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 No. I m a little&  he murmured, and staggered a bit, and I admit, I guessed he d been
drinking or maybe taking drugs.
I got up quickly and came around him to help him with his coat.  Rough day.
 Thanks. He walked past me to the bathroom, unbuttoning his shirt. As soon as I saw
his shoulder revealed in the glow of one of those plug-in nightlights, I had to fight the urge
to say something. His skin was covered with marks. I watched him, feeling my blood drain
from my face.  You have no idea.
St. Nacho s 87
 I guess I don t. I stood there, stunned.
He began to pull down his trousers and I saw thin red slashes, welts, and bruises.
Stripes covered his back and down his buttocks, and I guessed from the way he took off his
undershorts, down his thighs as well. I watched without understanding at all.
 Jordie? I stared at his ruined skin.  What the fuck?
 I needed it, he said simply.
I sat down hard on my side of the bed.
 I need it sometimes. I found out it helps. It s not like you don t know that.
 Jordie, how can it help you? My past was fueled by alcohol and stupidity. Any kinky
pain play, anytime I d taken that road had been for the rush, the chance to experience just
how far I could take my body to the edge. How much further I could push it, allow it to be
pushed, before I slid into the darkness and surrendered to it. This was not the same. This was
another drug for Jordie, another bite at the apple that he considered safe because it didn t
involve street drugs or alcohol. But I knew better. He was playing with the most powerful
drugs of all, and he d allowed himself to get hurt to get high.
He shook his head.  I don t know. I lose myself.
 Jordie. I barely breathed.
 Night, Coop, he said, crawling to his side of the bed. He rolled away from me,
presenting the gruesome tableau that was his flesh, and stared at the wall.
 Jordie, I said. I wanted to put my hand on him but I was afraid.
The following day Jordan was gone before I woke up. He d left a note saying he was
going to a meeting before work.
88 Z. A. Maxfield
Chapter Fourteen
I probably didn t give Jordan enough credit for trying to work his way back from the
past, even though I continued to try to support his efforts. It was never far from my mind
that it was my past, too, that we were trying to live down. That night when he got home I
asked him if he wanted to go to the grocery store with me. I saw a flash of something in his
eyes that I didn t understand, fear maybe, or resignation, but he agreed to go. He was still
wearing his uniform shirt from the UPS Store and looked more tired than I d seen him in a
while.
 I ll buy you ice cream, I said without thinking, just like I would have when we were
kids. For a minute that seemed to help.
 I can get my own ice cream, Cooper, he said, petulantly.
We walked through the humid early evening together; it wouldn t be dark until nine
or so.
 What are you going to make for dinner? he asked. That was probably more than he d
said in the whole time, and I took it.
 What do you feel like eating? Fortunately, food was the one thing I could count on to
make Jordie talk. He liked all kinds of things, and when he was in the market, he could be
easily distracted and talk whether he meant to or not.
 You feel like making some trout? he asked.  On the grill?
 Sure, I said.  Let s take a look. Sometimes it s been sitting in the case since the
floodwaters of Genesis receded. I felt happy just to be walking with him. There was no
denying he would always be my best friend or that I loved him as much today as I always
had. Love is a complex thing.
Jordie and I entered the air-conditioned store, and I almost groaned aloud at the
pleasure of that cool air hitting my skin. It smelled exactly as it always had, a little meaty, a
St. Nacho s 89
little like disinfectant, but now that it rented space to a chain java joint, it had the added
aroma of good coffee. We got the few nonperishables we needed first, an ingrained habit
with me. When you re used to walking to the store, you know what to get last and exactly
how long a pint of ice cream has before it melts.
I sent Jordie to choose the ice cream, and I went to get the fish. I found a whole trout
that didn t look or smell like my grandfather had caught it before he died, and I was coming
down the ice cream aisle when I saw Jordie coming toward me empty-handed.
 What kind of ice cream do you want? I asked.
 Never mind, he said lightly, but I could see he was holding his body rigid. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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