When I stir awake, I hear voices.
Margos; "I did the best I could"
Shanks; "then why isn't she fucking up?"
Lynol's; "calm the fuck down and watch how you talk to my old lady, I am so fucking tired of telling you, Shank."
Shanks grunt is his reply.
"Dad? Is mom up? Is she going to be ok?" Comes Shane's small wobbly voice.
I want to open my eyes and smile at Shane, for finally calling shank dad and to assure him that I'm just fine, but my eye lids are heavy as hell and I drift back off into the nothingness we all come from.
Where's Schiz?
"She's up!" I hear Shane shout.
With some effort, I open my eyes to find my son curled into a chair beside where I lay on the bar with a blanket wrapped around him.
I place my hand on his leg. He instantly grabs it with both of his, crying. "Why are you crying, baby?" I ask him.
"I was scared you wouldn't wake up, mom. Like snow white. I tried to get dad to kiss you but he said that probably wouldn't be smart. But you woke up all on your own." He rushes out in one big breath. His brown eyes are huge and shiny.
I laugh, which hurts, and end up groaning.
"He's probably right." I sit up and hop down off the bar, swaying only a little. Shane rushes off his chair to help me. But there's not much a six year old can do.
Shank and Lynol appear with Jewel, Panik, and Whiskey. I turn and glance at my shoulder in the mirror behind the barn. The bullets still in there but the area was cleaned pretty well.
Well hell. I guess I gotta get this thing out myself.
I grab a bottle of whatever booze wasn't shattered and chug it. Shank just watches me, mildly surprised.
I slam it back down on the bar and grab my medical bag before ripping off the sleeve of my shirt all the way off. This is gonna hurt.
"Shane, go play." I meet my child's eyes in the mirror. He shakes his head and I raise an eyebrow at him. No?
I look over at Shank and purse my lips. What the hell has he been teaching our son. He shakes his head. "I did not fucking teach him that, Missy. Don't fucking start with me." He warns me.
I turn around to face them all again. Still no sign of schiz. Where the fuck is he?
"No?" I repeat back at Shane. He shakes his head.
"No. I wanna stay here with you. Keep you safe." He states proudly. I smile.
"Ok. But if you can't handle the blood, then just let me know so Aunt Margo can take you with the other kids." I cave into him.
He nods and I start digging out this bullet in my shoulder.
Shank takes the scalpel and clamps from me and spins my back to face him. Not wanting to argue, I just let him be. I'm sure he's dug out plenty of bullets in his days.
My shoulder burns with pain but I can tell shank is being as gentle as one can be trying to dig into another human. Shane never once looks away, just watches as one parents digs into the other ones flesh. I'm surprised, to be honest. Shane is tougher than he looks. Yeah, he cries. But everyone cries, even if no one else sees them do it.
"Its good, babe. Where's the shit to stitch it." Shank drops the bullet in my palm.
"The bag." I mutter as I stare down at the little thing. The smallest of things can hurt the most.
"I see you're up." Schiz enters into the lunge and walks over to us. I smile at him and nod.
"Where were you?" I ask him.
"Damage control." He answers. I nod again and rest my head on my knees.
He stands there and watches along with Shane as my sons father stitches me up and cleans the area again and covers it.
I stand and hold the shirt against my chest. Wouldn't you known it, the bullet hit me right in the bra strap so now that shit is gone.
"I gotta shirt, hold on." Shank wipes his bloody hands on a towel and disappears into the hall.
Glass still covers the floor but I glance at shane to make sure he's wearing shoes.
I grab the broom behind the counter and start sweeping up glass with one hand.
It's difficult but not impossible so. But I only get a few strokes in before Schiz takes it from me to do it himself. He doesn't say anything.
"Are you ok?" I ask him. He doesn't answer right away.
"Yeah. Ready to go home, babe, is all." But he doesn't face me. Not knowing what else to say or do, I just wait for Shank to return with a shirt.
"This one least smelled." He appears with a blue shirt.
I hold my hand out for it but he shakes his head and ruffles the shirt up like I used to do when I dressed Shane.
I just let him dress me, too tired to fight with him. Maybe it's wrong and overly sexual to be doing infront of Shane or even my boyfriend but I can't care right now. I was just shot.
I turn to face him after he ensures it doesn't rub against my shoulder and he stops the shirt right before it gets to my belly button. I look at him to see him staring down at my stomach. His hand traces my scar from Shanes c section. I shiver.
"I wish I had been there." He tells me. His voice low and soft. It only reminds me of our conversation earlier.
I pull away from him. My own hand absent mindedly tracing the scar. "Me too." Is all I say as I lift shane up, my shoulder protesting, and leave out with Schiz who waited by the door watching us.
He doesn't touch me like he usually does while we drive home in Panik's truck.
"You coming in?" I ask as Shane runs up to the front door. Schiz stays in the truck.
I watch him as he just stares ahead. "I think we need some time, Missy." He finally says. My chest tightens.
"What? why?" I ask.
He just shakes his head. We were doing good earlier.
"Because I don't think you know what you want. And I don't want you dragging me around until you do. I have feelings too." He snaps. I flinch at his tone. So harsh.
"I want you." I tell him.
He shakes his head again.
"I don't think you do. I think you want to teach Shank some twisted lesson or some shit. But we had fun, right?" He spits, finally looking at me. In his eyes, I see fear and loath.
"Just go." He looks forward again.
Like usual, when I get into surreal situations, I don't know what to say or do. But I get out like I was told and walk to the front door in a daze.
"Mom! Mom!" Shane's voice is high pitched and shrilly. Snapping out of my trance and putting aside my complicated love life I run down the hall, fearing the worse.
Shane stands over his bunny cage, looking down at it with tears running down his face. I step a little closer to see Mr. Jingles laying there still.
Oh no.
"Oh, baby. Its ok. " I pull my son to me. He cries harder into my shirt. I try soothing him by running my fingers through his hair.
"We can bury him tomorrow, ok? Have a little funeral. I had a cat that died once and he's buried back there too so Mr. Jingles will have a friend." Shane nods at my words.
"Can dad come?" He asks.
The last thing I want right now is to talk to shank but he and Shane are finally making progress. So I nod and scoot him to shower before bed.
With a deep breath I hit call on my home phone. I still have to get a new phone.
"Missy?" He answers.
Clearing my throat, I say, "Hey. I'm calling because Mr. Jingles is dead and your son wants you at his funeral tomorrow." That's smooth, real smooth.
There's a pause.
"A funeral? For a rabbit? Fucking seriously?"
"Yes! Fucking seriously." I snap.
"The fuck you yelling for? All I did was ask a question." He snaps back.
"Are you gonna come or not, Shane?" I ask him. I'm in the verge of losing my patience.
"Yeah-"
"Great. See you then." I hang up the phone.
A few minutes later Shane comes back in him room wrapped in a Spider-Man towel shivering and still crying. Stretching out my arm, I call him to me and hold him for a moment.
"Lets get ready for bed." I help him into some underwear and a shirt and tuck him into bed then lay beside him. Needing his comfort as much as he needs mine.
He falls asleep a couple of moments later and my mind back tracks to Schiz and earlier and why he ended us so abruptly. We were just making things clear and permanent then he just says I'm confused and tells me to leave. After I get shot too, no less. That's mad fucking rude.
Lost in my thoughts, I end up falling asleep next to Shane and don't wake back up till I feel like I'm swaying.
Opening my eyes I come face to face with a leather clad broad chest. My heart picks up speed thinking it's Schiz and he's came back to apologize and make up. But the patch reads Stg at Arms. I look up to find Shank looking back down at me with a calculated face. Disappointment floods through me and my heart sags it's shoulders. He's carrying me. Where? Why? Why is he here? I'm getting tired of him just letting himself in.
He lays me gently on my bed before standing back up straight and turning for the door to leave.
"No. Come lay with me." I lift an arm out to him. I just really want the comfort of another human right now. He stops for a minute and stands there before turning to face me.
"What?'' He asks.
"Please. Just until I fall asleep." I ask again. I can see he wants to. He has a fist clenched at his side. Controlling himself.
"Schiz wouldn't like that." Like he gives a damn about what Schiz does or doesn't like. What's he's really asking is, "Did something happen? And are y'all still together?"
I huff. "That's not an issue anymore." The blanket is soft as I pat the bed beside me. He takes another second to think before kicking off his boots and laying his cut on the dresser. I watch him as he strips down to his plain black boxers. A bulge evident but neither of us say anything about it.
Cautiously, he lifts the blanket and lies next to me stiffly. I roll over and throw annarm around his chest and a leg over his muscular thighs, clinging to him and savoring the feel of him. We've never been this intimate before. Sexually, yes. Of course. But not intimate like this. Like a couple. Or even friends.
He relaxes after a minute and puts an arm around my waist under me and draws us closer. I place my head on his chest and feel my eyes draw shut.
"Wanna talk about it?" He asks awkwardly. I snort.
"Nope. Not about Schiz. Not about us. I just wanna sleep."
And I do. A deep black abyss of sleep. No dream. No nightmare. Just darkness. With the comfort of shanks body, weight, and heat next me. Wrapped around me. Engulfing me.