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Things were heavy enough in the world. We could save that all for later.
So we did what we did best. We spent a lot of fucking time in bed. And the shower, after we perfected wrapping up her arm with plastic bags and duct tape.
Auggie criticized my room, complaining about the lack of pillows and blankets, the bare walls, the fact that I didn't currently have a shade on my nightstand lamp.
She got to know some of my people. And I had a bone-deep concern over the idea of her, Peyton, Lou, and Lenny ever hitting the town as a group. The entire town would be on-edge. That was just too much crazy in one little place.
She charmed the guys by making a home-cooked meal.
She helped entertain the kids who were going a little stir crazy with school being cancelled.
We both dropped off groceries to her uncle's doorstep, having conversations with him through the window with phones.
"I don't like him being all alone," she admitted. "Huck tried to get him down to Florida all the time."
"Yeah, don't old people like moving there? For their joints and shit?"
"I guess people who didn't grow up there. He always hated it. Said he wanted seasons. He doesn't care that he is achy in the cold."
"He never married?"
"He did. She passed like twelve or so years ago. He said there was no replacing her, so he just went on alone. He actually has a pretty tight-knit old dude network. It's cute. They all go to each other's houses and diners and play cards and fish. Now, they are calling each other and watching TV shows together and commenting on them."
"So, he's not really alone, babe."
"No," she agreed. "Still. We rarely ever get to see him on holidays. If I am not working the actual holiday, I am always working the day before or after it. I could never swing it."
"Well, it's good you got to see him now."
"Through a window," she said, sighing.
"Better than nothing."
"Are your sisters regretting they came to visit yet?" she asked, knowing they were holed up in a hotel, trying to figure out if flying back home was a good idea or not.
"They miss their men and kids. Think they might rent a car and drive back."
"All the way to California?"
"Seems like a better bet than flying. Besides, they want to be there to do my mom's shopping for her." She wasn't exactly elderly, but we all worried about her.
"Plus, they get the whole way home to talk about you and your idiocy," she agreed, shooting me a smirk.
"One of their favorite pastimes," I agreed.
"They're nice to you considering all the shit you put them through growing up."
"Hey, it was my job as the only boy to fuck with them."
"So long as they fucked with you back."
"I still have post-traumatic flashbacks to the mayo s'mores incident."
"Mayo instead of marshmallow?"
"In addition to. I puked into the fire pit."
"Did you do something to deserve it first?"
"I did," I agreed, smiling.
"Hey West?" she asked, giving me a hard look.
"Yeah?"
"If you ever screw with my food, I will cut your balls off. Right off."
She would too.
"Got it," I agreed, smiling.Gus - 2 weeksWe'd put off the talk as long as it was reasonable to do so.
Likely because we were both worried about what the other might say, what demands they might make, what sacrifices they would—or wouldn't—be able to live with.
And, I'll admit, I really needed those weeks to sort out my own thought process.
It helped to get to know his town as much as I could and his people when they were still willing to be around, before most of them went home to distance themselves from social interactions.
By the end of the two weeks, the only people around were the two of us, Vance and Ferryn, Sugar and Peyton, and Cash and Lo.
"God, we're those people," Peyton had declared, lips twisted up in disgust, tossing down the cards in her hands.
"What people?" Cash asked.
"Those boring couple-friends people. Who go to one another's houses for game nights and potlucks."
"Frozen lasagna is hardly a potluck," Lo reasoned. "And, normally, we would happily arrange a sex party for you, Peyt, but we're in a lockdown."
"I'm going a little stir-crazy," Peyton admitted. "Thank God for Gus. At least she has some new stories to tell that we haven't all heard fifty-million times. Alright. Come on. I'm done with this," she said, pushing her chair back. "Sugar. Didn't you say something about helping me dye my hair?"
"I said in an emergency situation, if there was no other choice possible, I could possibly help you with that," he objected, eyes full of horror.
"Yes, well, didn't you hear? The whole world is an emergency situation now," she told him, grabbing his hand, pulling him to his feet.
"That's not really what that means..."
