Page 17 of Rhymes with Metaphor
He lookedoff, like he was far away and receding fast.
This wasn’t Reg’s problem or his business.
Itwasn’t.
Reg hooked his hand under Joel’s armpit and lifted him to his feet.Joel was so slight and unresponsive to his touch, it reminded him of a day at the beach as a boy, lifting a dead seagull by the wing, hollow-boned and stiff.
“I’ll give you a lift home,” said Reg, letting him go.“Come on.”
For a moment, Reg thought Joel was going to fall back onto the bench, but he remained standing.Reg headed for his car, but Joel didn’t move.Reg sighed and took hold of Joel’s upper arm.Joel allowed himself to be pulled along, but he came reluctantly, like a prisoner being led to the gallows.
As Reg hadn’t given anyone a lift in weeks, his passenger seat was full of accumulated detritus, crumpled papers, and coffee cups, and where had all those fucking rubber bands and paperclips come from?Reg shovelled everything into the backseat, where it joined piles of other clutter.He had to help Joel into the empty passenger seat and shut the door for him, because god forbid Joel make the effort to do it himself.
Reg got into the driver’s seat and slammed the door.Rain roared on the roof, and the windshield was opaque with swirling water.His suit jacket was slicked to his back.He was soaked beyond redemption and fuming.He pulled a loose cigarette from his breast pocket, tried fruitlessly to light it, seven times, then chucked lighter and cigarette both into the compartment behind the gear shift.
Reg didn’t spare a glance at Joel as he drove, because, even with the wipers on full blast, he could barely see the road.Joel remained quiet, thankfully, because Reg was on his last available nerve.
When he got to Joel’s house, the driveway was empty, so he pulled in and parked.
“Right,” said Reg.“Here you are.Home.”
Joel stared sightlessly into space, hair still dripping.
“Off you go,” said Reg.
When it became clear Joel wouldn’t get out of the car—not without Reg hauling him out and escorting him to the house under the hammering rain—Reg got out and splashed up the steps to the front door.Rain was waterfalling off the eaves around the porch, and any part of him that wasn’t thoroughly drenched became so as he ran through it to reach the door.The windows were all dark.Reg rapped the door with the brass knocker, then with his fist, then with the flat of his hand until the wood sent shuddering booms through the hollow house.He waited long enough that someone with a Zimmer frame would have had time to make their way down from the attic.But no one opened the door.
Reg was fed up.As far as he was concerned, he’d done his good deed for the day.In all fairness, he should pull Joel out of his car and leave him here.He must have a key, though he didn’t look capable of using one and would probably stand outside until someone came home and let him in.Even if Reg let him in, he’d be leaving him in that state in an empty house.
Reg sighed loudly, for no one’s benefit but his own, and got back into the car.Under the dome light, Joel looked painfully frail, black half moons under his eyes, dark stubble on his pale skin.
“I’m going home,” said Reg.“If you don’t want to come with me, I suggest you get out.”
Joel started shivering, but he made no move to leave.Reg turned the heater on.The windows immediately fogged, and he had to keep wiping the windshield clear with his sleeve as he drove.
He drove to a generic coffee shop’s drive thru and got a cup of atrocious coffee and a hot chocolate for Joel, though, by the time Reg tried to hand it to him, Joel had dozed off, head against the passenger window, and Reg put it in the cupholder.
He parked in the underground garage, out of the rain at last.Joel had to be shaken awake and then coaxed out of Reg’s car and up to his loft.He barely opened his eyes the entire time.Once in the loft, Joel looked like he was about to collapse, so Reg guided him to the settee, which Joel immediately fell upon and passed out.Reg shut himself in the bathroom for a quiet scream.Then he called Martin on his dripping phone.
“What’s wrong?”said Martin.
“Do you have Juliet’s number by any chance?”said Reg.
“She’s here with me,” said Martin.“Why?”
“It’s New Bug.He’s in a bad way.”
“‘Bad way’ how?”said Martin.“Is he drunk?Wait, I’ll put the phone on the table—speak up so Juliet can hear.”Reg heard Martin say quietly, “It’s about Joel.”
“I ran into him on campus,” said Reg.“He’s not drunk—just exhausted, I think.I took him back to his place, but no one was there, and I didn’t want to leave him alone, so I brought him to mine.”
“Can I speak to him?”said Juliet.
“He’s spark out on my settee at the moment,” said Reg.“Anyway, I wanted to let you know where he is.”
There was a long pause.
“He had his last final exam today,” said Juliet.“He hasn’t slept for two straight days.I told him he needed rest.”
