The Scab Collector (3/5)

Cody comes home to find me practicing guitar. I've probably been at it a few hours, then. Time seems to move differently when I play. It's a good way to take my mind off everything else.

He stands and watches until I stop. I can't tell if he's heard about me from Viv, or just wants me to pay attention to him. It could be either. He doesn't look mad. I watch him back for a few seconds and smile. He's one of those few blessed people who look good in anything, so it doesn't matter that he wears decrepit t-shirts for their softness and raggedy faded jeans when he's not in costume. His head of tight, dark curls that don't quite touch his shoulders and immaculate tawny skin do all the work for him, if his bright eyes and perfect cheekbones don't suck you in first.

“How'd the show go?”

Cody smiles a slow, cat-like smile. “They loved us. We added a cut scene back in, so I've got more lines. You should come see it again before it ends.”

Once was enough for me, but there's no need to tell him that.

Cody lets the smile go. “I talked to Viv.”

“He tell you what a cunt I am?”

Cody looks at the ceiling and half-smiles. “He says he's staying on the futon tonight.”

“Can't say I mind.”

Cody pouts. “I mind. What if I was going to sleep with him tonight instead of you? Would you even care?”

“Are you going to sleep on the futon with him?”

Cody doesn't answer my question, just keeps giving me that look. He usually finds a way to make things about him even when they don't start out that way. I'm used to it. He's not too much worse than Jody was.

“I'd care,” I say.

That gets a grin out of him. He's as easily-pleased as he is self-centered. I don't add that I'd get over it. That I don't mind when he sleeps with other people and doesn't do that by bringing them into our bed, even if it'll be weird when that happens in the same apartment we live in. I'm his husband, after all. Other partners won't shake our commitment to each other. But he knows all that, and it's not what he wants to hear right now.

He's still not saying anything, though.

“Are you sleeping on the futon tonight, or what?”

“No.” I guess he wanted me to ask twice. Now that he's gotten his wish, he starts stripping his clothes off. “Wanna shower with me?”

“I showered yesterday.” It's January, and I'm not going to spend any more time with wet hair than I have to. It's definitely too late to worry about combing it out, too. “Hurry up, though, okay?”

He hurries. In fifteen minutes, he's back, and I'm under the covers. The bowl from the pasta is still sitting on the floor, but I'm not going to get out of bed just to put it by the sink.

"You should tell him," he murmurs from behind me after we've gotten comfortable.

"Tell him what?" I know what he means, but that doesn't mean I'm going to make this conversation easy for him.

"Tell him how you know whatever's making you worry about him."

I don't tell him my theories. Cyril's none of his business, even if Cody's technically seen him. It might be best for him to think he made Cyril up. Or maybe the man in Cody's dream wasn't even Cyril. Maybe him and Cyril looking identical is a coincidence.

“Are you going to tell him?” Cody asks after a few minutes.

"I don't want to."

"I think you should."

"It won't go well."

"Why not?"

"He's not going to be happy when he hears some of the things I've seen."

"Better tell him sooner than later, then. You can't keep secrets forever."

I can certainly try.

<<>>

Cody and Cyril were at it again. This time it was—well, difficult to tell exactly where they were. Someplace dark and cramped, but with a bed. It could have been a tour bus. It had enough windows for that. But it could also have been a particularly cheap motel. Maybe a squat.

Joss was there with them, but they were ignoring him. Something wasn't right. His chest tightened with dread, but there wasn't much he could do except go back to sleep. None of this was right, though.

Oh, shit. Shit. They were back at the house they lived in when Joss first arrived in Chicago. If Tony heard Cyril and Cody, he'd be angry. He had an exam tomorrow, too.

Joss grabbed Cody's arm, but he only sighed contentedly. Then he seemed to notice Joss was there for the first time. Grinned. Tried to pull him closer. Joss tried to tell him to stop, but the words stuck in his mouth. He didn't let Cody pull him in, but it was a struggle. Cody looked so disappointed. Joss had to get up, just to be on the safe side. Maybe he should sleep in the living room—

Wait.

It shouldn't have been a living room. That was where he and Cody were already sleeping. The next room over was the dining room. Tony used it as a study.

The couch shrunk, and the area rug rose from the ground and sprouted piles of textbooks and folders. But it couldn't fool Joss. This was a dream.

It became much easier to move. When he went back into the room where Cyril and Cody were, they weren't on a fold out couch like before. It was their bedroom in the apartment they currently lived in.

Now the question was whether this was Joss's dream, or Cody's. He closed his eyes and tried to get rid of Cyril. He should have been able to do that, if it was his dream.

He felt a warm rush of air, but only against his face. There shouldn't have been a warm breeze in the apartment—

Cyril stood immediately in front of him. That wasn't a breeze. It was his breath. His eyes were wide open. Unnaturally so. He grabbed Joss's face. Joss screamed.

<<>>

And now I'm in bed. But am I awake?

Someone's behind me. Could be Cody. Could be Cyril. What if I'm dreaming? If I'm dreaming it's going to be Cyril. Fuck.

"Joss?" Cyril or Cody? Their voices don't sound all that different. Breathy and rich and on the high side for men, both of them.

It's Cody. I know it's Cody, but I'm still scared. "Are we awake?" I whisper.

Cody wraps his arm around me and pulls me against him. "We're awake." It helps, a little. "You okay?"

"Was I in your dream? Just now?"

Cody thinks about it for a few seconds. Tells me all I need to know. "I think so?"

“What happened?”

“Uh. I dunno. It was pretty hot for awhile, but then the guy who was screwing me got up and started kissing you instead. Might not have been so bad if we hadn't woken up right after. Oh, you were there before that, too. Was that actually you, or did I make that up? You were super not into it.”

“That was me.”

“Oh. Uh—sorry?”

“It's okay.” None of this is okay. I never kissed Cyril. Did Cody not hear me scream?

“You seem really shaken up.”

"That man you were fucking is from Viv's nightmares," I want to say, but don't. I can't tell Cody that. Not without telling Viv first. God, I want to tell someone. This is too much. "I need water." What I actually need is to get away from Cody before I spill Viv's beans. Maybe the water will help, too.

I'm so tired, but I stumble into the kitchen anyway. Maybe it would do me good to have the bed to myself every once in a while.

"Bad dream?"

Oh god. That's not Cody. It's not Viv, either. I know that voice. I must still be dreaming.

But I turn around anyway, and there he is: Jody, sitting at the table, looking as solid as ever.

“This can't be real,” I whisper.

Jody smirks. “Why not?”

“You died. I saw you. You died.”

Jody's expression fades into a more contemplative look. “So? You had a bad dream.” He shrugs after a few seconds of me staring and not saying anything. "There's no one else here to comfort you.”

“I miss you so much.” He's wearing those mustard-colored corduroy trousers he used to like, and a powder blue t-shirt so thin it's practically see-through in the right lighting. Too dark for that in the kitchen, though. He looks healthy. Alive. If this is a dream, when will the other shoe drop?”

He frowns. “Don't be like that. I'm here. You're going to be okay.”

“I didn't say anything.”

He snorts. “Like I can't read you like a book.”

“Why now?” I've had worse nights than this since Jody died. Why wait so long?

He shrugs. “You didn't need me. You knew what to do, even though it was hard.”

It was so hard. “They tried to set me up with Sadhu. Remember her?”

Jody peers at me. Smiles. Shakes his head.

“She was in my class. Had a crush on you, I think. Anyway, she'd just gotten out of rehab. Her parents wanted her to settle down. Our parents wanted me to settle down after what happened to you. They acted like bisexuality means—” Can't bring myself to say it. “—like it's a health hazard. Or synonymous with partying too hard.”

“Sounds like them.”

“Yeah. I know they meant well. I just—” I don't know how Jody will react to this. “—I can't bring myself to talk to them even now. It's been months. They must be so mad at me.”

“You don't have to talk to them if you don't want to. Not after what they did.”

They didn't really do anything that bad, though. Tried to find me a wife. Tried to make sure I got a good education. A family and a good job. That's all they really wanted for me. That's what happiness looks like to them. It worked for them. Why shouldn't it work for me?

Well. Jody always told me I wasn't stupid for hating school. If there was anything he'd want me to remember, it would probably be that. I can play guitar really well. I pick up songs like it's nothing, and I remember every single one. I can draw, too. All our friends love me.

Well, they were really Jody's friends more than mine. He always used to tell me that, though. That they all loved me. Maybe they did. Or maybe they loved Jody, and being nice to me was how they expressed it. Even after he died.

I haven't spoken to any of them, either. Maybe I should.

I doubt they'll care, though. I could post a status online. Haven't done that in forever. Maybe it'll get a few likes. Maybe someone will bother actually saying they're happy for me. Janet will probably find it and tell me how happy Mum is to hear I'm doing okay, or pass on some urgent question or another. No one will have anything of import to say to me, though. Any actual attempts at conversation will lead to nothing but awkwardness. It isn't worthwhile. It's not like I can visit any of them.

“Don't make that face,” Jody says.

Something's off about him. I can't bring myself to care, though. I just want to burn the sight of him like this into my mind. I thought I'd never see him again.

“Who are you talking to?”

It's Viv. He's standing in the doorway to the kitchen, squinting and disheveled. Jody is gone. It's like I blinked and he disappeared while my eyes were closed, except I didn't blink.

“No one,” I say.

Viv rubs his eyes for a moment. Then he just stands there, looking like he's about to fall asleep on his feet. Before turning around and heading back to the futon, he mumbles something, and it takes me a minute to figure out what: “Now who's lying?”

<<>>

I don't know how I feel when my alarm goes off. Kind of airy. Kind of weird. Part of me feels—I don't know how to describe it. Like there really is good in the world. It's a relief.

But the rest of me is certain that it's fake. It won't let me feel fully happy. It's like a rock in my stomach.

My stomach hurts.

Why can't I just be happy? I married my favorite boy in the world. (Other than Jody, I guess, but that's different.) I married him even though he lived an ocean away from me, and there was so much paperwork. If his dad hadn't left him a bunch of money from selling the house in San Francisco he raised Cody in—he bought it cheap, a few years before Cody was born, but now everything there is so expensive. Anyway, if he hadn't sold that house and split the money with Cody (because Cody was only eighteen, and his mom's dead, and his dad was moving to Peru and not taking Cody with him)—if San Francisco property prices hadn't soared—if Cody's sister hadn't studied at Oxford—none of this would have been possible. There were so many moving pieces involved, and yet, here I am.

I never thought of myself as having a future when I was a kid. Not that I thought I was going to die young or anything. I just couldn't imagine having an adult life. It only got harder the older I got. When I dropped out of school, I thought my parents would disown me. They didn't, but maybe I wreaked some sort of horrible magic on myself with how hard I believed it would happen. Maybe that's why I've practically disowned them.

But now isn't the time to be thinking like this. It's not enough that I'm awake. I have to get up.

I don't know how I'm going to function today.

<<>>

I still don't know how I've gotten through so much of the day. We close in two hours. That's three-quarters of my day out of the way. The owner's been in and out.

I can't stop thinking about whatever happened last night. Either it was a dream, or I hallucinated. Cody and Viv weren't up when I left for work. I've never hallucinated like that before. Sometimes I see fairies (in the loosest sense of the word) when I'm high, but I wasn't high, and I didn't see anything resembling the usual hallucinatory creatures. If there was a drug that would let me talk to Jody like that at will, I'd take it, no matter the side effects.

Was it stress? Was that why I saw him? I've been plenty stressed other times in the past couple years, though. Why now, and not then? I needed him even more when I was still figuring out what to do with my life.

I wish I'd had more time. I could have saved my money instead of spending so much of it on documentation fees. Found someone local to room with. If I'd wanted, I could have stayed in London without ever crossing paths with my parents unless I wanted to. That was exactly what Jody did. Or I could have stayed with my parents but refused to marry. They couldn't have made me marry anyone against my will.

I felt like they could, though. Or if they couldn't, they'd find some other way to ruin my life for good. So I panicked, and asked Cody to marry me. That was the way to move in with him legally. I thought if I didn't move in with him as quickly as possible, I'd lose him. I'd lose everything. The life I was living before Jody died, that I wanted to keep living, was running out like sand from the top of an hour glass. I had to do something big to flip it over or that would be it for me.

And I'm so much happier, living with Cody. But I also wonder where I'd be now if Mum and Dad would've just let me be after Jody died. All I really needed was space, but it was the one thing they didn't know how to give me. Jody knew when to leave me alone. He knew what to say when I felt lonely, too. The months when Cody visited and all three of us lived in Jody's apartment were the happiest in my life. Maybe eventually he could have moved to England.

Dangerous to think about the what-ifs too much. Maybe the life I wanted was never within reach. It's pointless to think about either way.

I'm going to go home and play some scales. Forcing myself to pay attention to something that easy and focus on technical skill usually keeps the what-ifs away. Keeps everything bad away. Maybe if I'm feeling better later I'll make my nani's dal recipe.

Ugh, but Viv will probably be there when I get home. He gets off an hour before I do today.

I liked him. Still do. I know he has good reason to be cagey about Cyril. And I knew he was struggling. I knew three of us in a one-bedroom flat would be crowded. But he'd been able to hang onto his diner job for two years, and I liked being around him, so I told myself neither of those things would be an issue. I looked forward to seeing more of him. Being with him and Cody at the same time feels like having a family again.

<<>>

“Joss?”

Hearing Viv pounding on the door like that while I'm practicing makes me want to choke myself with one of my own guitar strings. Maybe if I just acknowledge his presence he'll shut up. “I'm practicing,” I tell him.

“Can I come in?”

“No!”

Nothing. I think he's given up.

God fucking damnit. He opened the door after I specifically told him he couldn't come in. What the fuck. “What did I just tell you?”

He winces but closes the door behind him, then sits on the bed. I never said he could sit on the bed. I told him not to come in here.

“Sorry, it's just—I saw you talking to a—” He genuinely doesn't know how to word it. Maybe I can tell from the way he paused, maybe I just know. Maybe it's the way he's kicking the bed and bouncing the heel of his hand against his thigh. Let him struggle. “Look, whoever you were talking to last night, he's dangerous. Okay? Don't talk to him again.”

And how the fuck would he know? “Who do you think I was talking to?”

“I—” Viv stops. Squeezes his eyes shut. Lets out a grumbly sigh. “I don't need to know who you think you were talking to, and you don't need to know who it was. Just—don't talk to him again, okay? It's not safe.”

“Oh. I see. All hail the all-knowing Vivian, for he knows what I saw with my own two eyes better than I do. Got it. Thanks. May I resume my practicing now?”

He pulls his knees to his chest and hides his face behind them. “You don't know what you're talking about,” he whispers.

Then I remember how this is probably exactly what I was trying to get out of him yesterday. Fantastic timing. But I suppose I'll live even if I don't keep expressing my resentment at being interrupted. "Then tell me."

Viv shakes his head. "You won't believe me."

I think he might be crying. "Try me."