Forest of Rope

Chapter 9

'About time you woke up. You feeling any better?'

Riley didn't answer at first because he had to ask himself if he really did feel any change since he arrived.

'Lots,' he eventually lied. If anything he felt worse.

He had just sank into his father's old smoking chair with a mug of hot cocoa. The chair's inherent smell of smoke and tobacco served as a comforting distraction from his relentless daymares.

'Well that's a relief, you didn't look too pretty yesterday.'

Riley looked across the living room at Tracey Steward who reclined in a similar position on the couch. Her eyes were directed at the television but Riley knew she wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention to it.

'I was worried about you,' Tracey continued, eyes still fixed on the screen. 'I thought about calling a doctor.'

Riley flinched at her words.

'I'm glad you didn't,' he murmured, picking his chewed fingernails against the tatty arms of the chair. A silence went between them, an awkward quiet filled only with the sounds of the TV and in specifically Riley's case the chattering whispers at the back of his mind.

'Do you wanna talk about it?' Tracey's soft voice pierced through the apparitions, as warm and comforting as the steaming cocoa in his hands. He couldn't stop himself from smiling at her offer, he'd played this conversation over and over in his head on the train coming up and knew just what she'd say. She hadn't changed at all, he wondered if he had.

Tracey was an unapologetically middle-aged woman, marked with telling wrinkles, greying hair and outdated clothing. She seemed to be his one and only link to the sane world. A link he cherished more than she could ever know, even if he never made the effort to call or visit.

'I don't know,' Riley replied uncertainly. 'What can I say?'

'Say anything,' she pleaded, going as far to turn away from the TV to let him know that she meant business. Riley stuttered, unable to function properly when put directly on the spot. How could he possibly explain? Least of all to her?

'I-I guess... I just couldn't stay, with Her I mean... It, got a lot harder.'

Riley took a big swig of cocoa to steady his nerves, a moustache of warm chocolatey syrup imprinted on his bitten lips.

'And I suppose, she'll find someone else. Someone who understands her, who can help her.'

'That girl was beyond help before you even met her,' Tracey cut in, if a little bluntly. Riley said nothing, sensing another lecture.

'For years I told you she was no good for you, but you never listened. It's only now that you understand.'

'I've always understood,' Riley protested after another silent period. 'But I didn't care. I...'  

He faltered, his lips unable to form the words.

'I thought I...' he trailed off.

Riley?

'Let's talk about something else,' Tracey immediately changed subjects, much to Riley's gratitude.

'How about you build an old girl a fire?' she suggested, hinting towards the empty grate in the corner of the room. Riley nodded compliantly, getting back to his feet despite his tiredness.

'Whatever you say Tracey,' he murmured as he stepped incautiously into his trainers, forcing his feet past the rubber soles.

A low groan filled the room.