“Holy shit,” I wince, almost impressed. “That’s, wow, that’s…a lot. Go on, pumpkin, let it all out.” I can’t pull over safely thanks to all the street parking surrounding us, and there are a few cars behind me, so I think the best thing I can do is keep driving and get her to a bathroom as quickly as I can, and just let her carry on ralphing in my car. Within seconds it looks like a communal bathroom in a university dorm after St Patrick’s Day in here. Poor Jag. I shrug to myself; it can be cleaned up, no big deal. Those sounds, though, man oh man. Like the T-Rex fromJurassic Park. I smirk as I make a mental note to tell her whenshe’s sobered up, see if I can get her to do that cute nose wrinkle she does when she’s grossed out.
Finally, she leans back, green in the face and sweaty. Wishbone is closest; I’ll get her to the upstairs flat and help her clean up and get to bed. I’ll stay up all night in a chair next to her in case she feels sick again. There’s no way I’m leaving her alone and fucked up like this. “It’s alright, babygirl, I got you.”
“Leo, what the fuck are you doing here?” She injects as much feeling into her puky warble as possible, but honestly, she’s like a bad tempered housecat trying to be a tiger.
“Because this car belongs to me.” I turn left, trying not to breathe through my nose to avoid the sour, boozy stench.
“Whatever,” she mutters, closing her eyes again.
“Don’t go back to sleep.” I pull into a parking space halfway up the hill, about a hundred yards from the shop. “We’re here.” She grumbles crankily, pushing weakly at me, but I wave it off. “None of your sass. You’re coming with me.”
I guide her out of the car, compensating for her resistance and her total loss of any equilibrium as gently as I can, and start guiding her up the hill, both my arms around her waist.
“Why are we going to work? ‘S’not workingtons time…” She leans heavily against me.
“Workingtons?” I laugh.
“If you like, I dunno, whatever,” she mumbles, barely even awake.
I sigh. Sometimes talking to Sadie when she’s half cut is fun because her sense of humour becomes even more wicked and more than a little filthy, but she’s too far gone even for coherent sentences now. “Never mind, Sades, we’re almost there.” I have to hold her up against the shop window with one hand while unlocking Wishbone with the other. Fortunately, I’m ambidextrous, which has always been handy in a variety of ways,most of them X rated. Once we’re inside, her legs are such jelly that I give up and carry her up the spiral staircase.
I’m pretty sure the sheets on the bed are freshly laundered, but either way, they’ll do. She’s the person who uses this upstairs flat the most, anyway. Sadie stayed here overnight a few times to avoid Peter towards the end of their relationship, and sometimes stays over now that he’s moved out if she has a late appointment. I got a real kick out of knowing that she was here, that this was the safe place she went to when she needed one. Since my arms weren’t an option, my property was the next best thing.
I lay her down on the bed slowly, smoothing her hair back from her face. By some miracle, none of the vomit got in it. Parts of her red lengths are still poker straight and shiny, but some of it has become tangled and kinked and sweaty from the ravages of the night. She looks up at me, her eyes barely focusing. “Am I lying down?”
“Like a total champ,” I confirm, picking up a discarded hair tie from the bedside table and helping her sit up. Without any real finesse, I tie her hair in a knot on top of her head as quickly as I can, just in case she gets sick again.
“That feels nice,” she slurs as I stroke her hair up her scalp.
“Good.” I help her lie back down again and place the waste paper bin next to the bed for her. “Time to go to sleep,” I say quietly, gently running the backs of my fingers across her forehead and down her cheek over and over. My mother used to do this to help me drift off when I was a kid. Hopefully it feels nice and isn’t adding to her queasiness.
After a moment, my knuckles feel wet. When I look, there are a couple of tear tracks running down her face, squeezing my heart.
“What’s up, pretty lady?” I ask.
She sniffs. “It’s not fair, Leo. I did ev’rythin’ I was s’posed to. Why can I never do anything good enough?” she asks in a broken voice, her words running together.
“What do you mean?” I sit on the edge of the bed, settling in for a pep talk. Nobody makes Sadie feel like she’s inadequate for anything or for any reason. Not on my watch.
She lets out an almost goose-like honk of a sob, and I give her a few moments to get back under control. “M-my dad never thinks I do anything right…and then Peter…why didn’t he choose me the way I choosed…choseded…picked him?” Through bleary, damp eyes that are still struggling to make me out clearly, she looks me in the eyes, or close enough. “Just cos I’m…a lot…or not enough…doesn’t mean they c’n treat me like garbage. Why am I such a hopeless fuckin’loserto th’m, no matter what I do? Why don’t they love me the way I lovethem?”
I pick up her hand and kiss the small scar at the base of her thumb. She got it in a lemon zesting incident a couple of years ago when she was helping me make dinner for the gang. “You are, without a doubt, the furthest thing from a loser I have ever met,” I say honestly and firmly. “There isnothingwrong with you. You’re brilliant. Some people are just too stupid to see it. If they want less, let them go find it, and you just stay as fantastic as you are.” I kiss her scar again, wishing I could say everything I want to. But I can say some of it. “You’re like the sun. Light, everywhere, but some people will think you shine too brightly. Shine harder at those motherfuckers, Sades. Burn their eyes right out of their stupid goddamn faces.”
I look back down at her. She’s asleep, drooling slightly at the corner of her mouth again. It’s not a restful sleep; she’s still frowning a little, the booze having failed to chase her blues away the way she intended.
So I gently place her in the recovery position, remembering the moves from childhood first aid lessons -please sir, strokemy face, lift my leg, roll me over- and then lift the leather chair in the corner, quietly setting it down closer to her so I can watch over her all night. In the morning I’ll get her some water and ibuprofen, maybe a McDonalds breakfast muffin for some nice greasy carbs to put her right, and plenty of massive bear hugs, letting her lean on me until her world is on a level again.
She sighs in her sleep, and her face relaxes. As though she knows I’m here, looking after her, so there’s nothing for her to worry about because she’s safe and cared for.
And loved.
“I sure do love you, Sadie,” I mutter, settling into the chair for the night.
CHAPTER ONE
NOW
Leo
