The Scab Collector (4/5)

He shakes his head again and hugs his knees tighter, but doesn't say anything. Definitely crying.

“If you don't trust me enough to tell me why I shouldn't talk to my own brother, why should I trust your advice in the first place?”

Viv freezes. He was rocking a little before. Now he's not and it's spooky. I wish he'd leave me in peace. “Your brother?” he asks.

“That's what I saw, at any rate.”

“Ohhhhh, no no no no no—” he mutters, mashing his head against his knees. “Fuck. This is bad. Fuck.”

“Why's that bad?”

“That's your dead brother, right?”

“Rub it in, why don't you.” He's never brought up my family in conversation before. Now I wonder if Cody had something to do with that.

“I didn't know he could do that. Look, just—just trust me when I say that what you saw last night wasn't your brother.”

“What was it, then?”

He looks up to frown at me. "Why don't you tell me?"

What? Why am I the one being interrogated? "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I'm not sure you're telling me everything you know."

It's true, but surely not in the way he thinks. "No. You tell me who you think I was talking to first." Shit. I just committed to telling him about my telepathy, didn't I?

Viv sighs. "I—I can't. I might have it wrong. It might just be—paranoia. I need you to tell me what you know, because I can't trust what I—what I'm thinking. I can explain it so it'll make sense later, but I need to hear your version first."

"You might have it wrong, but it definitely wasn't my brother?"

"I'm not wrong about that part."

He sounds certain of that, at least. "Okay. Fine. Those scars?" I poke his wrist. "You didn't do that. A man named Cyril did that. He was waiting for you in the bathtub after you went to a concert when you were a kid. Or at least, that was what was in your nightmare. How close am I?"

Viv stares at the wall. "He wasn't lying, then. You can see my dreams."

He told Viv I could see him? Why didn't I think of that? "Yeah."

"You can see my dreams, but you didn't tell me. You tried to just—make use of what you learned from them, without me knowing how you learned it."

Is he mad? It's hard to tell. Maybe I only expect him to be mad. "Can you blame me?"

He thinks for a moment, then shakes his head. "I didn't want to tell you about Cyril, either—wait, no. I can't prove Cyril exists without him cooperating. You can prove you're telepathic by telling me what you saw. You couldn't have known that, otherwise. Unless Cyril told you? But if that were the case, why would you lie? You wouldn't outright lie to me, right?"

I can't think of any outright lies I've told. "No." I suppose now all I can do is be extra careful about it.

"But it took you practically a year to tell me you can see my dreams."

What do I need to say to get him to forgive me? Does he even see this as requiring forgiveness from him? Or am I overreacting? "Yeah. I didn't want to scare you. I don't usually tell anyone. I told Cody because his dreams were filthy and I wanted to tell him what I thought of them." That would have gotten a laugh in any other conversation. "My brother worked it out on his own, before I was even sure what I was seeing. They were the only ones who knew. I thought about telling you, too, but before I could, the dreams just got worse and worse. I was afraid of making you angry."

"Were you looking on purpose?"

"No. I do it in my sleep. It's not really something I can control. And when I'm awake, it's hard to tell the difference between other people's thoughts and my own."

"Okay," Viv says. "That's fair. Anything else you want to tell me?"

If I tell him that Cyril's starting to show up in Cody's dreams, that might lead to me telling Viv what's going on in those dreams. I don't think I should do that without asking Cody first. "No."

<<>>

That night, Joss got up to use the bathroom and came back to the sight of his brother leaning against the bedroom door. "Jody?"

He flashed one of his typical Jody grins at Joss without a word.

The silence was unlike him, but Joss had missed that smile so much. “What are you doing here?”

Jody's gaze flickered shyly. That was also unlike him. “I just wanted to talk again.”

Again. This had happened before.

Something was wrong. What happened before?

Jody tipped his head to one side. “Don't be like that.”

The truth felt like a heavy pendulum smacking into the back of Joss's head. He had to stay calm. Maybe it wasn't Cyril. He certainly looked like Jody: shoulder-length bleached hair, playful eyes, muscular—no, actually, his arms were a bit leaner than Joss remembered. More like Cody's. He wasn't wearing pastels, either. In fact, when Joss really looked, his clothes seemed more washed-out than anything. Then again, looking at him closely was hard. Maybe he was Jody. Maybe he wasn't.

No. If he were Jody, there would be no mistaking him for someone else. "You hurt Viv."

Cyril shrugged. “Viv wanted to be hurt.”

Joss knew what he meant. It was kind of true. But it also wasn't. Cyril worded that sentence conveniently. “What do you want?”

Another shrug. “It'd be nice to get to know you better. Since we're roommates and all now.”

Joss remembered what he'd seen in Cody's dreams. “No. Sorry, no.”

Cyril pouted. “We can just talk.”

“We already are. Guess you got what you wanted, then.”

<<>>

Fuck. Now he's in my dreams, too. My actual dreams, not just other people's dreams I happen to see. I can't believe I gave him so much benefit of the doubt. Viv wanted to be almost murdered, my ass. And what did he mean by “roommates”? He doesn't pay rent. He didn't even ask to live with us. Makes him more of a squatter, at best.

It's ten minutes before I'm supposed to wake up for work. If I stay in bed, I might fall asleep and have a harder time getting up. Worse, I might land right back in a dream with Cyril in it. I feel cheated.

By 4:15 in the afternoon, I'm not feeling any better. In fact, I'm backsliding. Someone's heading for the register with an armload of clothes. She's not thin like Jody was, but she looks similar enough. Probably Indian, with shoulder-length bleached hair and dark roots peeking through at her part. The kind of makeup that would have looked good on him, if he'd been one for wearing makeup on a regular basis. She's nearly as tall as he was, too.

I can't cry. I will not be the creepy cashier who randomly weeps on customers. Frank's not here to see, but I could still get a bad reputation.

She has the same taste in clothes as Jody. Pastels, plus a creamy soft blouse made of thin fabric that would have draped perfectly on his frame. It'll look good on her, too. This is a good haul. She has an eye for quality. I fumble with the price tags. Fuck it. I have to get her out of here, now. “Twenty dollars,” I say.

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Uh—I think you're mistaken. These definitely add up to more than twenty—”

I don't have the right to sell these for less. It's not my choice to make. They don't even trust me to price things because the first time I tried I was still thinking in pounds. I have to get this woman out of here. “It's fine. Twenty.”

She hesitates. “Okay.” Her smile looks nothing like Jody's. That should help, but it only makes me want to cry more. “Thanks!”

“Have a nice day,” I manage. Then I flee to the back room before I can see whether anyone else is waiting and sit like a magnet is dragging my back down the wall until I'm on the floor, hiding my eyes behind my arms. I hear an “Excuse me?” or two, but ignore them. I can't go out there right now. I'm so glad Frank's not here.

A little while later—five minutes? Half an hour?—I hear an “Are you okay?” from above. All I see of Leah are her combat boots and black leggings because I can't bring myself to look up. They look a lot like Viv's, but with pyramid-studded straps instead of decorative buckles. That's probably the only difference. I wonder if they ordered them at the same time. That seems like something they'd have done.

“Fine,” I murmur.

“No, you're not.” I can just about hear her shaking her head at me. “I'll close, okay? You may as well go home if you're too whatever to check people out.”

She's too kind. I don't even deserve the distance she's giving me and my stupid reasons for not doing my damn job. I'm getting back shreds of dignity I didn't have to begin with.

“What do you want me to do, throw in a burrito from La Misma Luna?”

Right. I should get moving. I touch her shoulder without thinking until it's too late and manage a pathetic, raspy “thank you” on my way out. It's bad enough that inanimate objects threaten to get this reaction out of me. Now I have to avoid people, too? What if I start seeing Jody in everyone? It's been two years. More than two years. I should be over all this by now.

Normally when I get off work, the sun has just set. Now the last wisps of daylight make me feel guilty. I know I shouldn't be out here yet. But I also know I'll go back to being useless if I walk back into that store. Perhaps I'd wither away completely from sheer embarrassment. The feeling of wrongness doesn't go away until I'm almost at the apartment. By then, it's the kind of dark that only looks light when you were outside in the daylight and haven't seen the sky from inside a lit room. It's close enough to the darkness I'd expect as I walk home that I've almost forgotten I'm here forty-five minutes early.

The smell of burning flesh greets me when I open our door. I hope Viv isn't trying to cook—

Oh god, that is not what I meant by Viv cooking. He's just—he's just standing there in front of the stove, and he—his head—

I can hear his cheek sizzling against the burner. He's leaning over with his head right on top of a lit burner, and he's not moving, he's not even looking at me, or probably anything. He's just standing there. He's standing there and burning his cheek and I think his hair's burning, too, and he has this glassy dead-eyed stare. Is he dead? He looks like he could be dead, but then what's propping him up? How did he—

I hear the toilet flush. Suddenly, there's no one standing in front of the stove, or anywhere else in the kitchen. The stove isn't even on. "Viv?"

"Yeah?"

Maybe that was a warning. Maybe I shouldn't tell him about it. "Nothing."

<<>>

Then Joss woke up, ten minutes before his alarm was supposed to go off. It wasn't fair. Nonetheless, he dragged himself out of bed, and stayed at work until his shift ended without humiliating himself. Came home well before Viv and Cody. He wasn't hungry yet, and if he waited to make dinner, the food would be warm for the other two. So he went to the bedroom to play guitar.

Oh no—

He slammed the door shut, counted to twenty (well, he tried to count to twenty), then opened it again.

Cyril was still standing just inside the doorway. "Rude."

"Fuck off," Joss told him.

Cyril took hold of his shirt collar and pulled him toward the bed. "You might not like how I interpret that."

Joss grabbed Cyril's hands and pried his fingers off his shirt collar, one by one.

Cyril sat on the edge of the bed and pouted. "You're no fun."

Sitting where Cyril was sitting got rid of him last summer when Viv was napping, so Joss tried it again. To his horror, he landed in Cyril's lap.

"I take it back." Cyril wrapped one arm around Joss and pushed his hair aside with his free hand. Then he licked Joss's neck. "This could be loads of fun." His grip tightened around Joss's arms and waist.

The feeling of Cyril's bulge against his ass turned Joss's stomach. "Let go of me."

Cyril's teeth skimmed against his jaw. "Why? We're having fun."

"No. We're not."

"Why not? You don't still think I'm your brother, do you?"

"Trust me, this is worse."

The sound of Cyril chuckling was mortifying. "What, did Jody leave you with some unexpressed feelings? Did you wish you could've done something like this with him?"

"Absolutely not. The fact that you're worse than incest should tell you something."

Cyril licked Joss's earlobe, then sucked on it hard. "Why don't we roleplay a little? I'll be him, you be you. It'll be almost as good as the real thing."

"Get off me!" Joss bellowed. He hated the sound of his voice when he yelled. Easier to pretend it wasn't so deep if he spoke softly.

"I'm not on you, silly." He could feel Cyril's teeth on his ear. "You're on me. You sat on my lap all on your own—"

"Joss!"

How long had Viv been in the room?

"Joss, you're dreaming. You can wake up from this. Wake up—"

<<>>

I wake up. Viv's on the futon. Neither of us really wants to sleep with the other now that we both know what I can see, though the distance doesn't seem to be helping. I'm afraid to check on him, but I can hardly ignore the possibility that Cyril's switched to tormenting him, can I? So I get up and open the bedroom door.

At first, he looks fine. Awake, but fine. Then I notice the person-sized lump under the blanket behind him, and the arm draped over his stomach. "Viv?"

Viv makes eye contact with me, then rolls over. It's hard to gauge his exact feelings. Cyril's hand curls around the back of Viv's head as they kiss. The words "he'll always be mine" come to my mind, in Cyril's voice. I close the door. Viv didn't look or sound like he was putting up a fight.

Is that what this was about the whole time? Cyril being possessive and trying to drive us away? Or at least, drive me away. He doesn't seen to mind Cody, so far. Maybe he just wants me out of the way first, since I know what he is. Or at least, I know he's not a figment of my imagination. What if he's a figment of Viv's?

No. That's what he'd want me to think, isn't it?

I remember the way Viv regarded him in the nightmare. He was afraid, but he was attracted, too. Would he pick Cyril over us, if we pressured him? I keep saying "we" and "us."

They're still out there, and I'm still standing, just behind the closed bedroom door. I don't think I'll be able to go back to sleep. It's three in the morning. Fuck it. Cyril has to go.

Before I can open the door, I hear a knock. The sound terrifies me, but I open the door anyway. It's only Viv on the other side. "Got tired of sleeping with the enemy?" I say before thinking better of it.

Viv chuckles. "I talked him into being quiet for a little while. You're welcome."

"So that's what we do? He acts up, we pacify him?"

"I pacify him so you don't have to. Confronting him outright never works, trust me. It's exactly what he wants you to do."

"Hmm." Cody made that sound in his sleep, but he won't stay that way if we keep talking. He might not stay that way if he notices I'm missing, either.

Viv points at the bed. "Can I?"

I assume he means sleep with us. Or at least, lay quietly in the dark with us until my alarm goes off. "Fine." I shouldn't feel calmer holding him since Cyril's never present when he isn't. But I do. Not quite enough to go back to sleep. But still. It's something. After I've woken up and gotten washed up for work, I find Viv making toast in the kitchen. Generous of him, since he treasures time in bed so much even when he can't sleep, and he doesn't have to get up for work for another two hours.

We're midway through breakfast by the time either of us says anything. "Cyril drove Leah away. I don't want that to happen with you and Cody, too," he says.

"Do you love Cyril?" I ask.

He scrunches up his face like he's in pain. "I don't know. I'm used to him. He's familiar. He's—you saw my dream. He isn't unattractive. And the only life I know without him was when I was a kid."

"So you're afraid of change? Of him not being there?"

Viv shrugs. "I'm scared of him, too. My life is scary either way. It's just—he loved me when no one else did. Not love. You know what I mean."

School couldn't have been easy on Viv. "He was the first person to show interest in you?"

Viv nodded. "Or at least, the first one I was attracted to. I don't know. Not that I had many girls into me, either. Everyone except Leah and Aldo either hated me or ignored me."

Am I reading that right? Is he implying Leah had a crush on him? Weirdly enough, it fits. I'd never have come up with that myself, but it doesn't sound wrong. Then again, I might be jumping to conclusions. Maybe Viv doesn't even know. I suppose it's not really important. The thought of Cyril treating Leah the way he treated me earlier this morning horrifies me, though.

I don't want to leave him alone, but I also can't take him with me to work. "Are you going to be all right here?" I ask while I clear away our dishes. Don't know what I'll do if he says “no.”

"I've been fine so far. I doubt today will be any different," he tells me with an unconvincing smile.

<<>>

Work was hell. Not as bad as when I nearly cried on that woman who reminded me of Jody, but bad enough. I kept nodding off when it got slow. Leah pretended not to notice. I resisted the temptation to ask her what exactly made her decide to stop living with Viv.

At least I get a chance to nap now that I'm home. Viv comes back several hours after me. After I hear him come in, I get up to check the refrigerator. The eggs are probably fine. There's an onion and peppers and a bag of cheese. Also some mushrooms that are about to go off. "How do you feel about omelettes for dinner?"

He looks like a wreck. The dark eye makeup he wore to work doesn't quite hide the bags under his eyes, but maybe it camouflages them enough for people who aren't looking for them. “Do we have enough to make one for Cody, too? They're doing a matinee today. He'll probably be home in time to eat it warm.”

“Let's cut up everything we have, then see what happens if we divide it in three.” Viv's being optimistic. “Warm” probably means cool, but still lukewarm enough to maybe eat without microwaving it.

These are going to be some huge omelettes. We could save some of the chopped vegetables, but I doubt they'd last past tomorrow if we did. Twenty minutes pass. Viv sits at the table and starts eating his while I make mine. There's enough left for more than one omelette. “Maybe you could make me another after you eat yours?” he asks. “Then if you make one for Cody after that, you should finish right before he gets home.”

“We've definitely got enough ingredients for that.” Funny how he has a bottomless pit for a stomach, yet can't be trusted not to burn his own food if he makes anything that doesn't go in a toaster. I wonder what he ate before he moved in with us. It's hard to picture Leah cooking for him.

My omelette is underwhelming after the first couple bites. Maybe it's because I kept popping bits of cheese and raw vegetables in my mouth while I was cooking. I certainly didn't have any opportunity to forget how hungry I was with the smell that's still hanging in the kitchen.

Viv was right about the timing. I hear Cody come in right as I'm about to flip his omelette onto a plate.

“Smells good—you made me some, right?” He peers into the kitchen and answers his own question before he finishes his sentence, then smiles.

“Right here. I gave you all the jalapeños Viv didn't want.”

“Perfect.”

I sit when he does, but maybe I should start doing the dishes instead—

“How'd your days go?” he asks.

I look towards Viv only to see him looking back at me.

Cody follows our gazes and takes a big bite, watching us expectantly.

“Fine.” Viv shrugs a little two quickly after he speaks. It's not a natural-looking shrug.

Cody notices but doesn't comment. “Joss?”

“Best left undiscussed,” I tell him.

“Did—” Whatever that question was, he thinks better of it mid-sentence. “Uh. Nevermind.”

Viv beats me to washing the dishes. We should warn Cody about Cyril, but it's mostly Viv's story to tell. Anything I feel okay telling Cody about will lead to questions I don't want to answer, but it's hard to get Viv's attention now. Why didn't I think of this before he got home?

At least Cyril let us eat in peace. I ask Cody about his day. How the crew and his fellow cast members are doing. I remember some of their names individually, so it's easy to keep him talking.