You're Always in the Last Place You Look (26 page)

“You’re going to get sick now, too.” I tugged the blankets up over my nose, and coughed again.

He smiled. “I think we shared enough germs last night that I’m kinda doomed in that department.”

I nodded, realizing he was probably right. “How’d I get back in bed?” I asked bewildered, and wondering if I had sleepwalked across the hall in my fevered state.

“You were shivering so your dad moved you about an hour ago. There’s a bucket here if you need it.” He lifted up Mom’s grey mop bucket from near his feet. He was sitting in the old rocker from the living room, and I recalled my mom had been sitting in that same spot when I first woke this morning. She must have hauled it in during the night.

“I’m okay right now, just cold.”

“Now
that
I can help you with.” He crawled in behind me, under the blankets, leaving the sheet between us. I snuggled back into him, drinking up his body heat. Soon I quit shivering, and my eyelids grew heavy again.

“Why do you love me?” The words shocked me, and I blamed the fever.

“Who says I love you?” he said, sounding amused. “Maybe I just appreciate you.” His hand roamed up and down my arm, lulling me.

“I don’t want you to appreciate me. I want you to love me,” I mumbled as sleep swept me away.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

It took two days for the flu to let me go. Tuesday night after Zane cleaned Smitty’s house, he stopped by. We curled up on the couch and watched
Perks of being a Wallflower
because I’d never seen it, and Zane said I had to see it. I didn’t really get it, and halfway through Zane fell asleep, so I couldn’t even discuss it with him. I figured he liked the movie because the gay guy looked a bit like him—well, actually, they just had similar hair. Zane was more elegant, with thinner lips and more prominent cheekbones. When the movie ended, I climbed out from underneath his sweating form, and padded into the kitchen where my folks were playing cards.

“Zane’s got the flu, can you drive him home?” I asked Dad.

With a smirk, he nodded. “I knew that was coming.”

*

Heading to Zane’s after school Wednesday was a flagrant disregard of his aunt’s rule banning me from the house, but she could take a flying leap for all I cared. Zane had been there for me, and I was damn well going to be there for him, because something told me she wasn’t.

The garage door was open, and Merrill was inside attempting to repair a broken porch swing that really deserved a respectful burial at the dump. I say attempting because he looked completely confused on how to replace the cracked cross member.

“Hey, Mr. Cormley, how’s Zane?”

Startled, he dropped the piece of wood he had been staring at. “Gabriel! I’m so glad your here!” He rushed forward, seeming about to hug me, then swooped back a few steps, and eyed me nervously. I almost began coughing just to see if he’d bolt. “Listen, I have a meeting I can’t miss in two days, and if I get sick—can you stay with him tonight?”

“What about Mrs. Cormley?” I asked.

“She went to visit her sister, and I’m not doing so well with the puking kid thing.” He gagged, slapping a hand over his mouth, and I very quickly backed away. He swallowed, cleared his throat, but remained green, and I stayed out of range just in case.

“Doesn’t her sister live across town?” Not even ten miles away, actually.

He nodded. “Yes, but she needed some help for a few days. I was heading over there for dinner, but if you stayed with Zane, I could stay the night since its closer to work.” Merrill managed Crossley’s Agriculture, a fertilizer plant that was closer to here than the Grimes’s place. It wasn’t hard to figure out neither of them wanted to deal with their sick nephew.

“Yeah, I’ll stay with him.” Zane deserved better than this. People get sick, and I couldn’t help but wonder what happened when one of
them
fell ill. Merrill’s relief was tangible, his smile brilliant, and his eyes crazy afraid. I shook my head as I walked out to the driveway so I could call Mom to let her know where I’d be.

Merrill donned a mask, one of those white ones you used for painting or woodworking, and zipped inside the house. By the time I was done talking to my mom he had closed the garage and was already starting his car. I waved to him, turned, rolled my eyes, and headed into the house.

I found Zane in his room looking half dead, and drooling into a blue bucket he had clutched in his arms. At least someone had given him a bucket. Yet no one had checked on him in awhile, and even his bedspread was damp with sweat. It was just the flu, and he’d survive without any help, but it was so much nicer when you had someone to take care of you. Heck, my mom had even changed my pajamas at one point that first day I spent in the bathroom. I hadn’t even had the energy to be mortified over the fact she had seen me naked. Instead I found myself grateful that I was warm and dry.

Zane didn’t really rise to lucidity as I changed his bedding, stripped his shirt and boxers, then wiped him down. He managed a few moans, and opened his eyes for a moment when I pulled his boxers off. Seeing him naked did practically nothing for me. Even his junk appeared pale and sickly. But when my hand brushed up against all that silky wrinkled skin while wrestling a clean pair of plaid boxers on him—even though he was hot and sweaty down there, I reacted so fast it made my head swim.

And, not surprisingly, I finally had my chance to hold his hair while he threw up—which proved to be a majorly over rated nicety.

Still somewhat achy and weak from my own bout, I fell asleep in his desk chair reading this book called
Jake Reinvented
. Halfway through the night I crawled into the space between the wall and Zane, too stiff to remain hunched over in the chair.

I opened my eyes in the morning to Zane staring at me. “I need a shower,” he said in lieu of greeting.

“Yeah, you smell, well, sick. How do you feel?”

He rubbed his stomach. “Like I did four-hundred sit-ups.” I touched his neck, then his forehead, surprised at how cool he felt. He gave me an exasperated look as he twisted away. “Honest, I’m good. Tired, but good.”

Stretching, and basically using it as an excuse to get away from his awful breath, I shook my head in disbelief. “Man, you’ve got a stronger immune system than me.”

While Zane showered, I changed his sheets, and then called my dad on the house phone.

“How’s he doing?”

“He’s better. Can you call in for me?”

“No. You can’t afford to miss anymore school,” he said, causing me to huff. Of course he heard me. “Gabriel, you’re barely passing math, and if you fail you’ll be going to summer school because I won’t have you not graduate.”

“But—okay, what if Zane helped me?”

“What if I helped you what?” I held my hand up, then frowned when I saw him standing in only a pair of grey boxers and wet hair.

I covered the receiver. “You’ve been sick. Would you get some fucking clothes on?”

“Helped you how?” Dad said slowly. “Gabriel?”

“Sorry. Um, he’s really good at math. He’s in the advanced calculus class. If he helped me, I bet I could bring my grade up.” It was a long shot, a really long shot.

“Aren’t finals next week?”

“Yeah, but if I can turn in some of my missing assignments before Friday, Mr. Kernsey said he’d count them.”

“Give me that!” Zane snatched the phone out of my hands.

“Mr. Simmons? Yes, I’m just tired...I had no idea he was behind...yeah, okay, I’ll see you in a bit.” He hung up, then slammed the receiver back onto the base. Turning, he stalked from the room. “Why didn’t you fuckin’ tell me you were failing math? The one thing I can help you in.”

I followed him into his room. “I’m...I’m not failing. Yet,” I stammered, defending myself, but why only God knew, because my failing was inevitable.

He looked over his shoulder at me. “A D is as good as failing.” He yanked a blue tie-dyed shirt out of his dresser and tugged it over his head. Fisting his hands, he glanced at them, and I noticed the twitch high on his left cheek. He made a face at the pill bottles on his nightstand. “I don’t even want to try.” Shaking his head, he looked at me. “We’re working on your math today. That’s the deal I made with your dad. He’s on his way over with your book.”

*

Zane proved an excellent tutor, if only because he was relentless. Of course he understood all of this, while I didn’t understand a dang bit of it.

He pushed his fingers into his eyes and groaned. “How is it you have a B in science, but can’t understand basic algebra?”

“How do you know I have a B?” I asked curiously.

“Because when I was looking at my grade, I saw yours.” He shook his head, and rolled his eyes at my shocked expression. “I just like to know how I’m doing, okay. If I need to work harder, then I can.”

“I’m only doing well in science because I’m cheating off you.”

He laughed. “Not possible.”

“And why not? You think I’m not above cheating?” I wasn’t as goody-two-shoes as everyone thought, and I was a little incensed even though I actually had never cheated off Zane.

He continued to chuckle. “Well, yeah, I do. But it’s impossible, because I’ve been copying off you.” He shrugged. “I suck at science.”

“Why you—you...”

“No ones here, you can say it.”

Chuckling, I shook my head, impressed, since I couldn’t remember ever seeing him do it.

Zane suddenly stopped laughing, and splayed a hand against his stomach. “Suddenly not feeling so good.” He glanced around the room for a minute as if lost before darting to the bathroom. He had eaten a few crackers about an hour ago, and when they stayed down, he had braved his pills. Obviously the pills had been a mistake.

When he came back, he slid gingerly into bed, laying a shaky hand over his eyes. I turned out the light and headed for the kitchen to find something to eat. I, on the other hand, was starving.

Despite Zane’s relapse, I managed to finish seven missing assignments before my eyes and mind went on strike, and a headache took over. I glanced over and found Zane watching me.

“T-tomato soup?”

“You want tomato soup?”

He nodded. “S-sounds good. Ma-maybe a s-sprite.” I heard his stomach gurgle from halfway across the room. He grimaced. “Or m-maybe n-not.”

“I can do soup. How long can you go without your pills?”

He paled, and gave them a dirty look. “Mm w-won’t die.”

“Good. Because I don’t think I’m ready to lose you yet.” He smiled faintly at that.

Opening the pantry I expected to find canned goods, dry goods, the things a pantry usually holds. This one, however, held dishes, pots, pans, the vacuum, but not a stitch of food. I finally found the tomato soup in a bottom drawer. Actually the only thing in that drawer was tomato soup—about twenty cans worth. I plopped it into the saucepan I had stumbled upon in the pantry, added water, and set it on the stove. I blinked at the blue numbers on the microwave. Holy crap, no wonder my brain was mush. I’d been doing math homework for over seven hours, save for my snack break. Dad should be happy with that. Heck, I was astounded.

After splitting the soup into two coffee mugs, I opened the fridge and stared dumbfounded, while his aunt’s craziness gazed back at me. It was the most organized, most pristine fridge I had ever seen. And it only held about ten items, but there was an overabundance of those ten items, all in their own rows with nothing touching anything else. Two gallons of milk, six tubs of margarine, four containers of cottage cheese, a whole shelf of yogurt, pop and orange juice in the door, water in the bottom drawer, and not a vegetable or condiment in sight. Insane. The cupboard I had opened earlier had been a chaotic assortment of snack foods. Maybe that was Zane’s cupboard. I grabbed an orange juice, and a bottle of water, making sure not to disrupt anything else for fear it might put Mrs. Cormley over the edge.

Zane held his soup down, but shook off his pills when I gestured to them. I borrowed a pair of sweats and a t-shirt to sleep in. God he was built weird. The shirt was tight, and the sweats hung on me enough I had to gather the waist so they didn’t fall down as I crawled in next to him.

His ticks had escalated without his medication, and it was hard for me to fall asleep with him twitching every minute or so. Yet I didn’t mind. He smelled faintly of sweat, and soap, but mostly Zane. And he was curled against me in a way that made it seem he had been built just for that purpose. I pulled him closer, wishing that could be true—that he had been created just for me because then he wouldn’t be able to ever leave. That was incredibly selfish, but I didn’t care right now.

*

Growling at him, I cinched my arm down as he stretched, not ready for him to move out of the cup of my body. He took my hand, and kissed my palm, then laced his fingers with mine, and tucked himself back against me.

“Are you feeling better?” My eyes popped open at the sound of Merrill’s voice, and I scrabbled into sitting position.

“Sorry...I, um, just...really have no excuse. Sorry.”

He chuckled behind the same type of mask he had worn the last time I’d seen him. “Gabriel, do you really think I wasn’t prepared to find you here? I didn’t imagine you’d sleep on the couch. I am thankful you both have clothes on this time though. So, how’s the patient?”

I glanced at Zane, and he yawned, and nodded. His body had just begun to ramp up, and I could see the muscles as they tensed along his face.

I looked at Merrill standing stiffly in the doorway. “He hasn’t been able to keep his pills down.”

Merrill adjusted the mask on his face. “He’s okay without them. He only takes them because he doesn’t like losing control of his motor functions.”

“Do you blame him?” It came out much louder than intended. Maybe because Merrill looked ready to flee at any moment, and this inconsideration for his nephew traveled on the tail of his own declaration to do better. Which kind of ticked me off. Of course I wasn’t completely awake yet either, and I could be grumpy in the mornings.

“No, not one bit. I’m not the enemy here, Gabriel.” He adjusted the mask again. “I have a problem with people being sick. I guess it’s a phobia actually. But being around someone sick drives me nuts, and I’ve been this way since I was a kid. Please know if you hadn’t been able to stay, I wouldn’t have left him.”

“T-t-t. D-Damn...” I glanced at Zane, pissed off he couldn’t get his words right, and when he saw he had my attention he nodded slowly, verifying what his uncle said as true.