Nesting Habits Page 8

  Lee’s smile slowly faded, and Phil tried to remember what he should do. Besides get help, that is. He rested his palm on Lee’s cheek, and it was cold.

  “Hey. No sleeping. You have a concussion.”

  Lee groaned. “Do not.”

  “Open your eyes.”

  “I already know how hot you are.”

  “I mean it. D-don’t go to sleep on me.” Phil rubbed Lee’s shoulder, but maybe he wasn’t shaking from the cold.

  “Tell me a story. Tell me how you got into taking pictures of nesting urban hummingbirds.”

  “I want you to stay awake, not zonk out.” And stop slurring your words. That would make me very happy.

  “Tell me.” Lee started to sound a little whiney, but he opened one eye.

  Phil opened his mouth, and the first raindrops fell. They were big and fat and cold, and came on a growing wind. He turned to look out across the water and the solid purple of the advancing storm made him feel a little sick. Maybe it wasn’t so bad if Lee didn’t open his eyes. “You don’t want to hear that. It’s boring.”

  “S-sure I do.”

  Phil tried to block the wind with his body, but it wasn’t as effective as it would’ve been had their roles been reversed. Phil stood and looked up the hill again, carefully moved to the other side of the narrow ledge, and tried a different angle, hoping to see a path he could climb. In just a few minutes it would be dark and his chance would snuff out like the light. He turned back to Lee, who had slumped forward like he’d lost consciousness.

  “Hey. Hey, wake up.” Phil silently berated himself for leaving him to be rained on and touched his cheek again—even colder. He shook him gently. Nothing. “Lee! Levi Redding, answer me.”

  “Huh?”

  Phil peeled off his wet jacket and had most of the buttons on his denim shirt undone when Lee opened both eyes. They grew wide immediately.

  “What’re you doing?”

  “Giving you one of my shirts. You’re cold.” Phil pulled his jacket back on and then un-zipped Lee’s. He was shivering, but Phil didn’t see how he could get the shirt on him without his help, so he changed the plan. He folded the shirt and slipped it under Lee’s head and then opened his jacket and stretched out beside him. He wrapped Lee in his arms. With their bodies pressed close and both jackets shielding him from the rain, Lee’s shivering lessened.

  “If you wanted to climb all over me, you didn’t have to throw me off a cliff first. You coulda just asked.”

  “But I always do things the hard way.”

  “I’ve noticed that about you. You’re a strange bird, Phil, but I love you.” Lee draped an arm over him and squeezed. Weak, but better than nothing. “Seriously. Tell me how you started taking pictures.”

  “When I went to my first f-foster family, they let me play with a cheap little digital camera. It was fun, and everything looked different through the camera. The world seemed easier to handle one square at a time. You still with me?”

  Another squeeze and a whisper. “Yeah.”

  Phil kissed Lee’s neck and then pulled the collar of his jacket up to cover as much exposed skin as possible. He remembered the body core was most important to keep warm, at least he hoped that was right. “They said I took nice pictures, and that felt good. So when I had money of my own, I bought a camera.”

  After another long silence, Phil asked Lee to tell him a story.

  “Tell me about those Bankers Boxes?” Lee felt warmer but still shivered enough so it came through in his voice.

  Phil scooted closer and rubbed Lee’s side. “Jerry was my m-mom’s divorce lawyer. He still does l-legal aid work. It was just coincidence we met again when I was sixteen. I ran away from a gr-group home and… the social worker at the hospital called him f-for advice and he came to see me. He helped me get my G-GED, a-and then gave me a j-job converting his old files to electronic documents. Th-then I s-started doing it for other l-lawyers, and that’s wh-what I was d-doing when the p-pipe broke.”

  Phil swallowed hard, he would not panic and he would not cry—but damn that fucking wind is cold. It bit through his jacket and found every inch of exposed skin. The rain sliced past his clothes. It pummeled the back of his head and ran through his hair and down his neck and even into his shoes.

  The storm slammed into the hillside in waves, howling wind and cold rain turning the ledge into a muddy mess. Phil’s shoulder sank into the spongy ground and he hoped the night would end well. He had to believe they would make it through the night and tomorrow someone would come along the trail and hear him, and Lee would get to the hospital and everything would be fine.

  This will end well.

  “Phil? I’m glad that crumbly old pipe broke.”

  THEY TALKED through most of the night. Lee’s contributions gradually tapered off. Phil wasn’t sure exactly when it happened, but sometime while the sky was cycling through ever-lightening colors of gray, they ended altogether. Lee stopped answering him and wouldn’t be roused. Lee was breathing steadily, but Phil skirted the edge of panic while he shouted himself hoarse, hoping someone would hear. He heard the terror in his voice, and it became more and more difficult to tamp it down, to stay focused on attracting enough attention to get help.

  The sun hadn’t risen high enough to reach the ledge when someone answered. Phil could have cried with relief and then almost backed right off the ledge trying to see who he was talking to.

  A rescue worker rappelled down the hillside to assess the situation about an hour after Phil first heard the hikers. The man tried to get Phil to safety while they waited for the helicopter, but Phil refused to leave until Lee was safe.

  A member of the rescue team tried to take Phil up to the trail as soon as Lee had been strapped to the stretcher, but again he resisted. Another larger man came down the slope as the helicopter approached and carried Phil up to the trail over his protests. Phil watched over the man’s shoulder as the helicopter flew away, taking the last guy on earth with it.

  Up on the trail, one of the rescue workers took a firm grip on his right arm and panic finally won, washing over him with the force of a tsunami and making it impossible to cooperate with anyone.

  PHIL WOKE up in a hard bed, sore all over and wearing something stiff and scratchy. His first thought was to slip into the closet and pull the door closed behind him, but then he realized he wasn’t back in the group home; he was in a hospital. He staggered into the bathroom. When he peeked out again, a set of scrubs sat on the tray table. He put them on. Not much, but better than a gown with his ass hanging out.

  “Okay if I come in?”

  Jerry. He sounded tired and Phil wondered what time it was. What day it was.

  “S-sure.”

  Jerry stood in the doorway, his jacket and pants rumpled as though he’d slept in them, his white hair standing up in all directions.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Okay. L-lee?”

  “He’s okay. I’ll take you to his room in a minute.”

  Phil shuddered, and Jerry guided him to the chair beside the bed.

  “He’ll be fine. He has a concussion, and you both were hypothermic when they brought you in. He’s still somewhat altered, so I wanted to prepare you.”

  “Wh-wh—how altered?”

  “Breathe.” Jerry waited a moment, and when Phil nodded he went on. “He’s still sleeping most of the time. The last time I saw him awake, he was confused and disoriented. He thought you must’ve fallen down the slope because you weren’t there. They’ll probably keep him another day or two.”

  Phil turned his face away. He couldn’t face Jerry, and the familiarity of the room made him feel worse. Hospitals shouldn’t be allowed to look so similar. “I l-lost it. They had to h-hold me down and—”

  “Don’t worry about that. You guys spent the night on the side of a hill in a storm. Anyone would’ve lost it.”

  “Wh-when is it?”

  “You slept for almost a day. It’s been Saturday morning for a c
ouple of hours.”

  “Sorry.”

  Jerry didn’t respond and after a minute, Phil looked up. He was smiling. Sort of. “It’s okay, Phil. If you want to know the truth, I’m relieved you’re getting out and having a little fun. Nobody ever said being happy was easy—you have to take chances and sometimes things don’t work out the way you planned. But that’s life. You did good up there. You ready?”

  Phil took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He nodded in the direction of the IV hanging limp and empty beside the bed he’d just gotten out of. “D-do I want to know what was in there?”

  Jerry frowned lightly, and then smiled again. “Just a warm electrolyte solution. They had to get your body temp back up to normal and get everything stabilized, but that’s all.”

  “O-okay.”

  Phil didn’t feel steady on his feet as he followed Jerry down the corridor, but he would’ve taken off running if he knew where he was going.

  Lee looked asleep, his head was bandaged and his right leg below the knee encased in a cast that wasn’t plaster and suspended from the ceiling with ropes and pulleys. His skin was pale, and he looked banged-up, but he didn’t seem to be in any pain. He looked pretty good for a guy who’d tumbled over a cliff the day before.

  A little part of Phil thought he should turn around and go. When he realized he actually considered doing that, a shudder passed through him, and he went in farther. He still hadn’t decided whether to try to speak or just take his hand, when Lee smiled. It wasn’t his happiest smile, but it looked damned good.

  “Phil. You okay?” Lee’s eyes fluttered open partway but didn’t appear to focus completely.

  “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

  Lee frowned. His eyelids fluttered again, and when Phil thought they’d close, Lee focused on him. His eyes, his beautiful brown-and-green eyes, were full of fear, and it tugged at Phil’s heart.

  “I should have been more careful. I grabbed for you, but I couldn’t….”

  “That was dumb. You would’ve come down along with me.”

  Phil was too stunned to answer—how do you verbally kick someone’s ass when they almost just died because of your stupidity? Before he could recover, someone slammed into his back. At the same time, two arms wrapped around him and squeezed. He wasn’t sure what surprised him more, that he knew exactly who it was or that he wasn’t the least bit scared.

  “Phil, you’re here.”

  “Hi, Becca.” Phil hugged her arms and smiled when she kissed the side of his head.

  “Do you feel good?”

  “Yeah. I’m fine.”

  “Beck, don’t squeeze all the air out of him.”

  “I’m not, am I Phil?”

  “No. You’re fine. Y-you can hug me anytime you want to.”

  “Is that where the mean dog bit you?”

  Phil froze for a second and then nodded. He hadn’t even thought that the scrubs were short sleeved, only that he needed to see Lee. If he had thought about it, he would’ve never left the room he woke up in. His right arm still made him sick to look at, the dents and scars and the missing chunk of muscle below his elbow, but Becca didn’t seem to feel the same. Only curious.

  “Does it hurt?”

  “N-no.”

  Becca squeezed him harder; her arms tightened around his chest like steel bands and pushed tears up into his eyes. Even though it hurt a little, being squeezed to within an inch of breath, when she let go, he wanted to hold her there. What was a little pain compared to a hug like that?

  “Thank you, Phil.”

  “For what?”

  Becca gently held Phil’s shoulders and sat him in a chair beside Lee’s bed. She sat in the one beside it.

  “You took care of Lee in the storm. You climbed down the hill and gave up your shirt and everything. You’re very brave.”

  Tina and Jerry came in with fast food before Phil could think of a way to answer that. He hadn’t felt hungry, but as soon as he smelled the chicken, his head spun. Phil hadn’t finished even one piece before Lee fell asleep again. Phil stayed to watch him sleep and joined him before too long, curled against his left side. He expected to be shaken awake and told to leave, but when nature’s call woke him a few hours later, he was still there, Lee’s arm draped across his shoulders.

  Lee

  LEE STARTLED awake with a hoarse cry, jerking just enough to tweak everything that was sore or broken—which felt like everything. He reached out for Phil but was alone in the room. He called out just as he heard the toilet flush. He didn’t know how he’d ended up in a private room and didn’t want to look that particular gift horse in the face. He’d live with the not knowing. His memory had a creepy amount of gaps and shadowy spots and places where it had stretched out of shape. And that was only counting the ones he knew about. No sense in begging for more.

  Phil came into the room, and Lee fought to keep from looking at his arm. He just didn’t want to go there—it was too painful to contemplate while he still couldn’t even see straight. Phil smiled and kissed his cheek. Lee wanted to cry from that smile alone. He felt overcome with—something—every time Phil smiled at him like that, like he was the most important thing in the world.

  “You okay?”

  Lee nodded and immediately wished he hadn’t. “Yeah. Don’t think I like waking up by myself, though.”

  Phil grinned. “Some things cannot be deferred without consequences.”

  Lee stopped himself from rolling his eyes just in time to avoid any extra dizziness. “I had the craziest dream. Lie down again while I tell you about it?”

  Phil leaned over and kissed him—a real holding his face in both hands kind of kiss. Lee jerked in surprise when he noticed his usual long-sleeved shirt. He’d expected Phil to still be wearing the short-sleeved scrubs.

  Every time that happened—the sensation that a few frames were missing from the movie he was living in—it weirded him out. Phil sighed, slipped back onto the bed, and curled around him, chasing away every other thought in Lee’s sore head. Lee had woken up a few hours earlier, and finding Phil asleep beside him had felt like a dream. He’d tried to stay awake and enjoy it, but didn’t make it long.

  “Okay. What was your crazy dream?”

  Lee rubbed Phil’s arm that lay across his chest, the left one. The perfect shape of an arm safely encased in soft cotton. “I dreamt I blew you in the bathroom in the parking lot at Long Sands Beach.”

  “That’s not a dream.”

  “Huh?” Lee tried to look at Phil’s face to see if he was kidding. Phil turned his face up and obviously was not.

  “Well, it wasn’t the bathroom. That hikers’ camp cabin thing. It was as good as a dream. But it really happened. Probably why I was acting so dumb and—”

  “Well, I barely remember doing it. So we’ll have to go back and do it again.”

  Lee kissed Phil’s forehead and hugged him against his side. He caught Phil’s shiver, but that was something else he didn’t feel the need to worry about. He didn’t think he’d encounter much resistance by the time he was able to follow through.

  “When they let me out of here, will you come with me out to Mom’s?”

  Lee waited for him to think about it but couldn’t help worrying he’d pass out, he held his breath so long.

  “Is it o-okay?”

  “Sure.” Lee nuzzled Phil’s hair; he smelled like old aluminum foil, which was a far cry from his usual non-fear-drenched scent. “I’m going to need some help up and down the stairs because I’m not sleeping on the couch.”

  Phil squeezed closer and nodded. Lee had no idea how long Phil would be okay with the touching, so he meant to take advantage of every possible moment. He drew his hand slowly up and down Phil’s arm, and then spread his hand as wide as he could over Phil’s back. He wanted to hold him tight enough to let him know everything would be okay, to stop the tremors coursing through his body—not steadily, but maybe their random rhythm was worse. Lee tightened his arm around Phil as much as he co
uld. It seemed to have the opposite effect, so he eased up gradually.

  He felt guilty thinking it, but he was glad someone had brought Phil a long-sleeved shirt. Anything that helped him relax and be touched—be held!—to say it was welcome would be the understatement of the year. If the dream about sucking Phil off at Long Sands Beach had really happened, the rest of it was probably true too. As he lost his battle to stay awake, he hoped the small round burn scars that would’ve been hidden by Phil’s underwear—if he’d been wearing any—weren’t.

  Phil

  THE IDEA of staying with Lee at his mom’s place felt strange, but Phil wasn’t sure why he felt that way. Was it because he and Lee were involved, or was it because Lee, Becca, and Tina were a real family? Whatever it was about, the feeling didn’t last long. Just being with Lee put him at ease, as always, even though he still didn’t feel well. Both Tina and Becca seemed happy to have him there, so that helped too, even if they didn’t say much to him on the drive out to the farm.

  It wasn’t easy to get Lee upstairs, but he insisted he only needed Phil’s help. As soon as they made it, he collapsed on his bed, pale and sweaty but smiling.

  “Wh-where will I—”

  “Don’t even ask me where you’re sleeping. Because you’re squeezing in right here.” Lee patted the bed beside him.

  Phil’s eyes went wide. “But…. Are you sure?”

  “We’re not making porn movies, just sleeping. Or, in my case, laying around all day for as long as I can get away with it.”

  Lee’s grin infected Phil, and he helped Lee get settled. Squeezing wasn’t necessary; they fit together just right. They cuddled a little and talked a little, but it wasn’t long before Lee fell asleep again.

  Phil went downstairs for a drink. The house was so still and quiet; after the random noise and disruption of the hospital, he had to stop and enjoy it. He stood in the kitchen and just listened. Even outside, all he heard were birds and an occasional chopping sound far away. He filled a glass with water and went to the back door to look out at the greenhouse and gardens. Lee’s car sat at the bottom of the steps. He felt the same anger rising, until he looked more closely.