I wake up the next morning to Jacques puking his guts up in my bathroom, at least he made it there in time, I’d of kicked his ass if he hadn’t. I stretch out my achy muscles and rub a hand down my face, running my fingers through my beard. Getting up, I stretch once more and make my way over to the bathroom and lean against the doorframe. He has his hands braced against the porcelain, head straight down the toilet, retching. I laugh to myself and he flips me off.
“Fuck… You,” he says in between retches.
I wet a wash cloth and drape it over the back of his neck. “It serves you right for drinking half the bar last night. What the fuck got into you? And don’t think you’re not telling me about those bruises on your face.”
I see his back tense up and it’s nothing to do with puking. He pulls off the washcloth and wipes his mouth with it.
“Nothing you’ve never done before,” he states weakly.
Can’t argue with that, I’ve been in this state more times that I’d like to count. “Still, I wanna know where you were.”
“Let it go, man. I’m allowed to party, I’m eighteen,” he coughs out.
“Technically, you’re not. The law says twenty-one, dipshit. Now get a shower, then I’m taking you for a ride.”
He rolls his eyes but pulls himself up off the floor and starts to peel off his clothes, shaking uncontrollably. I back out to give him some privacy, I want to give him a beating for not answering his phone all day yesterday, but I feel like a hypocrite. It’s always alright when you’re the one doing it, but when the shoes on the other foot, you see how damaging it is for people to worry about you all the time. He’s never really been a drinker, sure, we’ve got drunk together a couple times, but never anything like the state he was in last night. And the talking in his sleep? That was some disturbed shit.
I hear the shower turn off and he walks out with a towel wrapped around his waist, looking paler than usual. “Got any aspirin? It feels like my heads gonna explode,” he moans, rubbing his temples in a circular motion.
“This won’t help then,” I say mischievously, turning my speakers up full blast so heavy metal booms out of them.
I just can’t help myself and I feel satisfied as he groans and clutches at his head.
“Hunter!” He grinds out.
I chuckle. “Alright, alright.”
I turn it off and watch as he flops back on the bed and I point at him. “I’m taking a shower, you better be dressed and ready to go by the time I get out.” I raid my closet and grab the first pair of jeans and t-shirt I see, then I point at him. “I mean it, Jacques.”
I told him I was taking him for a ride but I didn’t tell him where. He won’t be happy with me when he finds out and I couldn’t give a shit, she’s the only person who’ll ever get him to open up properly.
Much to my surprise, he’s actually fully dressed as I walk back into my room so I pick up my keys, thread my arms through my cut, and motion for him to follow me. I hear him sigh but I ignore it, some fresh air will do him good.
I’ve got three hours until I have to be at work, so I need to make them count. He throws a leg over his bike and takes a moment, closing his eyes tightly.
“Get on,” I command.
He opens his eyes and I’m waiting for him to protest but he doesn’t, he just gets off his bike and swings a leg over mine. “You tell anybody I was ridin’ bitch and I’ll bury you myself.”
My laugh booms out over the parking lot. “Yeah, and if you puke on me I’ll veto that and tell everybody. Got it?”
I see him nod out the corner of my eye and back out of my spot, peeling out onto the open road.
I park up outside the florist and I don’t stop to answer his questions as I walk inside and buy a bunch of sunflowers, her favorite. I climb back on my bike and hand Jacques the flowers, he narrows his eyes at me but I still don’t think he’s caught on to where we’re headed. That is until we turn a few more corners and he tenses.
“Let me off, right now!” He grinds out through clenched teeth. I pretend I can’t hear him. “I’m not kiddin’ around, Hunter. Stop the bike.”
“We’re here, whether you like it or not!” I shout behind me.
“You can’t make me go in there,” he sneers as I park up outside.
I narrow my eyes at him. “Stop acting like a kid, you’re gonna have to go in there sometime.”
“The hell I do!” He shouts, making a couple passing by stare at us.
I lower my voice to a menacing whisper. “That’s enough. I’m going in, whether you come with me or not, I don’t care. Just wait here if you’re going to act like a pussy.”
I don’t wait for a reply, I just walk off toward the gates, flowers in my hand. I find her plot and run my fingers over her headstone.