| RUNNING ON EMPTY BY TORRI |
CHAPTER 43 |
Todd's Apartment
Tea watched over Todd as he slept. He was so peaceful like that, with his eyes closed and his hair spilling onto his face covering his eyes. Looked like a little boy, an innocent little boy who would wake up with hope for the new day. A little boy who knew of no pain, only the careless joy of a child. He lay on her lap, her legs his pillow, her arms, his security blanket. She placed her hand over his heart; it beat fast and steadily against her palm. Every now and then she felt an oddity in his heart, sometimes it seemed as if it would jump out of his chest, other times it was slow and steady.
It had been a long night for both of them. Even so, she felt more alive than she had in months. He did that to her, reeled her into his tortured life and resuscitated her will to go on. He took her away from her own worries, her own ghosts that had been haunting her more frequently. His life was a distraction, his love a welcome guest. And really, that's all it was, a guest. It couldn't last, not with the two of them so tortured by their pasts and seeking salvation from each other.
She had searched his apartment while he was sleeping. Found alcohol bottles "hidden" around the apartment in the cupboards, under the bed, in the dresser. Found other things too pictures, clothing some hers, some were not. A twinge of jealousy coursed through her veins when she found a pair of women's underwear underneath his bed. She forced those feelings to the back of her heart; they were divorced after all. She had moved on, in a sense, it was only natural that one day he would do the same. Just as she poured any alcohol she found down the drain, she threw the underwear away and tried not to think about it.
She slid back to her place on the couch. Positioned his head back on her lap. Wrapped her arms around him and listened to the sound of him breathing. He mumbled a little, incoherent sentences and phrases. Snored a bit, jolted himself to a semi-wake state a couple of times. For the most part though, he slept soundly.
Her dad was like that. He would come in late at night, mumbling something about "the white man" and fling his tired body onto the worn, brown and orange couch. He always wore a white, sleeveless tank top too, with a pair of jeans. No matter how hot or cold it was outside, he dressed in that "uniform." But his shirt was never white not bright white it had stains or a yellow tint caused by too many washings. He would sweat profusely through the cheap fabric. Always around the neckline and the center of his back.
Her mother waited for hours for him to make an appearance. If she didn't, everybody knew what would happen. Instead of his loud whispers, they would have heard his shouts followed by the sound of bones breaking.
There were many things she remembered about his drinking binges. She especially remembered his passing out after sloppily eating the meal that her mother prepared. Her mother would patiently wait for him to finish, take away his dirty dishes and the beer he drank to wash it down, lift his weighty body up a little, and slide his head onto her lap.
Tea would sneak out of her bedroom and watch them. She heard her father's snores and gagged on the blast of liquor that filled the air with each breath. She watched as slobber stained her mother's dress. And she watched as her mother cried over him, her tears dripping onto his shirt.
Years later, it was Tea who had replaced her mother and Todd who had replaced her father. She had turned into her mother, even to the point of leaving her stepdaughter. She broke the promise she made to herself, that if she ever had a child she wouldn't walk out on it. Starr was just like her daughter, she couldn't have loved her more and yet, she left. Left, almost without saying goodbye.
*****
Todd groaned as the morning light beamed in through the window. It was one of those days when the sun seemed as if it was right outside his window, larger than ever and brighter than ever pounding against his temples. He covered his eyes with the back of his arm and rolled over, away from the sun. That was when he realized someone was there with him, when he felt the warmth emanating from her body.
One of his dreams had come true...she was there with him, filling his heart with a little hope. He didn't remember much from the night before; it didn't matter. What mattered was the present, and her presence in his life. He lay there against her, feeling her.
She knew he was awake and let him have his moments with her. She wanted him to feel her love and know that he was not alone in the world. She wanted to feel him, to know she was not alone in the world. She stroked his damp hair and touched his clammy skin, soothed him with her loving touch.
They stayed that way for over an hour. Occasionally, he would moan and she would touch his chest, feel his heart beating against her hand. They had never been together for so long without arguing or without that tenseness that always filled the air around them. She liked the calmness of the morning. Liked his waking up with her body next to his. It was temporary, she knew that, but it still felt good.
It had to end, that peacefulness, and they both knew it. As the minutes ticked away, so did their time together until the realization hit them both, that it was, no matter how painful, time to pull away. She shifted his weight and moved from beneath him, slipping a pillow under his head.
"You leavin'?" Todd asked, turning to face her. She was just as he remembered the night before, beautiful and sad, despite the little smile that adorned her face. Over by the window she stood, with the sun encasing her body, magnifying her features.
"Not yet," she assured him. His eyes were a little red, his hair a little messy, his clothes a little wrinkled, a little stubble around his jaw line and he looked more handsome than she ever remembered. She thought back to her mother if she had the same feelings when she saw her father after a night of bingeing. It could have been the stark "night and day" contrast between the night of the binge and the morning after that attracted both women to such dangerous men. So mean her father could be when he was under the influence always at night. But the next morning, he was calm, less edgy, and practically nice. Todd could be the same way, mean as hell one minute and cool and calm the next. Night and day.
"I didn't hurt you last night, did I?"
"No, you didn't. Why would you ask that?"
"I don't know. I guess I just wanted to make sure, you know?" He smacked his lips and tasted old, stale alcohol on his tongue. That was the thing about drinking, the morning after taste. There was no getting rid of it, not by brushing, drinking coffee it didn't dissipate until it was good and ready. He didn't want to talk to her like that. "God, I'll be right back," he groaned. He sat up too fast and felt the blood rush to his head. He could hear it moving around, the blood crashing against his temples and the sides of his skull.
Tea was right at his side, steadying his wavering body. "Take it easy. You need me to get something for you?"
He shook his head "no," and leaned back against the cushions, holding his throbbing head. He had never been that bad off. There had been headaches after too much drinking, but never so severe.
"I'll make us some coffee. How's that sound?"
When he didn't answer, she took it as a "yes." In the kitchen, she instinctively knew where everything was. It had a similar setup to the kitchen at the penthouse and she felt quite at home. She hummed as she moved around with ease, putting on a pot of coffee and fixing a little breakfast. She really didn't want to leave him so soon so she tried to prolong the morning. Eventually, it would all have to end and she would return to her life on the Upper West Side and he would remain downtown both getting on with their lives. For the time being, she would enjoy being with someone who saw beyond the smiles and skin, straight to the real Tea Delgado.
*****
The sounds of Tea's humming filtered through the vents and into the bathroom. Todd didn't know what she was humming, but she used to hum something similar to that at the penthouse. It never ceased to bring a smile to his face, hearing that sound when he went home from the office when he bothered to go home from the office at all.
Sometimes, after they had gotten into another one of their fights and he would storm out, he was afraid that he would go home to an empty house. Every time, he half expected her to have packed her things and walked out of his life for good, with a brief message thanking him for making her rich. Every time, he opened the door and would stand there, listening for the sound of her humming. Always, he would hear her sounds and breathe a sigh of relief.
While he listened to her, he tried to brush away the stale taste in his mouth. Torturing himself didn't make sense, but not much about his life ever made sense. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror, wishing his eyes were less red and he didn't have bags and he didn't look so damned old in the harsh sunlight that streamed through the small window.
His head was killing him, his legs felt like rubber and he had an awful feeling of dread. Dread for the "goodbye" that was inevitable and dread for what he may have done the night before. There were large chunks of his memory that were lost. He knew what he wanted to do with her, but he didn't know how far it had gone or if he had made a complete fool of himself. She would never tell him if he did.
He thought only of her while he showered. The way she smelled, the way her eyes widened at the sight of him. Those eyes; he missed those eyes flashing with anger or brimming with excitement those eyes told him all he wanted to know of her moods. He washed himself quickly; ready to get back to her.
*****
It was as if they had settled back into domesticity. Tea cooking him breakfast; he devouring it as if he were a man condemned to his last meal. It might as well have been. Without her, he was a dead man, walking but dead. Breathing but dead. Rhythms compulsions necessities. The rhythm of his breath the compulsion to go on the necessity of her light in his life.
He scraped what remained on his plate to its center and shoveled it into his mouth. Her cooking was the best he'd ever tasted. It was her pain, her suffering, her tears, her laughter, her iron will that seasoned his nourishment. Nourishment ironic when it came to him, a weird paradox the boozer and user and abuser taking in "nourishment." He chuckled to himself at the irony. There was a time when he gave her a hard hell about her spicy "salsa food," but he secretly loved it. Reminded him of her it was hot, spicy, and when she played that "salsa music" over a meal, it could be quite sexy.
The scraping of his fork against his plate irritated her. The sound, grating against the porcelain was enough to drive her closer over the edge to insanity. It was too much like meals when she was a child, when everyone sat around the table and ate in silence. The only sounds that could be heard were the sound of forks, food being chewed and liquid being swallowed. The silence drove her crazy most of the time. She couldn't wait to get away from that "air sucking" environment and into the confines of her room. There, she could be alone in silence and alone with her six-year-old despair.
"That was really good, Delgado." Todd leaned back into his chair and patted his full stomach. The chair creaked from his weight. Tea just watched him, thinking of how thin he appeared how sick he was. The last time she had seen him, he was at least ten pounds heavier and his eyes weren't sunken quite as deep into his face, nor were they surrounded by such darkness.
"Are you sick, Todd?"
"Sick? Yeah I'm sick. You just now figuring that out? Jeez Delgado, where'd you get that law degree of yours? A Cracker Jack box?"
The joke fell flat she only looked at him harder. Squinted at him with that stare that managed to pull his most private thoughts from deep inside. "I'm serious. Why did those messages you left on my machine sound so urgent? What happened?"
"Look, it's no biggie. Just drop it okay?"
"You're not getting off that easy Todd. You have got to open up to someone or else you're going to destroy yourself? Or is that what you have in mind? Do you want people to feel sorry for you feel bad for you hurt for you while you try to kill yourself? From the looks of it," she says, looking him up and down, "you're not doing such a bad job."
He had to admit that he looked bad. His hair was stringy, his eyes were red, his skin was paler than it had ever been. And he felt unhealthy. Like something was eating him from the inside out and there was no cure. He had the ability to lower his voice to barely above a whisper, and break her heart with whatever words came out of his mouth. "I don't know what I'm trying to do. I don't know anything anymore, Tea. I don't want you to feel sorry for me. I want you to be happy, so why aren't you Delgado?"
Deflection. Turned the spotlight right back onto her and she was not expecting it. It was a question she had been asking herself for quite some time and still hadn't found a satisfactory answer.
Why aren't I happy? Why aren't I happy? I have everything I wanted as a child I'm rich. But what do I do with all of it? What does it mean? What is it worth? What am I worth? Answer me, damnit! Why am I not happy?
Oh, she could have said that she was too busy or that she really was happy or she was simply too distracted. Todd would see past that though he always saw past things. Saw past her past when no one else could get past her being the janitor's daughter or the color of her skin. He saw the truth, and he would see the truth that was deep in her heart happiness was not an option for her.
"I'm waiting."
"You are going to continue to wait because I am not going to dignify that with an answer. We're talking about you right now and whatever the hell has been going on in your life."
Out of all the people he had ever known, she was the one person to accept him completely. Even when everyone else was screaming at her to get far away from him, she used her own judgment and accepted him. When everyone told her about his past, even after she researched his background herself she accepted him. That was then. They were two different people both hardened by love and the cruel world that surrounded them. Her heart was a little more closed off than before, more isolated, just plain cold. Her eyes were even different and if she knew if she knew how he almost died and how, she might not be so accepting.
As if she could read his mind she said, "I don't judge you you know that. I just don't want to be shut out completely when you so obviously needed me."
"Needed past tense. Everything's fine so you can go back to your happy, normal life and leave me here to drown in whatever." He switched modes morphed into the angry bastard that so many people hated. He picked up the dishes that were on the table and dropped them in the sink. They both heard things cracking, but they eyes never left each other. He was trying to chase her away she was daring him to come at her with all he had. "You want me to bring you down, Tea? Do you want me to suck all the life out of you too? Or are you just this much of a masochist?" He was yelling at her, yet her eyes never left his. She just shredded her paper napkin in her hand and waited for the end of his tantrum.
"I don't think you could bring me down," further, "even if you tried. Let everybody else believe you're that scary monster, but don't try that shit with me. If you're not going to answer then don't but don't fucking call me ever again if you can't be honest and answer a simple question." She didn't mean it. If he stopped calling, she would lose her mind what was left of it.
"Tea, don't say that. Please, don't say that." His voice changed from angry and threatening, to soft and vulnerable, just like that. He touched her heart just like that.
"Don't do this Todd. Stop playing this game with me. I can't take it. Do you understand that? I cannot take it."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about games Todd. I am sick of playing them with you. You KNOW how hard it is for me to turn my back on anyone. You KNOW I can't stand to see a person in need. You KNOW these things about me, yet you play on my sympathy. You're like the boy who cried wolf. One of these days, Todd, you're really going to need somebody and you know what? Nobody is going to come because no one will believe you." Her voice was raised; her body trembled with anger. She drew her hands to her face, felt the hotness in her temperature. She didn't know why she was angry with him; they were in the past. Maybe it was more frustration than anything else. It was the same old story with him, reel 'em in and set 'em lose. He never let her lose though; she'd never be free. After all, she spent her entire life running from her past she couldn't. She could run away from him. She could run and leave his physical presence only to be left with their memories. It's what she had to do, for herself. She had to leave the environment, leave him to his own suffering. She looked at him one last time and left the apartment, left him standing in the middle of the kitchen floor, wondering what the hell happened.
