way he loves me, or as deeply as I have loved others. It's like both Willie and Barry have said: there's different kinds of love. I won't deny that I care for Davis deeply. Perhaps that's why this entire ordeal is making me act and think like an angst-ridden teenager.

I stay in the shower until my fingers are wrinkled and I'm exhausted. There's no rush to anything I do as I tidy up, dry off, and dress myself in fresh clothing. I'm already feeling better just because I feel clean. Despite the lack of fingers I find that I'm quite capable.

When I emerge from the bathroom I discover that Bryce has already arrived. I'm guessing Barry got ahold of him before he even sought permission. At the sight of me he lights up. Before I can say a word he's giving me a strong hug and releases me.

"Why haven't you visited yet? I didn't even know you were back in state!" he says, his voice just as loud as always.

"Sorry," is my lame reply.

"I can't believe you hooked up with that lanky nerdy f**k Davis!" he says next. I frown at him, not willing to partake in any kidding around. It's going to be a long Saturday night if him and Barry start drinking.

July 1st, 2003

"Get off your ass and walk her to the door!"

Bryce had just popped his head out of the garage when he heard that distorted yell. A strange car had pulled up in their driveway, his little sister stepping out. A young man about his age followed; yelling at the younger boy in the backseat. Without saying a word, he watched as a short youngster got out of the car and led his sister to the front door. His eyes were sharp as he watched for anything inappropriate.

His feet had dragged him out of the garage and to the stranger and his car as he observed. Was this youngster with the dirtied baseball cap that was standing way too close to his baby sister some sort of boyfriend? No. She wasn't allowed to date without his approval. She was too young.

"If he does anything to upset her, just let me know," the young driver of the car said.

Bryce looked at this newcomer and gave him a once over. A bit scruffy, a bit rough around the edges. His hands were dirtied. Grease, grime, and dried blood covered his knuckles and fingers. His shirt was stained, his jeans had holes, and his boots looked worn. This stranger was a worker. Someone to be respected.

The stranger turned to Bryce, looked him dead in the eye, and with a low voice said, "Because if he hurts her, I'll kick his ass."

Bryce said nothing, just stared the man down, before he nodded in agreement.

"I'm Barnum," the stranger said, extending his hands.

"Goofy f*****g name," Bryce said. He accepted the gesture and discovered Barnum had a very firm and confident hand shake. "Name's Bryce."

July 13th, 2004

"You f*****g cocksucking, n****e biting fucktard."

Barry roared with laughter at the insult. Bryce always got way too angry playing video games. Sometimes he'd threaten to punch people, but would only break his control in frustration. Barry was much the opposite; nothing in a game had ever gotten him riled up. Of course, he wasn't as dedicated at his best friend. Not even close.

"s**t, s**t, s**t…"

Michael murmured under his breath next to him. The youngster claimed he was simply the best at first person shooters, but he was getting handed a new one. When an opponent managed to take him out with one shot, he was so downtrodden he failed to realize his character had respawned. It didn't take long until he was dead again.

Video games had somehow bridged the "generation gap" between them. Without fail they would arrive at Kristy and Bryce's parents' house once a week, each hauling in a console, TV, and Ethernet cable. With cable running from room to room over the entire house, it was kind of a tripping hazard if they weren't careful. Most nights they would play until sunrise, and sleep until mid-afternoon.

"Hey! Willie and Kristy are AFK!" Dee shouted loud enough for the entire house to hear. Indeed, their characters had sat at the spawn site, never moving an inch.

"I swear to God Waechter if you are touching my sister I'm kicking your ass!" Bryce screeched. Not even a second later and Willie's character was moving again. The sight caused Barry to burst into a fresh set of laughter.

"Besides you assholes are the reason we're losing!" Barry yelled, finally joining in on the fun ribbing.

"Blue team for the win!"

"Shut the f**k up, Juan!"

"Yeah, go back to Mexico!"

"I'm from Idaho, d**k!"

Everyone was laughing at Jeep's expense, but he got them back with a few well timed kills. It was crazy how messed up the outside world could be, yet all of them could get along just fine in that crowded house. Somehow, it was both exciting and comforting. Perhaps it was because Bryce and Barry were nearly adults that they desperately needed these kinds of nights.

The match was over, and as the group argued over which map to play next, Barry and Bryce relaxed quietly for a moment. A handful of Doritos was washed down by a gulp of Bawls energy by Barry as Bryce said, "You know that girl from chem? Brandi?"

Barry mulled the name for a moment before a face flashed in his mind. He whistled. "Oh, yeah. She's cute. What about her?" he asked. Bryce didn't need to say anything; his face said it all. The way his cheeks turned just a soft shade of pink, his eyes darkened, his brows furrowed. "Oh, damn you got it bad, huh?"

"Think we could make it work? As a real couple? Not this thing we've been doing?" Bryce asked. Never in his life would seek advice from anyone else. It wasn't as though the self-proclaimed "babe master Barry" was the best source for advice on real relationships; it just was he knew that Barry would be the most honest in his assessment.

A strong hand slapped Bryce's back. Embarrassed, he turned to face him. It was strange how they had just met a year ago but had become brothers so quickly. Sometimes, he wondered how they managed to make it work considering how different they could be. But then he would be reminded every time Barry smiled. He assured him, "Get it, dude. You're the most selfless guy I know. It's her loss if she says no."

October 31st, 2004

There was an old tradition in that little town. Every Halloween, all of that year's graduating seniors would go down to the riverside park and play a game of egg wars. Simply put, it meant buying dozens upon dozens of eggs and throwing them at your classmates. It was almost like a rite of passage. It was also dangerous; like teenagers do, some would freeze eggs and some would set up trip hazards. Bryce, Barnum, and three of their friends had been stocking up on eggs all month long, ready for the fight.

Then, two days before E-Day, their buddy Matt had broken his arm. Not wanting to make his injury even worse, they decided not to go. Yet they still had hundreds of eggs that needed to be wasted on something. After frying up, scrambling up, and devouring enough of them to make the group sick, they hit the road.

Before long, they ended up stopped on an overpass that overlooked a slow portion of highway that ran between farmlands. Each time a car would pass by, the five of them would drop eggs on top of it. No one really knows who idea it was that got them there. Bryce takes responsibility but Matt swears, "It was Barnum. Definitely Barnum. Only that dumbass could ever think of anything so blatantly stupid. I swear to all of Christ's disciples, why were we friends with him?"

It was good fun, until a state patrol car whizzed by. Like kids do, they weren't thinking of the consequences when they dropped five eggs. Apparently, one of them was a deadly frozen egg. One splattered on the windshield, two on the back windshield, and one missed completely. That frozen one? It hit the light bar.

Instantly the flash of lights and the whine of the trooper's siren cascaded down on them. Frozen in fear and wonder, the five boys were like statues in the night. The trooper was on the exit ramp and in their faces before they could even blink. Cuffed, they had to wait for a second patrol car to arrive in order to get them all to juvenile detention.

When Bryce made his lone call home and told his father with a shaking voice what had happened, his dad smiled and said, "Nice shot."

Barry? He never called home. Nope. He just pretended he never even once dared to touch an egg the entire night.

March 31st, 2014

It wasn't often that the two of them found time to go out drinking. Yet it isn't often that a relationship of seven years ends so abruptly. Brandi had been fun, Deija had been nice, but this last girl had stayed by his side for almost an entire decade. He'd done a lot for her, more than he had done for himself in recent years. Yet he had taken it all in stride. In fact, it wasn't even his idea to go out and get drunk. It was Barry's. It was always Barry's idea.

Barry had sworn that the best way to get him over his breakup was for the two of them to "girl prowl" like old times. Bryce was out of practice and Barry had probably played his hand too many times in that small town. Still, it was worth a shot. Anything was better than staying in all night. Who cares if it was Monday?

They had been eyeing a couple of college-aged girls sitting alone at the bar when a strong hand clamped itself down on Barry's shoulder. Irritated, Barry looked up to find himself being glared at by an older gentleman. Cowboy hat, bushy mustache, and a rodeo belt buckle… it wasn't exactly the kind of man Barry or Bryce wanted to mess around with.

"Can I help you?" Barry asked, his voice strained.

Bryce, ever alert, took in their surroundings. This cowboy wasn't the only person watching them. A few younger men were making their approach. They'd already downed a few drinks, so if these guys were looking for trouble, it might end up as trouble for everyone.

"You messed around with the wrong boy's old lady, buddy!" one of the younger men shouted.

That was it. A sucker punch to the side of Barry's head laid him flat on the ground. Bryce was on his feet in an instant and all hell broke loose. It was the cowboys versus the good ol' boys club; a divided bar on a dirtied backroad in a small country town. Everyone picked a side. Those that had played ball with Bryce or Barnum, had ever thrown a drink back with them, or had ever gone a round with them were instantly at Barry's side.

Yet those that knew of their reputation and hated them for it found it a good moment to let fists fly. It turns out there was certainly a lot of those around. Despite the bartender waving a shotgun around and firing a few rounds into the ceiling, nothing ceased. It didn't matter how many drinks were knocked over, chairs were thrown, or bottles were broken. Someone had to end up dead.

Bryce was a well-built man. In high school, he was tested for taking steroids because he built muscle that fast. He'd honed his body as a football player and through boxing. By no means was he the greatest fighter, but he was intimidating enough and powerful enough that few messed with him. This meant poor Barry was the focus of most hits.

When Bryce fought off his would-be attackers, he next went to take on those that were after his best friend. A few solid hits at a few heads freed his buddy. Everything was going fine, until a strong kick to his chest sent him to his knees.

Instantly his hand was at his chest. Pain seared throughout his body. Dizziness swept over him. Vomit threatened to come next. Everything around him was spinning. Was he even breathing anymore?

"Everyone get the f**k down! Get down!"

That was the sound of a dozen deputies breaking the fight up. It was a hell of a barroom brawl, and a hell of a legend came out the next day. "You hear? Bryce and that boy Barnum took down the entire Darby clan while drunk!" From that moment on, no one dared to cross either.

The next day, on April 1st, Kristy had to convince her boss, "No, it's not an April Fool's joke! My brother is in the hospital!" It took quite a lengthy conversation before she told them to f**k off and left. On the drive to the airport, she wondered if maybe it was really just an April Fool's joke.