To Love And Be Loved

Chapter 41

"Victor?"

He knew where he was and he didn't. It was like being stuck in a pack of ice and burning up at the same time. He recognized the ceramic he was laying on, the rush of water filling his ears and the cold liquid that he seemed to be submerged in. He was in the bathtub.

"Are you okay?"

Opening his eyes seemed like the hardest thing in the world. His eyelids fluttered and the harsh glare of the bathroom light hit his eyes. He groaned and closed them immediately as the hissing sound seemed to increase. His mouth was dry, like a truckload of dust had been dumped in it.

"I'm coming in," said the voice.

He heard the door knob jiggle and the door open with a sloshing sound that meant there was a ton of water on the floor. There was a moment of silence where he wondered if he had imagined the voice and the rush of water and his whole body. Then he managed to pry his eyes open. A round face with a buzzcut stood before him, accompanied by the scent of wildflowers. Sam

"Shit," said Sam.

He closed his eyes and felt warm hands raise his hands out of the water and press into his neck. The hands wrapped around his shoulders and together they tumbled to the colder floor.

He heard Sam turning the tap off and removing the drain at the end of the bathroom and the gurgling sound of water escaping. He was completely soaked and colder, almost shivering, now that he was out of the water. After a while the only sounds left was the water dripping from Sam.

"Victor," he said.

Victor finally opened his eyes, Sam was staring at him with a pained look on his face, the needle in his hands. He managed a smile. "Miss me already?"

"Damn it. You told me you were clean." Sam threw the needle on the floor and put his head in his hands. He whirled and Victor saw his hand too late before it connected with his face. His head cleared immediately after the stinging slap.

"Damn you, Victor. Damn you."

Victor bit his lip and tried to quench the guilt consuming his chest. "I bailed on rehab. I spent only two weeks."

"You of all people should know the shit this thing does to you," said Sam, his voice breaking.

Victor stared at his arm. The track marks were red. He suddenly remembered what Cass had said to him about his scars not being what defined him. But now they were all he was. A drug addict who relapsed. He fought back a wave of nausea as he tried to sit up.

"This thing killed Will and if you really had loved him you wouldn't spoil his memory with this," said Sam.

A small breath of air escaped his lips as Sam's words stung him. "How do you do it?" he asked.

"I just live, Vic. I dont push people away. I dont party and drink and punish myself all in the hopes of forgetting. I just deal with things as they happen."

Victor closed his eyes. He could hear Will playing the piano. The Will that never cut his hair. The Will with magic in his fingers. But there wasn't any Will in the present nor would there be in the future. The equation wasn't balanced. "And does it go?"

Sam stared at him for a while, his arms dripping cold water onto the white floor. He nodded several times before replying. "Yes," he said. "It goes... eventually."

The syringe was lying right where he had dropped it, the needle silently winking in the toilet light. Victor was horrified and bitter. He couldn't believe what he had done.

"I always thought you'd be the one who'd end up in trouble or die," said Sam. He rubbed his eyes and sat next to him. He looked so frail and tired that Victor felt a ton of guilt hit his chest, he had been so mired in his life that he'd forgotten about Sam. "You've always been so reckless and carefree and sometimes it seemed like the only person you ever cared about was Will. I always imagined that one day we'd get the news that you died of an overdose or drunk driving or... "

Sam stopped and when Victor turned to look at him - still crosslegged on the bathroom floor - his eyes were shiny. Sam blinked and a tear shot down his face. A single tear, fast and shiny, like Mercury on glass. "Will didnt deserve to die. He didn't deserve that fate." Then silently, he added, "It should have been you."

Victor laid his head back on the cold floor and let the tears that was stinging his eyes fall unbidden. Sam's words hurt him, stung him, like a million bee stings. But what hurt the most was that it was the truth; Will didn't deserve that death, it should have been him. "It should have been me," he said. His voice, a hoarse whisper.

After a moment's silence, Sam spoke. "No, no," he said. "Don't say that. I'm sorry I said that."

Victor sniffed. His arm was stinging badly. The site of dozens of heroine doses stinging from memory. "Why does it have to be so hard?"

"That question is meant for you."

Victor shook his head. Maybe he was just broken. Too broken to be fixed. He thought of the girls he had gone out with before and how not a single one of them was Cass. He closed his eyes. "I broke up with the girl."

"You did?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"She was... We were different. It was going to be a disaster."

"Really? You must have really loved her."

Victor frowned. "I don't know."

"You called things off because you actually cared. That's good, I guess."

"Is it? I feel like shit."

"We all do things we don't like and sometimes they are the best decisions."

"I've not made many good decisions in my life. How is this any different?"

"You made those decisions because your dick was dragging your brain along with it."

Victor chuckled. The water had almost completely seeped off his jeans and his T-shirt was half dry. "We never had sex. She was just so... delicate. Sometimes, I was scared of touching her because she felt so fragile. I was afraid I might -"

Sam laughed. "Victor is actually thinking with his head. Its good that you cared so much about her. Catherine would be jealous."

Victor twisted his face into a grimace. "She's gone, Catherine is gone. But she is a million times better than Catherine."

Sam nodded and stretched his legs. "I was coming to tell you I would be travelling and seeing you in this state you should come with me. You obviously need some time alone with your thoughts."

"Where to?"

"Jos. I want to go see mum."

Victor swallowed. "I can't. I... I just... I can't face her."

"You're also her son. You lived under her roof for three years. She'll never hate you. I know she wants to see you."

"Maybe. Maybe one day."

Sam nodded. "Maybe," he said. He stood and stretched his arms above his head.

"Will you come back?"

Sam slowly trudged towards the door, kicking the syringe on his way. He placed his hand on the door knob and turned. "I don't know," he said.

"I'll be here, all alone. I hope I don't burn the world down. Wish me luck."

"Luck," Sam scoffed softly. "There's no luck. Its all been preordained. You just pray to the Lord to guide your feet."

"My feet have taken me to rough places."

Sam pulled the door open and Victor could see the painting on the far end of the wall outside. "Some things change," said Sam. "Take care of yourself." The door closed behind him.