Todd let that white, the white of the walls, the white of the ceiling, take him wherever he wanted. It was a blank canvas; his mind could fill it with any pictures he could imagine. Heaven's not so bad. I could stay here for a while. His mind formed an outline of Tea, her head, her full lips, and her doe eyes, filling her in with the precious light brown of coloring of hers. Her swanlike neck and erect posture, head to toe perfection. He was in unchartered territory, in the unique position of admiring his figment, openly, the way he wished he could have admired the reality.

His mind continued to create its masterpiece. He saw his hair first; followed by his scar, his intense eyes, supple lips. His scars all over his body; his battle wounds. Colored his skin with shades of peach and pink, light browns, and mixes of black and blue. Ugliness.

The movie projector that was his mind merged the two, creating a short film of his utopia. No running, simple touchings of two lovers who knew each other intimately. A caress of his cheek, a tracing of his scar, a kiss of his wound...closeness. He touched her face, memorizing its structure. Ran his fingers along her neck, stroking that little dent between her shoulder blade and her chin. How he loved to kiss that part of her, especially when she squirmed because his goatee tickled.

His hand trailed down her body to her naval, poking his finger inside, then tracing around it. He loved its flat, smooth surface, the way it rose and fell with each breath. His hair fell to either side of her body as he kissed his way toward her prize.

The white canvas was doused with red paint. Peter Manning appeared, abolishing the peaceful picture of serenity. Rising up from the pits of fiery red hell, twice the size of Todd, he watched himself cower in a corner. Naked, teary eyed, shaking trapped.

"Hey, man, take it easy," J. said, shaking Todd.

"I'm easy, I'm takin' it easy," Todd slurred. The red was gone, what was left was the white, but it had turned coldlike winterlike icelike the world. The high was not the same. Coming down was hitting the ground at a hundred miles an hour, headfirst into a pool of depression.

"This is some potent shit you gotta be careful. Shit'll take you high man, so fucking high and boom you're down again. Smoke another one and you float right back up there see what I'm sayin'?" J. used his scale to measure out Todd's usual purchase. "You want me to hook you up with a little of that shit too?"

"A little of that shit, yeah."

****

Later that Night

Todd didn't want to go home to another night of television and bad dreams. He feared that if he allowed his eyes to close and his mind to relax, Peter would pay him another visit. That's the way it worked when he was a kid. Just when he thought he was safe and began to let his guard down ever so slightly bam the tyrant made an appearance.

He had the sudden urge to see Starr, to talk to her, to tell her how much he loved her. She was better off without him, he thought, but it still didn't stop him from wanting to be her "daddy." It was too risky. She was too precious to have to deal with his madness, too sweet to let him sour her with his love. It was best to be far away from her, where his spirit could not touch her.

It was supposed to be different for her. He was supposed to be her safe haven, her light in the dark, her hero, her dad. Instead, he was some dope feign alcoholic, incapable of being a good father or a good person. You're safe Starr. You're better off without me. Whatever he touched, whatever he loved, whatever he dared allow himself to adore, he ruined.

He hopped into a subway car, with no particular destination in mind. It didn't matter where he went as long as it was far away from his downtown apartment. He sat in the back of the car, leaning his head against the wall. Another man was on the train, an older man, graying hair, dirty, wearing several layers of tattered clothing. He watched Todd looked him up and down.

"What the fuck you lookin' at?" Todd asked, waiting for the man to make any threatening move, either that or ask for money. That's the way they worked, checked you out, appraised you, bumped into you, robbed you, stabbed you, killed you.

"You got troubles, but it's gonna be okay," Mr. Jazz man said. His voice was smooth and soft, the voice of knowledge.

"Leave me alone you fuckin' freak."

"I know you're angry, my brother, but you can change all that. You may've done wrong, but it's okay, you can be forgiven."

"You don't know nothin' about me." Todd found himself listening, despite his efforts to do the exact opposite.

"I don't know everything, but I do know something. You can have anything you want, you gotta have a little faith, turn your life around before judgment day."

"Who's? 'Cause I gotta tell ya, my I've been waitin' for my judgment day and it just won't come. I fuckin' do everything I can, but your fuckin' God won't let me die. People like me, who already know where they're goin', see, we're forced to stay here and be tortured by your God. Judgement, I don't need to be judged, I need to die. So tell your God, I'm ready, tell him to come and judge me unworthy just like everyfuckingbody else."

Mr. Jazz man was neither fazed, nor was he intimidated. He felt sorry for the man in the corner, filled with so much anger, bitterness and resentment, that he thought the only way to deal with it was to die. Sad that he didn't know that all of those feelings would follow him in death. "Everybody's worthy, my friend. Look in the mirror, decide what you want, go after it. You gotta live, man, before you can die."

Todd ran off the subway car at the next stop. Mr. Jazz man had freaked him out, him and infinite wisdom. Too much like those crazies who wave their Bible's around, yelling how the "end is coming." Or people like Reverend Andy and his spur of the moment sermons. Nothing could change him around; he was too far-gone.

Stomping up the stairs into the freezing night, he took a moment to gather himself. He didn't realize it at first, but he was only a couple of blocks away from Tea's place. He could sleep there, just like before. It felt good being able to relax without fear of what dreams would plague his mind. Tea had a gift for "quieting" things in his head. He couldn't be her burden any longer, didn't want his weight to unbalance her stable life.

One little phone call wouldn't hurt anything. She would probably want to hear from him to at least know he was okay. Without giving himself time to talk himself out of it, he withdrew his cell phone from his pocket and dialed her number. It rang five times no answer. The machine picked up and he listened to her voice, hanging up without leaving a message.

A neon sign glowed in the distance. The red and green of it, shone on his face, attracting his attention. "Wake Me Up Caf," the sign read, glowing, blinking, calling. His feet carried him toward the restaurant. He hung around on the outside, letting the cold air beat the rest of his high out of his body. It was one thing to be stoned when he was around other losers, or at home, but quite another to be in that condition at an Upper East Side restaurant.

Inside, it was pretty quiet. The exact opposite of downtown, where there was never any "downtime" or dull moments. He drew no attention as he took a seat at the counter.

"What can I get you?"

"Just a cup of coffee." He looked at his watch, seeing two minute hands and two second hands. Guess I should have stayed outside longer.

He drank cup after cup of coffee, heavy on the sugar, watching the night crowd leave, making room for the morning crowd. There was no pressure for him to order anything; they just kept filling his mug.

The regulars came in for their ritualistic donuts and coffee to go, or their sit-down breakfasts accompanied by their copy of the New York Times. They chatted with the workers that they had grown to know over time, laughing and smiling. Oh how morning people pissed him off. It wasn't fair that they got a full night's sleep while he suffered through one cup of coffee after the other.

Tea often stopped into the cafe before her workout to grab a quick bite of something. She could not stand making breakfast for just one person; it was too damned depressing. She had a favorite spot, the centermost stool at the counter. It was empty, waiting for her arrival. "Morning Kyle."

"Morning Ms. Delgado. Your usual?"

"Yes, please."

Todd heard her voice, that beautiful sound that had put him to sleep so many nights. Tea and her boring stories. He turned to her, catching a side view, and holding it. She read the newspaper, her eyebrows pointing toward her nose, that wrinkle of concentration between her brows. Her right hand moved back and forth across her forehead; her mind was in maximum overdrive.

Whenever Todd was near, Tea's heart would do this thing, flutter, or skip a beat, or something really weird, and she'd know he was close. The closer in proximity he was, the stronger the feeling. Her heart had been beating quickly ever since she walked into the restaurant.

She glanced around at her surroundings, checking out the patrons. She found him immediately, staring right back at her.

He half-heartedly waved at her, giving her a half-smile. Time stood still long enough for him to take a mental snapshot of her expression. It was a combination of surprise with a hint of happiness.

If he could have, he would have sat down next to her and put his head on her shoulder. He would have buried his head in her sweetness and slept there for hours, days even. His feet did that thing again, carried him to a place that, if given much forethought, he never would have gone the empty stool next to her.

"Hey."

"Hello." Tea resisted the temptation to turn her nose up at the smell of marijuana that permeated through his clothes. She wasn't his mother; he was no longer her problem. He was Viki's, and whomever else's that was willing to sacrifice themselves for him.

"How are you?" He regressed back to high school, the nervous jock with a crush on the most popular girl in school. The one with all the attitude, and a reputation for shooting down every guy that tried to get close.

"I'm good. You?"

"I'm okay."

She knew he was lying. He may not have been in any physical pain, but he was far from okay. He's not my problem. "ummgood. Do you want to have something to eat with me?"

"Sure," he answered hopefully.

"Great. Why don't we go and get a booth."

"Yeah, okay." He was anxious to be alone with her, to listen to her babble on about anything. It was her voice, always her voice that played like a symphony in his head. Calm and serene, except when she was angry. She could yell and scream just as loudly as him, get just as angry, and feel just as guilty for saying all those words out of anger. She was reaching out to him. She asked him to join her for breakfast.

"Kyle, we're going to have a seat over there," pointing to an empty booth, "could you have-"

"Sure, as soon as it's ready, I'll send it right over."

"Thanks."

The booth was right by a window, beneath the neon sign that stopped glowing in the light of morning. It was quiet between them, but they were content. Sometimes, when they started talking to one another, the harsh words that had been locked up for song would come creeping to the surface. It was better to just revel in the tranquility.

Todd concentrated on the world outside, the hustle and bustle of the morning commuters. Walking so fast, ignoring everything going on around them. Everything goes so fast. He kept his eyes on a woman, an older woman, struggling with canvas bags in each hand. She moved right along with the flow of the crowd, leaving tracks in the slush-covered sidewalk. He watched as she did a pirouette, her arms spread to her sides, trying futilely to maintain her balance. When she fell, no one stopped to help her; she just lay there, all alone. He couldn't help but to laugh, heartily, loudly.

"What are you laughing at?" Tea asked, following his gaze out onto the street. "Oh my god," she said, trying to suppress her own laughter.

"Oh, come on Delgado, you know it's funny." The woman lay on her back, struggling to get up, and everyone just kept going, stepping over her, around her, laughing openly. He turned serious suddenly, thinking of how she fell, with no one to help her. She hit the ground, with nothing or no one to brace her fall. "I'll be right back."

"Todd-." He was gone before she could finish. She threw her hands up in disgust, continuing to watch the lady in the street. She watched in amazement as Todd, reached for the older woman's arm and helped her to her feet. His lips were moving, and then they disappeared. She heard bell above the door ringing, and a woman's voice fussing about one thing or another. She turned around to see the old woman settle at the counter, and Todd give the cashier some money while saying something to her.

"Okay, sorry about that," Todd said, rejoining her at their table.

"What was that all about?"

"I don't know. I just...I don't know. She was just alone out there, I mean she coulda' been hurt or something," he stammered.

"Yeah. Hey, if you keep doing all these good deeds, I'll start to think you've turned over a new leaf."

"Nope." He grew quiet again.

The waitress brought their meal, and they ate wordlessly. She wanted to shake him, make him talk. There was a discernable difference in him, more sadness; then again, the same could be said to her. No, people would probably say the change in her was less sadness and more bitchiness. That's what she wanted them to say. But Todd, he was always so sad, always on the brink of hurting himself or someone else.

Todd used to be able to read her mind. As badly as he wanted to, he just couldn't. Her body spoke a "new language," new movements combined with the old. He didn't know what the "knuckle pop" meant, or the "nape rub." He didn't know what the "ear pull" or the "fifteen second blink" were all about. The smile only made an occasional appearance, never for long, just to exercise those muscles.

"Oh, I almost forgot to tell you I talked to your sister."

"Oh."

"Yeah, she's worried about you. You might want to give her a call just to let her know you're alright."

"You already did that." I'll be damned if I call Viki so she can try to convince me to come "home." I don't have fucking home. "No, I'm not calling Viki."

"Oh, okay, it's your decision." She checked her watch.

"You got somewhere you gotta be?"

"Yes, yes I do."

"Can't you stay and have another cup of coffee? Just one more, for old time's sake?"

She hesitated briefly before answering. "Just one more."

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