I pull the comforter off of the bed with my free hand. Once the bedding is out of the way, I toss the photo album onto the mattress. I quickly make my way to the window, sliding it closed and locking it before turning back around and snatching up the photo album from the bed. Cautiously, I take the last few steps in Deacon’s direction, scared I may frighten him if I approach too fast.
“D, I’m going to cover you with the blanket, okay?” I decide to give him a play-by-play, hoping he remains calm.
His eyes drag up from the floor, and when they land on mine, chills roll down my back. I feel like I’m staring into a vast space of nothingness. There’s a void where there used to be a life. But, in a matter of seconds, the vacancy disappears, and Deacon is no longer in a trance-like state.
“Kade, where am I?”
What the fuck?
“You’re at my house, in the room you always crash in.” I sit on the floor beside Deacon and cover us with the comforter I pulled off of the bed. “You don’t remember Britney bringing you here after you were discharged from the hospital earlier today?”
Deacon sits and thinks about what I just told him. At first, I think he’s so out of it he’s not going to remember, but then it’s as if his memory suddenly comes back, and the light goes on in his head.
“Yeah. My parents and Sydnee were here too, right?”
“Yeah, they were. Your sister is still here. Do you want me to get her?”
He shakes his head.
“Kade, I feel like I’m losing my mind. After jumping out of the window, I was going to walk home, but then I forgot where I was at, what I was doing, and where I was going. When I snapped out of the confused state I was in, I realized I wasn’t far from your house, so I came here. I didn’t remember leaving here until I came back and saw the window open. That’s when I remembered.”
My friend is more fucked up than I thought. How in the hell did he get released?
“Has this happened before—in the hospital?”
“What? Forgetting things. No.”
“Do you need to go back to the hospital?” I’m out of my league here. I’m a cop, not a shrink.
“No. That place is a fuckin’ nightmare. Maybe I’m just tired and need some sleep?”
“Do you want me to leave?”
“No,” he mutters. “What’s that?” Deacon nods in the direction of the photo album I forgot I was holding. My best friend is losing his mind, and I don’t know how to navigate anything with him. I’m afraid I might say the wrong thing, and he flips out, or worse, I send him spiraling back into his head where he only sees the deceased mother and child.
“It’s a photo album from when we were kids. I thought we could laugh at our younger selves.”
I hand the book over to Deacon, letting him be in charge of turning the pages at his own pace. He takes the album and opens it at the beginning. The title is “The Adventures of Deacon & Kade,” and the first five pages hold photos from a Winslow camping trip we took to the lake that year. Following those pages are ones from the European tour we took with my mom, and then more camping and other trips, up until high school.
“I didn’t know you had all of these pictures. Where did you get them?”
“Camera phone, dummy. I printed them at home. As you can tell, the earlier pictures are from the first camera phone I had. They’re grainy compared to the ones toward the end of the album.”
“Why don’t I remember taking these?”
“Why would you? It wasn’t your phone. Your mom or my mom would take the pictures. Sometimes Brit did too, but I didn’t trust her not to break my phone.” Britney was a clumsy girl when she was younger. She couldn’t walk and chew gum at the same time. But as every kid does, Brit grew out of that stage. Hell, she grew out of it before she was in high school. Our laughter fills the room, and it puts my mind at ease that my best friend is still there. He just needs time to work through his shit.
“Kade?” I look in Deacon’s direction, and the light that was in his eyes just moments ago has vanished. I sit quietly, nodding that he has my attention. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t afraid to hear what’s coming next. “We fucked up, bro. What’s next for us? Jail?”
Goddammit. I don’t want to talk about this shit tonight. I want Deacon to have one night of—fuck, I don’t know—peace.
“Not tonight. We can talk about that tomorrow.”
“Okay.” My stomach is in knots as Deacon sits with his eyes focused on the album in his lap. Now that I think about it, Deacon’s mental stability isn’t the only reason I don’t want to talk about that day or the days to come. I’m not mentally prepared to head down that path, and who knows if I will be tomorrow, but I’ll keep my promise to my partner.
We stay seated on the floor, sharing the comforter as Deacon begins flipping through the pages of the album once again. Reminiscing about the good times we have shared over the past twenty-two years lightens our mood, a stark contrast to the weight I feel in my chest for what’s to come.
Holy fuck. My ass and back are killing me. I open my eyes, and I’m staring at Dexter and Britney lying on the end of the bed, staring down at me. Then I feel movement on my left shoulder, and that’s when Deacon’s head rolls forward, landing in my lap.
“Bro! Nope. I have to draw a line somewhere,” I tell him while shifting my weight. Britney laughs, and when I look back up at the bed, she snaps a picture with her phone. Oh hell.
“What the fuck, bro?” Deacon sits up and takes in his surroundings. He tilts his head from side to side to crack his neck before standing. Once upright, he then twists his upper and lower body in opposite directions to crack his back before repeating the same movement reversed.
“Hey, you fell asleep on me,” I remind him as I stand and hear my knees pop and back crack. I’m not old, but I am too old to be sleeping on the damn floor.
“How in the fuck do you know that? You fell asleep first,” he barks back.
“All I know is I have some great blackmail pictures,” Britney informs us. Her cheeky grin is annoying the fuck out of me, but hey, the mood is light, and that’s all I want. “You boys want breakfast? I’m happy to cook.”
“I could eat,” we respond in unison.
“Freshen up. You both look like hammered shit. I’ll be in the kitchen.” Britney hops off the bed and grabs Dexter, setting him on the floor. As she leaves the room, his little puppy legs jog to keep up with her, but the hardwood floors are slippery, and he hasn’t mastered coordination by any means. My dog would rather be with Britney, and I like that he wants to be with her. Fuck, I love having her in my home, but a dick punch from my best friend reminds me that I can’t have her.
“What the fuck, bro?”
“I saw the way you were watching my sister leave.”
“I was watching my dog,” I lie.
“Mmhmm. We’ll talk after breakfast, right?” Deacon couldn’t just enjoy the morning. He had to block out the sunlight before it had a chance to shine.
“As promised.” I don’t look forward to that conversation, but I can’t avoid it either.