Miss Yourself

Chasing Zipper Hoodies

Nick's POV:
Liking things other people like has always come easy for me. For Charlie... not so much. Here it is six A.M. and we're sitting at this cozy little bar top in the house's first floor foyer. There's like fifty bottles of wine in a wooden wall on the other side and I'm on a second bowl of Lucky Charms. Charlie doesn't want food, he just wants to open one of the bottles.
I did ask if he wants to go sit somewhere else for breakfast. He refused. He's only nibbled off a corner of toast.
The maid cooked for us; Claire is her name I think. Imogen passed out in her eggs and went up stairs to take a shower. Knowing her she's probably asleep in there too. Everything feels so far away from me. Like I'm vibrating and everything else is still. Solid in a frozen state but not cold. I don't know, perhaps it's just the trauma.
I haven't even really been through anything. I only watched some guy get shot in another car. Charlie and Imogen both watched their best friends get murdered. I wish there was news. Any news about home. I'm itchy.
"Charlie?" I ask.
He mutters back a soft, "Hm?"
"We've been here a couple days now... we haven't talked about what happened." I say.
He looks over at me with those big puppy eyes and sighs, "You need to talk about it?"
I want to remind him that we both do but that's difficult when someone you love already has mental illness. He's traumatized, we both are perhaps. So I only nod.
"I'll make you a deal." He says, "You get me one of your zip-up hoodies... crack open a bottle of moscoto... and pour us both a glass... I'll talk."
"You haven't eaten, Char. Drinking on an empty stomach might make you sick." I whisper.
He finishes a piece of toast and smiles at me. I can't argue with that.
So I slide off the stool and stalk lingerly around tall potted plants and hanging vines. With my feet bare I shuffle across the carpet of the sunroom. Things here are clean and it's nice but I'm on my toes as I fear the worst. When I pass through the main corridor I pause at the grand study. Inside is an anxious Kendall Knight. He's typing away viciously at his computer and his knee is shaking like one does when they're stressed about something subconciously.
He comes up short, both hands hovering above his keyboard, the knee stops shaking, and he looks at me. He takes a deep breath to steady himself and speaks firmly, "Mr. Nelson. How are you holding up?"
Americans are so strange in their greetings, "All right. You?"
"My friend... you remember Tommy... you haven't see him have you?" He asks me.
I shake my head, "I'm afraid not. Is every thing okay?"
"It should be. If my worries persist I'll counsel with another adult. My problems aren't for you to concern yourself with." He's different than other Americans though, more patient with his words I think.
He's not okay, though. I haven't been much help.
"I appreciate what you're doing for Charlie. I'm glad it didn't cost you your job." I say, attempting politeness with him isn't easy for me but I don't want to add to his stress.
He nods, "I'm expecting a call today... about your province. Whatever news I have I'll deliver."
I press my lips together and tilt my head down to show that I can't talk about that with him. Then I turn and continue on my way down the corridor. The grand staircase comes into view and I begin to climb. As I find the second floor I'm having to open a glass door out to the balcony. The staircase wraps around the house and ventures back through. Out here are rocking chairs, hanging hammocks, and a railing to keep people from falling off. It's a big place with big open space. All designed, I'm sure, by the master of the house. For a rich guys he doesn't seem particularly interested in shiny or lavish things. He's prioritizing peace.
Out there, in the distance, a car is coming up the driveway. It's not the driver who takes us to and from the city, nor does it belong to any of the help. Perhaps it's one of Mr. Knight's friends. I reenter the actual house at the end of the balcony of the second floor and immediately climb the next step to get to the third floor. I turn to the landing.
Six guest rooms are here. Two bathrooms (one for the north side and one for the south). And there's a common room by the northside bathroom. I hear the water running in the bathroom to the south and I know Imogen is in there. I figure I'll leave her be for now. She probably needs the solitude. I go to the room I share with Charlie and find Henry with Nelly sleeping in the light coming in from the window on the made up bed. They don't notice I'm here and I'm quiet as I open the closet and shift through the clothes I have hanging up looking for the blue hoodie Charlie likes.
I can't find it so I just select the green one. Then a heavy noise gets all our attention.
I look out into the landing and see that across the staircase is the shut door to the bathroom where Imogen is. That's where the sound came from. I go to knock on the door and I don't hear an answer so I just open it. She's there, lying on the floor, unconcious.
I mutter something unintellegable that was supposed to be her name but my brain processed information out of surprise and so it just came out as a garbled mess and I grabbed a towel to secure her modesty before I shut off the water. She's scratched her head and so there's a little blood on her face. I grab her by her shoulders and turn her to face me ensuring that the towel wraps around her body and I say her name, "Imogen. Imogen, can you hear me."
She wakes up crying. Her whole body begins to shiver and she sobs into my shoulder. I let her.
"She's dead, Nick. They're dead. All of them." She's hysterical.
I try, "No. Stop that. We don't know for sure."
"I watched them Nick Nelson. I watched them shoot her. I was on my knees right beside her. She's dead, Tao's dead. They've probably killed Issac and Elle. There's nothing left." She pulls away from me and I shake her a bit.
"Imogen Haney. You stop that right now!" I use that authoritarian voice my mother uses when I'm being unresonable, "You know damn well that our friends are resiliant and so are you. We can't change the past but we can't pretend things have happened when we don't know for sure. You're tired, you've been through a lot, and you need rest. So I'm going to take you back to your room and you're going to do just that. You can try again tomorrow."
She's sobbing but nodding her head and I know she understands me.
Once I've got her tucked beneath the white sheets and the blue comforter she rolls to face the window that overlooks the dip in the mountain forest. Out there is that teal hue of the silver in a new day and ever green of wildlife and she finds comfort in that. I shut her light off as I leave pull the door shut.
I grab the green zipper hoodie off the railing of the staircase on the landing and return downstairs.
When I arrive Charlie's exactly where I left him. Sound doesn't travel well here, he's totally unfased and seems like I just took my time. I don't bother him with the details but I do explain that Imogen has gone back to bed for the day. I hand him the hoodie and he pulls it on over his thin white shirt. Once he's in it's warmth he seems to let his guard down.
I do as I promised and step behind the bar to fetch a bottle of wine and two glasses. As I uncork it and pour the first glass a door bell rings. I look up at him. He looks back at me. We both shrug and I pour the second glass. Together we step over to peer down the corridor at the front door where Mr. Knight stands looking back at us before he opens it.
Two people stand on the otherside. One is his friend Tommy. The other is a friend of ours.