Page 69 of A Long Way Back
Tay gaped at him.
“You could have some ice cream after you’ve eaten.”
“I’m not hungry. Difficult to work up an appetite when you’re in pain.”
“Want me to give you a massage again?”
“If you touch me, I’ll call the police.”
Ink sighed.
HE WASN’T SURPRISED WHEN TAY made no effort to eat the pasta. Though he hadn’t expected Tay to sit and watch him eat.
“I’ll put yours in a bowl and maybe you’ll have it tomorrow,” Ink said. “I remember—”
He didn’t want to remember. But he’d stopped talking so abruptly that Tay was now staring at him.
“Remember what?”
Conversation was good. Ink just had to be careful. “When I was young, if I didn’t eat what my mother had cooked for me, she gave it to me for breakfast the next day. And if I didn’t eat it then, I had it waiting for me when I came home from school. I learned to eat what I was given or at least make an attempt to, and where necessary dispose of food I really hated in some imaginative way.”
“Like what?”
Ink hadn’t intended to talk about himself, but if it got Tay to talk to him… “I used to say I needed the toilet, then I’d fill my mouth with what I didn’t like, and rush to the loo to spit it out.”
“What didn’t you like?”
“Gammon, fatty meat, liver and pork chops. I couldn’t use the same technique with rice pudding, unfortunately. I just ate it as quickly as I could and tried not to breathe. Right, I’m going to make you a protein shake. No rushing to the loo to spit it out.”
Ink stood over him while he drank it, but moments later, Tay threw up over the kitchen floor. Dog homed in with his tongue out.
“Leave it!” Ink snapped.
He cleaned Tay up, gave him water and helped him to bed. Tay didn’t say a word. His pupils were tiny and he was breathing too fast. Ink took a bowl to the bedroom in case Tay felt sick again, then sorted out the kitchen. Dog looked guilty and Ink sighed. “Really? You lick up puke?”
THEY QUICKLY SLID INTO A cycle of Tay vomiting, Ink cleaning up the mess, then giving Tay vitamins, water and energy drinks, only for him to throw up again later. Neither of them slept much. Ink settled on the chair in Tay’s room and did little more than doze, afraid to close his eyes in case something bad happened. If Tay was semi-comatose and vomited while he was lying on his back, he might choke.
Ink was aware of every movement Tay made and Tay did a lot of tossing and turning, kicking off his sheets, only to pull them back over himself a moment later. Ink tensed when Tay groaned in pain, wishing he felt more certain he was doing the right thing. Ink gave him water, more energy drinks and a protein shake. He hadn’t realised how much of this stuff he’d need. At some point, he’d have to go and buy more, but for the time being, he couldn’t leave Tay on his own. Tay only spoke to ask Ink to go and buy him co-codamol…Nurofen Plus…Solpadeine…cough medicine— anything with codeine. Ink said no to it all.
Attempts to distract Tay mostly failed. Tay didn’t want to watch TV, or be read to, or listen to music. He couldn’t concentrate long enough to play cards or any game Ink pulled up on his laptop, and he shied away whenever Ink came close to touching him. Ink understood why, but it hurt. The only thing Tay asked for, apart from drugs, was steak and chips. Ink was pretty sure it was a ploy to get him out of the house.
ON DAY TWO, AS TAY lay on his bed, Ink heard him quietly crying, and he thought his heart was going to break.
“Tay?” Ink whispered from the door.
“Fuck off.”
“You can do this. You’ll feel better soon.”
“Fuck. Off.”
When Tay managed to keep an energy drink down without throwing it back up, Ink sighed with relief, but didn’t kid himself that Tay was over the worst. One moment, he’d think Tay was improving, then stomach cramps would come out of nowhere to double him up, make him cry out. His nose ran as if he had a streaming cold. He moaned when he moved. He moaned when he didn’t move. He spent a long time in the bathroom with the door locked and when Ink spoke to him, Tay yelled at him to go away. Ink felt guilty, but he wouldn’t give in to Tay’s demands. No medicine. No codeine. Ink took the lock off the bathroom door, but he did respect Tay’s privacy.
There had been one point, when Tay seemed so out of his head, that Ink had wanted to call for help, but Tay snarled at him not to. If you could snarl, then maybe you were okay, Ink thought. Moments of calm lucidity were few, but they came.
ON DAY THREE, INK TRIED to help him shower, and Tay wouldn’t let him. But when Ink heard him fall in the bathroom, he went in, ignored his protests and helped him back to bed, trying to touch him as little as possible.
Sometimes, Tay seemed more like himself, though Ink wondered if he’d ever seen the real Tay, since the Tay he’d first met had been an addict. They had ‘not being themselves’ in common, yet the reasons couldn’t be more different.
