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“Jesus.” He pauses, then gets out, comes around to my side, and lifts me out again. I stand by the flowerbeds, bent over with my hands on my knees, then vomit over the lobelia.
He sighs, goes back to the car to get a water bottle, and hands it to me. I take a mouthful, rinse, and spit, then let him lead me back to the passenger seat.
He drives me home, not saying anything, and takes my keys from me to open the door.
“I don’t want coffee,” I mumble.
“You’re going to drink a bottle of water, and then you’re going to sleep,” he informs me. He grabs a bottle of water from the fridge, takes me down the stairs to my bedroom, and guides me to the bed. He stands over me until I’ve drunk the whole bottle, then makes me lie back and pulls off my shoes.
“Lock the door on your way out,” I mumble as he heads for the door.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he says. “You’ll only choke on your vomit, and if you have a rock-star death I’ll never hear the end of it from Mum. I’ll be back in a minute.” He disappears up the stairs.
I look out of the window. The sun has set, and the stars are popping out on the night sky. I remember Christmas Eve, when Alice told me the theory about the Star of Bethlehem being a conjunction of… something. I’m too tired and drunk to remember, but I remember her soft voice, and the way she whispered,I miss you too. I miss her so much it’s a physical pain in my stomach, my head, my chest, in my heart.
Footsteps sound on the stairs, and Damon comes back into the room carrying an ice pack wrapped in a cloth. He toes off his shoes, goes around the other side of the bed, climbs on, and sits up against the pillows, pressing the pack to my bruised face.
“I’m lonely,” I tell him, “but I’m not that desperate.”
“Ha ha. You’re an idiot.”
“Tell me something I don’t know. I didn’t mean to hit him.”
“Yes you did. And he deserved it. Honestly, I feel about five years older than both of you.”
I sigh.
“I’m sorry about Alice,” he says, moving the pack to my cheekbone. “Maybe she’ll feel differently when she calms down.”
“I don’t think she will.”
“You never know. It’s funny what love makes people do. Apparently. Not had much experience with it myself.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I mumble. “Don’t tell me you’ve been going down to Christchurch just to see Alexander.” The guy was his best mate at school and university. Damon’s been helping him out with a project, but he’s been going down more than I would have thought was necessary, and Saxon and I have privately wondered whether he’s seeing someone down there.
“I’m working for him,” he says, amused.
“Nothing to do with his two young, beautiful sisters?”
“Alex would kill me if I went near either of them.”
“True. So why are you smiling?”
“Fuck off,” he says mildly, covering my eye again.
“Ouch.” I sigh.
We don’t talk for a while. Holding the pack to my eye, Damon flicks through his phone. I’m dog tired, but thoughts keep racing around.
Eventually I say, “Do you ever feel guilty for having money?”
“I thought you were asleep.”
“Brain won’t stop. So, do you?”
“No. Dad worked hard for what he has, and so do we.”
“Why do those without money refuse to accept help?”
