Fix My Feet When They're Stumblin'

Chapter 69

    As Ronnie meandered in slow, aimless laps around the hallway, deep in thought, his phone vibrated, announcing that it was time for new doses of two of Brandon's medications. He continued through the halls into the kitchen, falling into the bench at the oaken breakfast nook and fumbling inside his pocket for the phone, silencing it.

    Tana greeted him quietly from the stove, her hair tied back in a high bun while she salted a pot of water.

    "Are you hungry? I'm making lunch, the kids claim they're starving." She winked at him and he smiled back, but shook his head.

    "Nah, I'm good. I'll ask B, but I'm gonna bet he'll say no."

    "Yeah, he doesn't eat much right now. I wish he would, I swear he's lost weight since the accident," Tana sighed, rubbing fatigue from her eyes and leaning against the counter to contemplate the bubbles' ascent in the hot water. Ronnie watched her, drawing circles on the table with his finger.

     "Tan - I guess it's probably not my place, but...are you okay? This has been a real goddamn nightmare, hasn't it?"

     A thin, wry smile lifted her lips, but she didn't look up from the stove.

     "Oh, fine. I'm fine...my brain didn't get bashed to a pulp, Ronnie. I'm fine."

     "You know that's not what I mean."

     Tana's shoulders stiffened visibly, her back still to him. Sighing again, she picked up a spoon and stirred the water idly.

     "Yes, I know what you mean, Ronnie," she said shortly. "I'll be fine. Thank you. Things will get easier. It...he's still here. That helps."

     It doesn't help him, though. He opened his mouth, pondering the wisdom of breaking his word to Brandon, but she spoke again, her voice infused with false cheer.

     "Hey, you were going to try the piano again today - how did it go?" she asked, turning slightly from the stove to look hopefully at Ronnie.

     The drummer grunted in reply, leaning down and furiously attempting to scratch the dry, itchy skin beneath his cast.

    "He couldn't do it. Wouldn't even go in...I think maybe he was having a bit of a panic attack or something. I don't know, but...he's really upset. He asked me to leave him alone for a minute - insisted, really - so I thought I should come get his pills that are due, anyway...while I've been kicked out."

    His lips twisted sardonically at the end, and he watched his friend's wife deflate, the hope fading from her like air from a balloon.

    "Damn it...how come? When he did it with us...I mean, he was obviously really scared, but...he was deadset on trying, at least. I was really hoping playing would make him feel better. I thought...since he's just had a nap, he'd be fresh and rested and it would be okay."

    Ronnie shrugged, tipping two of Brandon's pill bottles to dispense their contents into his palm and accepting a tiny plastic pill box and small metal water bottle from Tana, complete with a straw lid.

    "That's Gunny's water bottle for when we go hiking, but...well, it won't get much use anymore and I don't think he would mind," she said quietly, brushing the metallic bottle with her fingers before returning to the stove.

    "Thanks - that's what I asked him; he'd already played it once, so this should've been easier, right? Maybe because he was already having a bad day, with breaking the glass this morning. But I didn't get much out of him about why, or what happened, actually. He wasn't really up for talking.