Chapter 10
“Robin’s not here,” Melissa said when I dropped off a load of rolls on Saturday. I’d been surprised to see her, not Robin, at the loading bay. Last three nights, Robin and I had spent all tangled up in my sheets. He’d been right: dating was a hell of a lot of fun. Having someone to cook for was a nice thing. Having someone to fall asleep with was even better. And waking up to Robin? Well, that was pretty much perfect.
Saturday Robin had headed out to the shelter while I headed in to work to finish up a few cakes. I’d spent most of my morning humming to myself while I decorated a birthday cake and two retirement cakes. And yeah, I’d been counting down the hours until I made the delivery to the shelter.
“He not show?” I tried to keep my voice neutral. I didn’t want to go all overprotective boyfriend when I wasn’t sure how open Robin wanted to be around people at the shelter.
“Oh, Robin was here. It’s that Zach kid.” Her sigh echoed off the metal loading dock and her eyes were red. “Such a sad case. His parents were by earlier. Brought big carafes of coffee with them. Wanted to talk to anyone who knows Zach.”
“They trying to find out who sold him his stash?” My shoulders tightened. I’d be pissed and ready to burn down the city in their shoes. Following Melissa, I carried the cases of rolls back to the stockroom.
“Nah. I think it’s more that they’re reaching out, looking for people to talk to, people to tell them more about how he was living the last few months.” Melissa lined up the boxes of rolls with the other baked goods in the storeroom, then started in on unpacking boxes from a dolly.
“He still in a coma?” My gut churned, a toxic stew of worry for Robin and concern over Zach. I took a box of cans from Melissa and started sliding them onto shelves.
“No. It doesn’t look good.” She paused in her work, gnawing on her lower lip.
“Shit. Pardon me.”
“No, it’s okay. Anytime one of our guys gets hurt it’s hard, but it’s really hard when it’s a kid.”
“Was Robin really upset by the parents?”
“Not exactly. He kind of bonded with the mom. He went back with them to the hospital.”
The queasiness in my gut morphed into a tidal wave of worry, bringing with it a vicious need to get to Robin.
“Shit,” I said again. “He’s into this thing too deep.”
“Yeah.” She sighed, sinking down onto a stack of boxes. “Robin was around Zach’s age when he first came around here. Tweaked out of his gourd most of the time, but occasionally I’d get him to eat something. Got him talking a few times. Then Christmas time . . .” She shook her head.
“What?”
“Friend of his named Tim died. OD’d. Kid was younger than him. We were all real worried about Robin.”
“Yeah.” A chill raced up my back. Whenever something like an overdose happened, things could go either way—could scare someone straight or could push him down an even more dangerous path.
“But then a miracle happened: I got Robin to call his mom for the holidays. I’d been working on him for months to call home. Or get him to accept a referral to services. Anything. His mom talked him into giving rehab one more go. And he’s made it three years now.” She wiped at her eyes. “But I’m worried he’s taking this Zach thing way too personally. Seeing himself or his friend in Zach’s situation.”
“Crap. Yeah, I’m worried too,” I admitted. “You got the hospital info? I think I might go check on him. Make sure he doesn’t need anything.”
“Yeah. You’re a good friend, Vic.” She smiled at me through misty eyes. “For what it’s worth, you’d be way better for him than Paul ever was.”
“We’re not—”
“Cliff’s got me down for a ten that you guys get together. Don’t go screwing with the betting pool.” Melissa’s smile was a bit too wide, like she was forcing herself to grab for a joke when what she really wanted were more tissues.
Me, I wasn’t too thrilled about being the gossip of the day. Soup, bread, and a side of the when-will-Vic-get-laid betting line. No, thanks. My back stiffened like week-old sourdough. I regretted ever telling Cliff about my resolution.
“Cliff needs to learn to shut his mouth.”
“Oh!” She clapped her hands together, her face brightening like I’d let something slip. “I knew there was something there!”
“Nothing to talk about.” Cliff might be my best friend and my boss, but I was gonna put a serious hurt on him next time I saw him.
“Oh, come on, Vic. I’ve had a sucky week. We all have. Don’t hold out good news.” She made a pleading face that probably won her all sorts of donations and confessions.
“I’ll see.” I straightened a row of cereal that didn’t need it. I really wasn’t one to kiss and tell, and having never had a boyfriend before, fake or otherwise, I didn’t know how to handle all this curiosity. Flattered, I guess, but mainly I wanted to get to Robin. Check in on him. Part of me didn’t want to confide in Melissa because I still couldn’t believe a guy like Robin would want someone like me. He was young and beautiful and kind, while I was old and cranky and decidedly not so beautiful. And it didn’t matter how many orgasms we shared or how many public places we went together, it was a hard feeling to shake.
I got the hospital info from her and headed over after I took the truck back and grabbed a few things from inside the store. I texted Robin on my way over, but he didn’t respond.
I found him in the ICU waiting area, sitting next to a small blond woman with messy hair and red eyes. He spotted me as soon as I entered the seating alcove, an uncertain smile peeking out of his worried face.
“Vic? What are you doing here?” he asked. Robin and the lady both stood up as I approached their section of the waiting room.
“Melissa at the shelter said you were here with Zach’s folks. Wasn’t sure if they’d eaten, so I brought them some food.” I held out the bakery box.
“I’m Tonya, Zach’s mother. Thank you; you’re very kind. His dad’s in with him now, but he’d thank you, too.”
“You good on coffee?” I asked her. “Want something not from the cafeteria?”
“We’re good.” She gave me a weary smile. “Do you know Zach, too?”
“No,” I admitted. “But I’m so sorry he’s hurt.”
“Vic’s my boyfriend.” Robin moved closer to me, which surprised me. “The one I was telling you about?”
Robin was telling strangers about me? I felt more than a little guilty for the flip in my stomach and the lightness in my knees.
“Oh. Of course. The baker. How . . . lovely.” Tonya looked away. I didn’t take it personal. Lord only knew what sorts of emotions she was battling, or how the family had handled Zach’s being gay. Or his using. Had they been like Robin’s family and cut him off financially? Emotionally, like so many others?
Tonya seemed to drift off into her own world, going back to sitting on a vinyl bench, fiddling with her hands. All the machines and monitors on the floor emitted a steady beep-beep-blip-blip drone, each noise more lonely than the last. Over at the nurses’ station, a group of blue-clad nurses talked in hushed tones. I felt a swift urge to call my own mother. Tell her I loved her and figure out a way to say thanks that didn’t sound all cheesy. I’d call her as soon as we were done here. Maybe I’d mention Robin. For the first time ever, I had a guy I wanted the family to meet. She was joking just the other week that Trevor and I were the last two Degrassi boys unattached.
“You wanna walk with me?” I asked Robin. “Get you a coffee or a soda?”
“I’m not thirsty, but I’ll walk a bit.” He bent to say something to Tonya, who nodded absently.
The glassed-in patient cubicles surrounded the nurses’ station in a horseshoe shape, but I headed in the opposite direction, down the main corridor.
“The doctors don’t think he’s going to make it,” Robin said as soon as we were out of earshot.
“Oh, man.” I didn’t have words for how much that sucked—for Zach, for his parents, for the world, and for Robin, who looked like a boulder sat on his shoulders, pushing him down, locking his features in a grimace.
“His folks are all alone.” Robin’s voice was strained. “Everyone else gave up on him a long time ago.”
“Real nice of you to come sit with them.”
“I suppose. You don’t have to stay.”
“Hey. If you’re gonna be here, I want to be here, too.” My sour stomach called me a liar. I hated hospitals. Couldn’t wait to get out after my surgery. They reminded me of death; the smell of antiseptic and old coffee in the hall was taking me back to the bitter, ugly days when I lost my dad and Manny. I didn’t want to be there, but I needed to be there for Robin, to stand witness somehow to the pain I saw in his eyes.
“I’m probably going to go soon.” He chewed on his lower lip. “I’m not sure I’m doing much good.”
We came to a sky bridge with little benches by the glass walls. I tugged him over to one and sat down next to him. There were enough people needing comfort on this floor that I didn’t think twice about wrapping an arm around him.
“I’m sure you’re doing more good than you think, but you want to come back with me? Let me cook you some dinner, relax a little, and then see if you need to come back?”
“Ah. Thanks, Vic, but I’m not feeling up to that.”
“It’s okay that you’re feeling down. You can just veg out on my sofa. Let me cook for you. You shouldn’t be alone.”
“Oh. My. God.” His shoulders stiffened and he scooted away from me. “Melissa got to you, didn’t she? Look, I’m not at risk of relapsing. I’ll go to a freaking meeting tomorrow if it gets people off my case.”
“Hey. Whoa.” I reached for his hand, but he yanked it away. “I don’t think you’re about to relapse. I think you need . . . some comfort. Let me take care of you, baby. You can help Zach’s parents more with a good meal and some rest in you.”
“Ah . . . thanks, Vic.” Some of the fight went out of his face and he let me take his hand. “I just really need to be alone. I’ll call you later or something.”
The “or something” made my stomach cramp. “Are . . . are you through with us?”
“What?” He shook his head. “No. I just need some space tonight. Trust me. My mood is too black for me to be good company.”
“You don’t have to be good company,” I said softly. “We don’t have to—”
“Can we just drop it?” Robin’s eyes were bright. “I said I’ll call. Maybe brunch tomorrow?”
“Okay. It’s a date.” I clenched my hands to keep them from shaking, kept them clenched the whole way back to my car. My brain felt clogged, like frustration and worry were making ordinary tasks impossible. Ended up sending my mom a quick text because I wasn’t sure my brain would cooperate for a call—didn’t want to end up unloading all my shit on her. It took me three tries just to unlock my stupid car door. I wanted to trust Robin, wanted to trust he’d be okay, wanted to trust we’d get through this together.
It was a crappy date for sure. Robin barely picked at his food and the easy conversation of a week ago was gone. We were crammed into one of the long tables, surrounded by young families and weekend hipsters, with no real space for me to touch Robin or talk frankly.
“You going back to the hospital today?” I asked, wishing I could force more food on him. He dragged the same piece of toast around uneaten scrambled tofu.
“Yeah. Probably. They don’t have anyone else. At least I can fetch stuff for them. Listen.”
My hand moved restlessly at my side. Damn people, penning us in. I wanted to wrap Robin in my arms. Protect him from the oncoming hurt. His kindness was what had attracted me to him to begin with; he was so darn selfless. But it also had the potential to cut him open, leaving him vulnerable and hurting.
“I can come too.”
“Nah. You don’t need to.” He picked up a strawberry, considered it, then set it back down.
“I want—”
“They’re not the coolest about the gay thing. That’s part of what I was listening to them about. They weren’t the most accepting when Zach came out to them. They feel guilty and they’re working through it, but I think seeing us together might be hard, especially us happy with each other.”
I’d gotten that impression too, and ordinarily I’d say that other people’s discomfort with my sexuality was their own damn problem, but grief-racked parents got a little leeway.
“We’re happy?” I asked. Robin seemed anything but, with listless eyes that didn’t meet mine.
“Zach thing aside, you really have to ask?” He offered me a weary smile. “Maybe I can come over after the hospital?”
“Anytime. Even if it’s late. Especially if it’s late.”
We finished breakfast and walked a bit on Alberta afterward, but it was like there was a spatula between us, shoving us apart, filling us up with unpleasant emotions and uncomfortable silences.