Chapter 28: Twenty Six - Morning

Morning

October:

“Long-sleeved? Are you sure?” I woke up to the sound of Patty’s questioning voice. “Won’t you be warm? Or is there a specific reason you want that particular shirt?”

Blinking at the startling brightness in the room, I sat up and rubbed my eyes sleepily. It was morning already? It felt like I hadn’t been sleeping for more than a few minutes. Through the vent, I heard Parish laugh sarcastically. “Okay, first of all, it’s like a freakin’ igloo in here.” I nodded at that one; the rooms Parish and I had been locked up in didn’t have a functioning heater system, and we’d spent the last night wrapped up tightly in the thing sheets provided for us. At least, I had. “And second of all,” Parish continued, “can’t a guy ask for a shirt without having his motives questioned?”

“In this institute? No, he can’t.” Patty retorted, sounding slightly miffed. “So are you going to tell me why you want this particular shirt or not?”

“Depends.” He said. “What are you going to do if I don’t tell you?”

“I’ll go to Dr. Larkson and tell her you’re withholding information.”

“Withholding information? What is this, Law and Order?” I have to remind myself not to laugh out loud. “You’re no Mariska Hargitay, I’ll tell you that.”

“Mr. Feltman.” Patty’s voice is frustrated; stern. If Parish’s goal had been to annoy her, he succeeded. “If you don’t tell me why you want the shirt, I’ll… I’ll… I’ll bring you something else!”

I didn’t need to see or hear him to know that he was probably rolling his eyes dramatically at her. “Jesus, it’s just a shirt Patty. But if you must know, it’s a shirt my aunt gave me and I just wanted to wear it, okay?”

“Oh no. Your father really should have informed us that your clothes were meaningful too.” Patty complained, mostly to herself than to Parish. “I mean, honestly. There are keepsake boxes for a reason.”

“Calm down.” Parish was probably rolling his eyes again. I just knew it. “The only kind of emotions that shirt is going to stir will be happy ones. There’s no need for you to throw such a fit.” There’s a sheepish ‘oh’ from Patty before Parish says, “Plus, my father can’t warn you about things he doesn’t know about.”

I heard an exasperated huff from Patty before the door slammed shut. I couldn’t help but shake my head at Parish’s antics as I slipped off the hard bed and proceeded to make it. A minute later, as I was tucking in the corners of the sheet in, the door to my own room opened and Patty walked in. Her face showed a faint trace of annoyance, but, to her credit, she tried to look as cheerful as she could for me. “Good morning dear. Did you sleep well.”

“Not really.” I answered, fluffing up the pillow. “The mattress isn’t really that comfortable and it’s kind of cold in here.”

“Oh, so I take it you want a long-sleeved t-shirt too?”

“Too?” I repeated, raising my eyebrow.

“Parish wanted one as well.” She answered dismissively. “Is there anything in particular you’d like me to get for you?” I guessed that since she was already bringing Parish his desired clothes, she figured she’d do the same for me. Nice of her.

“Um, I don’t know.” I ran a hand through my hair, trying to untangle some of the knots. “Maybe the peach shirt with the black stripes…? And my black jeans.”

“Would Miss Hendrix know which ones you’re talking about?” I nodded. “Okay, then. That can be arranged. I’ll be back with your clothes and then escort you to the bathroom for you to take a shower and brush your teeth, okay?”

“Okay.”

She turned away from me stepped out of the room. She was about to close the door behind her when, remembering something, she paused and turned back to me. “Oh, I almost forgot; is there any particular underwear you’d like me to bring you? Toiletries?”

I felt the heat rush to my cheeks at Patty’s words, knowing fully well that, on the other side of the wall, Parish could hear everything Patty and I said. It didn’t matter whether or not I wanted a particular kind of underwear; I wasn’t going to discuss it with Patty knowing that he could hear us.

“Um… no toiletries.” I mumbled, flushing. I was indescribably thankful that it wasn’t that time of the month yet. “You can ask Kara about the…” I paused, reluctant to say the word. I was pathetic. “The, um…” Patty raised an eyebrow, silently urging me to finish my sentence so that she could get on with her work. “The underwear. She’ll help you.”

If Patty was puzzled by my shyness, she didn’t say anything. Instead, she simply nodded and walked out, shutting the door behind her softly. A few seconds after she left, the sounds of quiet laughter reached my ears. Glowering, I dropped down to the floor. “Shut up.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He chuckled, not sounding the least bit apologetic. “But you have to admit, that was funny.”

“Shut it, Parish. You should be worried what kind of undies she’s gonna bring you. I don’t remember her asking you what you wanted.” The laughter ceased instantly.

“Damn.”

Suddenly, the Mariska Hargitay joke popped into my head, and it was my turn to chuckle. “Question;” I said. “Why do you feel the need to act like a complete tool all the time? The only person I’ve seen you being even remotely nice to is Sid.” I paused and, as an afterthought, added, “Well, him and me.” Another pause. “Sometimes.”

“Well, everyone already expects me to be a tool, so why disappoint?” I could picture him shrugging nonchalantly.

“Life would probably be a lot easier for you if you were a little nicer to people, you know.”

“Now where’s the fun in that?” I shook my head, chuckling quietly to myself. After a few seconds he asks, “How’d you sleep?”

“Okay. You?”

“Slept as well I could on this excuse for a mattress.” He complained. “No nightmares?”

“No nightmares.” My fingers absently strayed to the, now healing, marks on my wrist, and I suddenly remembered everything that happened the previous night. “How are the cuts?” I ask softly.

There was a noticeably large pause before Parish answered. “They’re okay.”

“Parish.” I didn’t recognize the voice that came out of my mouth. It sounded more like my mother’s no-nonsense tone rather than my own. I didn’t quite know how to feel about that.

“I swear. They’re okay.” He assured me. “I just need to keep them covered until they heal. I’ll be screwed if anyone sees them.”

“Patty didn’t notice them earlier?”

“Nope. I was still in bed when she walked in and woke me up. Used the sheet to cover them.”

“How’re you going to hide them from her when she escorts you to the bathroom?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I’ll think of something.” The sound of the Parish’s door opening stopped me from speaking again.

“What are you doing on the floor?” Patty’s confused voice rang through the vent. I held my breath, standing up as slowly and quietly as possible and climbing onto the bed. I cross my legs underneath me, Indian style and waited patiently for Parish’s reply.

“My morning stretches.” He answered simply. I heard a soft grunt follow his words, as if he’d thrown a stretch in to accompany the lie. The boy certainly knew how to put on an act. “Why?”

“Oh. I didn’t know you did morning exercises.”

“And now you do.” I rolled my eyes. It was like he kept unconsciously reverting to that devil-may-care attitude that constant ticked people off; like it was some kind of defense mechanism for him. Maybe it was, I didn’t know.

I could hear the annoyance in Patty’s tone when she spoke again. “I brought your clothes. Do you want to go to the bathroom first, or shall I take October before you?”

There’s another grunt before he answers. “Take her first. I’m not done with my stretches yet.”

“Fine.” Patty’s tone sounded considerably lighter now that she didn’t have to deal with him anymore. “I’ll be back later then.”

“Can’t wait.” The sarcasm was heavy. Half a minute after Patty slammed his room door shut, mine opened.

“Come on.” She said, walking into the room and handing me a pile of clothes and a towel. “Shower time.”