Page 40 of Collin: Episodes 1-3
“Okay. Love you, son. Take care.”
Collin ended the call.
Mr. Reevesworth let the silence extend. It felt right. Collin kept his eyes on the carpet, waiting. If he moved, the moment might shatter. There might be a demand, an expectation, and that would be too much. If he could only stand there forever, in the silence, Mr. Reevesworth’s presence filling up the room and taking away any need to speak or move. The carpet underfoot was the edge of a cliff. And his bones were a house of cards. But if he didn’t move, if he just stood still, then it could be this silent and empty forever.
“If we had a contract, I know what I would do right now.” Mr. Reevesworth’s voice eased into the air, dark and quiet. “What do you need?”
Collin forced a smile. He lifted his head and shoved his phone into his pocket. “Breakfast. Breakfast sounds lovely.” Collin met his eyes with brittle will and smiled brighter. “I’m good. Honest. And I have no idea what time it is. Probably late. I’m sorry for all this. Please don’t let this mess get in the way anymore.”
Mr. Reevesworth waited a beat longer. “Sir.”
Collin laughed at himself and nodded. “Sir. My apologies. I’m good, sir.” Years of customer service kept his chin up.
“If you’d like to eat in the kitchen, Émeric is almost ready. Or you can eat here.”
The thought of eating hit Collin’s belly like a brick. “Here, if it’s okay, sir. Honestly, no offense to Mr. Moreau, but I might fall asleep before I eat everything. I didn’t sleep well.”
“That is acceptable.”
“Collin.”
For the second time that day, Collin forced his eyes open. There was a small warm weight purring on his back.
“It’s noon. You need to eat and take your meds.”
“Meds?” Collin rubbed his face. Mr. Reevesworth stood beside the bed with a cup of water and a small glass bowl with five pills in it.
“For the malnutrition and exhaustion. You’ve been getting them in your drinks, but you can take the pills now.”
Collin forced himself to sit up, dislodging the cat. Artemis stalked off to the other side of the bed and curled up, her tail stiff with insult.
The glass was neither hot nor cold in his hands. “You shouldn’t have, sir.”
Mr. Reevesworth pressed his lips together and held out the pills. “I reheated your breakfast. You should eat. Some of these don’t go well on an empty stomach. Then we’ll find a way to keep you awake. If you don’t, you’ll have trouble sleeping again tonight.”
“You really shouldn’t be taking so much trouble, sir.”
“What I do is my own decision, Collin.”
“Yes, sir.”
Swallowing pills was a better option than pursuing conversation. As was eating.
Collin spent the afternoon in the window seat of the living room, Artemis on his lap, a variety of podcasts and radio shows playing from a small portable speaker on the cushion next to him. He woke half a dozen times to Mr. Reevesworth calling his name and reminding him to stay awake.
“I’m sorry,” he said for the twelfth time, accepting a bottle of mixed green juice a little before sunset. “Can’t seem to stay awake. If I could do something, like work…” His voice trailed off. Mr. Reevesworth felt very far away even though he was standing right there.
“The doctor will be by tomorrow morning. He thinks you’ll be clear by then to read for short periods of time since you haven’t had any new symptoms. You’re well past the critical first forty-eight hours.”
Collin stared back out the window. He should say something. Respond. And that felt like a step too far. He was suspended somewhere, waiting. But there was no ground on which to stand and find himself.
Mr. Reevesworth took the juice from him and twisted off the cap. “Drink, Collin.” He held the bottle out again.
Collin turned his head back slowly.
Mr. Reevesworth sighed. He drew up an ottoman and sat down. He held the bottle toward Collin’s face. The scent of spinach and lemon bit the inside of Collin’s nose. He flinched and grasped the cool glass.
“Drink.”
