You Awoke With A Start {COMPLETED}

CHAPTER II: Into Oblivion

Chapter Two: Into Oblivion

Nicole's funeral was the hardest thing you ever had to do. She had no family, she was like you. Aiden was still in the hospital and you knew it would be too hard for him to plan on his own. There wasn't much you could afford, she had no insurance and you had no savings. Things still worked out, eventually. A small church that holds about fifty people let you have a service for $200. Only four others showed up, two of which left after discovering Nicole had left all of her belongings to you and Aiden.

Aiden's uncle got him a make-shift wheelchair, and you couldn't believe how defeated your old friend looked sitting in it. His eyes sunk deep in his head and he didn't talk much anymore. Something else changed, but you could never quite figure out what it was. You thought it could have been the scowl that always twisted his face, maybe the way he didn't take care of himself anymore, he didn't shave or cut his hair and you tried to joke and call him Russell Crowe, but he found no humor in it. Neither of you really had a willingness to laugh after Nicole died, but Aiden simply had nothing.

You caught him crying one day, a picture of him and Nicole in St. Louis clasped in his hand. You'd never seen him cry before, his sobs were rough and raspy as if he had no voice and his eyes were closed so tightly you feared he'd crush them.

"Aiden," you said softly, announcing your presence.

"Get out," he spat, one arm on the doorknob as he pulled it austerely back and slammed it in your face.

That's how things went until you moved out six months later. You left the closest thing you had to family, again. You quit your current job and started working at a small time bookstore that Aiden's old friend owned. He let you sleep there, but it didn't count as overtime.

For a long time, you wanted to commit suicide.

You were sitting in one of the isles one weekend, a castle of Tim O'Brien and Joseph Heller books surrounding you. You really liked war novels. You'd closed the store a little early, but no one ever came in on Saturday nights, so it didn't matter anyway. Aiden gave you an old Nevermind record as a parting gift and you finally put it to good use. Putting down the needle and adjusting the sound, you finally understood why Aiden thought they came in better than CD's. There was a sharp knock on the front door and you wait, confused for a moment, wondering how crazy someone had to be to be out in the thunderstorm tonight. The knocks proceed and you stand with a groan and hobble over to unlock it (which, now you know wasn't the smartest thing to do). Drenched, with a soaking paperback clutched to his chest, was Aiden.

You're body stilled and your brows knitted up in confusion. Why was he there? He hadn't read a book in his life that didn't have naked women on every other page.

"The longer you stand there, the wetter this book's gonna get," he said simply.

Pulling out of your haze, you stepped aside and ushered your old friend inside. You still weren't quite used to the way he had to spin around in the chair and roll backward into places with a thick doormat. You closed the door behind him and took a moment to breathe out the nerves.

When you turned back around, you saw Aiden pushing a copy of The Things They Carried out to you. You looked to the book then back up to your friend. Had you forgotten it?

"I, uh, found it under the couch," he said as you accepted the soaking book. It was ruined, no doubt, but that wasn't what you were worried about at the moment. Aiden was shaking.

"Are you alright?" You asked.
"I don't know."
"Well, man you're shaking."
"Yeah. Doc says I have an early stage of Parkinson's."

His words hit you like a punch in the face.