Rocket Car

Chapter 15

Author's Note: Sometimes you don't realize how important a person is until you're high on painkillers. Also: it takes a special kind of awesome to cut both hands accidentally hitting a picture frame. Good times.

Rocket Car

Well nothing ever lasts, don't waste your life by living in the past; And raise your glasses to the sky, f**k yeah we had good times…

Whoever has headphones in has their music up way too loud. It sounds so hollow when coming through those small speakers. I open an eye to see who it is. Oh, it's Barry. I realize I'm lying in a hospital bed; Barry is sitting with terrible posture in the chair next to me, his attention on his phone. I don't even remember falling asleep. I can't feel my hands; a glance down and I see them bandaged. I can't even recall how many stitches in total they said I needed. Who the hell manages to cut themselves that bad by merely knocking their hand into a picture frame?

Barry notices I'm moving. He places that s**t-eating grin on his face and removes the earbuds so he can hear any response I have. Everything seems to be moving slowly; whatever painkillers they have me on are pretty good.

"Seems like you and Davis had a hell of an adventure after you left our house," he teases.

"Ugh, f**k off. I punched a picture, that's all," I say, my voice displaying my grogginess.

He leans in as close as he can without tumbling out of the chair. I can feel his voice tickle my ear when he asks, "You guys do it finally?"

"Yes, now can you f**k off?" I say. I hate painkillers. I hate that I can't hold my tongue. It doesn't seem to bother Barry, however, since he just laughs at me. I ask, "What are you doing here, anyway? Where's Davis?"

Barry leans back into the chair at that question. His grin is still present, yet he doesn't answer right away. I can remember being brought here, I remember discussing with a doctor about the amount of stitches, and I remember being told I was going to leave the moment they were done. I don't remember Davis leaving and I certainly don't remember Barry arriving.

"He called me the moment he dropped you off. Poor guys is freaking out. Anyway he ran back to your place to get some clean clothes. You're going to have to stay with someone for the next few days, so getting your clothes now seemed like a good idea. You don't remember having this conversation at all, do you?"

Of course I don't and there's no need for me to tell him that. He says something to me that I ignore. He lightly pats my arm in a gesture of caring before he leaves the room. I have more important things to worry about besides whatever teasing Barry wants to unleash. Like how the hell am I supposed to start my new job in a few days with my hands bandaged and unusable? How am I going to afford this damned hospital bill? How am I going to deal with Davis?

Barry returns, his ever-present grin unwelcomed. He's brought with him a nurse and a wheelchair. I've been through enough hospital visits to know there's only one way out. I hear him make a pass at the nurse and she expertly ignores it. Quickly he turns to me and jokes about how totally lame it is to pass out when getting stitches. I don't have the energy or desire to snap back. I don't even protest when he picks me up out of the bed and places me in the wheelchair. His attention goes back to the nurse and he says something about going to grab his truck before he leaves.

I watch him cast a glance over his shoulder as he leaves, giving the nurse's backside and appreciative look. I hope he can feel the glare I'm sending his way as he rounds the corner. Said nurse is busy giving me some sort of instructions but to be honest I don't hear a word of it. For a moment I wonder what's wrong with me; I never cared about how guys like Barry acted before. Heck, I'm pretty sure plenty of my male friends owe me drinks for the amount of times I helped them get laid with some poor sap of a girl.

Concern over how I'm losing my carefree edge masks all other thoughts. Before I know it, the nurse has already wheeled me to the front. She asks Barry to sign some paperwork for me; I hear him laugh and make some rude comment about how useless I am without hands. It takes a lot for me not to respond that I don't need my hands, but that would only turn into much worse teasing.

He's humming something cheerful as he pushes the wheelchair to the curb where his truck is waiting for us. Again he picks me up. This time, I push him away. "I'm fine, Barry," I tell him. He knows better than to argue with me. With one foot bandaged, I hobble over to the passenger side and climb in.

I struggle to buckle up, the drowsiness from the pills really kicking my ass. Barry takes his sweet fuckin' time say goodbye to the lovely nurse. I try to focus on something to keep me awake. The sun is rising; I can make out many details now. I can't seem to keep my head up, though. Before I know it, the truck is moving. The sound of the engine is drowned out by the radio. I strain my ears, focusing on the music to keep me grounded.

"… There's school spirits at every event, the stands are all packed with fun lovers; In the games we're too drunk to fight back but we celebrate when it's over; I attended the University of Shitfaced and got my degree – "

"Straight Outta Junior High," I mumble.

"Hm?" he hums, having barely heard me.

"This band. Straight Outta Junior High. You were listening to them earlier, too," I say. I'm done. My forehead smacks against the window as I can no longer keep my head up. Barry is honestly the last person I want to be high on painkillers around. He's never going to let me live this down.

Something brushes against my hip and I jolt. My eyes shoot down to see Barry unbuckle me. My eyes look outside, fearful he's about to unbuckle me on the freeway or some godawful dangerous place. Is he not aware of my luck? The moment I'm unbuckled a semi-truck would certainly barrel into us. Of course, we're at a stop sign in the middle of downtown but it's dead this time of day, so there isn't a car around.

Suddenly he's pulling me across the bench seat of his beat up pickup truck. He has to reach across me to grab the seatbelt; he not-so subtly brushes against my breasts. With a wink he lies, "Sorry!" before he pulls the seatbelt across me and clicks it into place. Now that I don't have the window to lean on I'm falling forward. What an asshole move. I want to unbuckle myself and return to my original seat.

I'm stopped when he wraps an arm around me and tugs me toward him. I end up resting my head on his shoulder. I suppose it's slightly more comfortable than the window. Well, it would be, if he didn't ruin it by saying, "You're pretty cute when you're high. Davis is a lucky guy."

"Don't remind me," I mutter.

"About… Davis?" he questions, sounding unsure and confused. I only nod, too damn tired to speak. I can feel him laugh but I don't hear it. "I told you he would be boring."

My only response is a weird guttural noise from the back of my throat. Whatever. Barry, despite his general disregard for common sense, typically can tell when it's best to speak and when not to. I can tell he has something more to say but he opts not to, aware that maybe now isn't a good time to talk to me. Instead, he chooses to lightly rub a hand up and down my arm in a fairly comforting manner.

"Barry why haven't you settled down?"

Have I mentioned I hate painkillers?

There's a slight hesitation in his comforting ministrations before he's back at it again. It's an honest question, though. Perhaps I'm hoping insight into his long string of failures will somehow give insight into my own failures. I couldn't turn to any other friends as most others were already married or close to it. Barry, Davis, and I were the three remaining single people from that group years ago. Davis failed because he never explored outside of Alexa. Barry and I? We'd explored plenty, so what was the deal?

"Because I'm not Willie," he answers. "I don't open up and love like that. Seems like a waste. I'm not Davis, either. Just hanging on to one fantasy forever. I can fulfil my emotional needs in other ways. There's more than one kind of love, you know? But you women – whew! – couldn't quit you if I tried!"

"Why can't Davis be more like that?" I wonder aloud.

Just like that, Barry's hand is gone. He's well aware he's moving into dangerous territory. He's too serious for my liking when he asks, "Is that what this is about? What the hell exactly happened last night that ended with you having twenty f*****g stitches or however many it was?" It's weird hearing him curse harshly like that, so I hesitate to answer. He's aware of that, too. Lightly, he nudges my elbow. "Hey, listen. I don't want to a ruin a good thing for him. He's a good kid. He's deserving of something – and someone – good."

"Who gives a s**t? What about what I want?" I demand, a little more riled than I intended.

"Well, what about what you want? Sorry, darling, but you're not getting another Willie in your life. That ideal man you want doesn't exist and my little brother was the closest thing you'd ever get. Davis has a lot of growing to do but at least he isn't going to hurt you," he says.

I'm not sure why I ask, but I feel compelled to when I say, "What about you?"

"What about me? I already told you. I don't open myself up to love like…" he trails off. I sense him glance at me. There's no hint of a smile in his features anymore. "You mean what about us."

It's a statement, not a question. He's figured it out. I explain, "Davis asked yesterday."

"Is that why you messed up your hands?" he asks.

"No, that was this morning. He… first, yesterday. He asked if I liked you. And I thought it was pretty funny. We're pretty much family. That's weird," I ramble out.

Suddenly, he blurts out a confession, "I used to jerkoff to this audio recording I had of you f*****g my brother." Instantly, I'm embarrassed, moderately bothered, and wondering why the hell he had an audio recording of us. I hear him offer a small laugh before he says, "No joke! His room was right next to mine so I could hear you. Not him. He was way too quiet. I think something was wrong with him, actually. No one is that quiet. But you. Oh, man. Even now, what I wouldn't give to hear that in person."

By the end, my head is lifted from his shoulder and I'm staring at him.

He must feel my eyes on him. He quickly glances at me before turning his eyes back to the road. I can see the tips of ears turning red. "What? I thought I made it clear I want to bang you. Especially back then. God I couldn't help myself sometimes when it came to women. I was messed up. At least now I can hold platonic relationships. Like Jolene. Never thought about her like that, never will."

I can't help but laugh. I have no idea what brings on the amusement. "I'm relieved to hear that," I say.

"Oh? Did you touch yourself thinking about me, too?" he teases.

"I'm not answering that."

"I bet you did."

I'm not answering that, though. Fortunately there's no more time to dwell on the matter as Barry pulls into Davis's driveway. Again, he's quick to help me. Instead of picking me up, he just allows me to lean on him for support. As we approach the front door, he digs into his pocket and pulls out a key.

"You have a key to Davis's house?" I ask, surprised.

"Yeah, of course. He has a key to our house, too. The guy is pretty much Willie's only friend these days," he says.

He pops the door open and allows me entry first. Before he can offer assistance again I've already hobbled to the couch and fallen on it. I don't want to move. I feel kind of gross. I'm in the same clothes I've worn for about three days now; the same ones I've gone fishing in, slept in, played baseball in, initiated s*x in…

Strong arms pick me up and I remain limp, uninterested in moving. Barry moves me just enough to get room for him to settle on the couch. Then he pulls me to him, his warmth enveloping me. I feel him let out a hardy sigh. He quietly asks, "Are you gonna tell me how you managed to hurt yourself yet?"

I don't say a word. All I can do is sigh. My head is heavy and I'm exhausted. Not a full minute passes by before I'm asleep, my mind flooded with memories of the past.

March 2nd, 2004

It was late. Really late. A glance at the digital alarm clock on Willie's nightstand revealed it was almost midnight. It wasn't unusual for her to stroll home even later, but that was only on weekends. What would she had done if it was morning? School was still the next day. Convinced her parents would kill her if she arrived home even a minute later, she panicked.

Movement proved to be a bit painful. Bruises on her hips ached at the slightest twitch. All of her muscles felt unusually stiff. It wasn't that Willie was overly rough on her, though she wanted to curse at him regardless. Yet one look at his sleeping face and she couldn't help but melt. Mouth open, each intake of air causing his entire body to rise; the way his hair was sprawled in all directions; the way every muscle appeared at ease.

Lightly she offered a kiss on his cheek before she resolved to get up. Willie barely stirred. Hurriedly she gathered the few articles of clothing that had been removed and redressed herself. Now she just needed to get her shoes on and she could get out of there. The movement was harsher on her aching body than she expected, so she labored a bit more and soon the beat up tennis shoes were on and laced.

Quietly she snuck out of his room, ensuring the door was closed with a soft "click." Each step down the hallway made her heart beat faster. His parents were no doubt home and in bed, and without the knowledge that she was over. What if she woke them up? Maybe she should've went out the window…

"So… how exactly do you plan on getting home? Walking? The whole ten miles?"

She stiffened at the sound of a gruff and groggy male voice. A glance to her right brought her within inches of Willie's older brother Barnum. Instantly she felt a chill take over before sweat slowly began to pool around her brow. He looked intimidating, with his height and proud posture. Having his arms crossed over his chest didn't do any favors on her panic-stricken mind. Clearly exhausted, his eyes were contorted into harsh slits.

"Are you even in shape to walk home?" he asked. Although there was a lecturing tone in his voice it sounded concerned. When she didn't respond, he sighed. "Hey, you alright? It's okay. I'll give you a ride."

A large hand was placed on her head and it ruffled her already messed up hair. There was no energy in her to swat his hand away. Gently the hand went to her shoulder where it was used to push her along. He guided her outside, making no attempt to sneak about. If his parents heard his truck starting up they wouldn't even stir in their sleep.

Not a word was said as he helped her climb inside the cab of his truck. It wasn't until they were on the road that he spoke again. He asked, "My brother didn't do anything he wasn't supposed to, right? I'll kick his ass if he forced you."

She blushed. "Uh, no! Not at all! He was… really sweet." Now the sweat was really threatening to fall and her cheeks were dyed a shade of red few had never witnessed. She hadn't really thought much about it until that moment. There wasn't any going back. There weren't any regrets, either. So why exactly were tears threatening to fall?

A comforting hand touched her back. The ride home was done in silence. Barry just had a feeling words weren't necessary at that moment.

February 20th, 2008

Huddled in the dark of her dorm room, she held the phone close to her ear. Each ring that passed made her heartbeat faster. Why exactly was this the first number she had dialed? He didn't give a crap, so why was she bothering him? Finally she thought it best to hang up, but was stopped when the sound of the ringing ended.

There was some shuffling, bits of noise that she couldn't quite make out, and some mumbling before a gruff, "Unh, he-hello?" A woman's voice in the background and the sound of the speaker whispering something hit her ears.

"Um, is now a bad time? Did I interrupt something?" she asked.

"What? No! Of course not," he assured her. He attempted to cover the phone when he spoke next, but she heard him loud and clear. "Can you not? Give me a second. Babe, it's important. I don't have to show – fine! Jesus!" Then, clearly into the phone, "Hang on a sec, Kiki."

She sighed. Was it ever a good idea to call Barry past last call? She waited patiently as the phone was set down and a door or two was slammed. Anxiousness only grew in that time. When she heard the phone being picked up again, her heart nearly stopped.

"Sorry, what a b***h! What's up? Is everything okay?" he questioned.

"Yeah, sorry," she said, unsure how to seek the advice she needed. "Um, can I tell you something?"

"Of course," he said without hesitation.

"No judgement?"

"No judgement."

Her voice caught in her throat. Why did she call him? Why not Jeep? Because he would judge you. Why not Davis? Because he would lecture you. Why not… anyone else? It was such a pain. Another loud sigh and she said, "I met someone."

There was a long pause, as though Barry was waiting for her to continue. When she didn't, it must have clicked in his head. "Oh. Is he… rich, at least? I mean, you're giving up a future MLB player for someone so he better be rich. Wait, is he an actor? Did you – "

"Barry," she interrupted, her voice loud enough to cut him off. A headache was forming. She hated talking over the phone. "No, he's… not rich or a movie star. He's a bartender. But he's really grounded. He's doing really well for himself. And I'm not 'giving up' a future MLB star."

"I swear to god if you are two-timing my little brother I will fly down there and kick your ass."

That silenced her. That wasn't a playful tone in the slightest. For the first time in a long time, Barry sounded sincere in a threat. Now the anxiety was at maximum levels. "Barry, Willie and I aren't together right now."

"Why?"

"Because we live a thousand miles apart!"

"So?"

"What do you mean 'so?' It's f*****g hard."

She could hear him make an odd noise reserved for when he had to physically stop himself from speaking. That odd little grunt was something she had heard only when he was near physically beating someone up.

"Kiki, do you… have you ever even wanted a family with my brother?" he asked, his voice quiet and sincere but desperately wanting the truth.

She never answered. She couldn't. Her ability to speak left her. It wasn't something she'd ever even considered or thought seriously about. Emotions from all over the spectrum struck at once. Sadness for what could've been; anger at what she'd already lost; desperation for what she could have. Confused and unsure of what she wanted from anyone caused tears to well up in her eyes. It was like her entire history with Willie was crushing down on her chest, making it impossible to breath.

They sat like that until sunrise, not another word spoken; just her soft cries quietly coming through the speaker on his phone. He'd remind her of it later, when he proudly said, "You know, you're the only girl I'd ever let call me at two-thirty in the morning just to cry. And I'd never hang up on you, ever. Just call me if something's wrong, because nothing's more important."