Chapter Seventeen

After almost a week of warehouse inspections and completing other people's work, I welcomed the change to working a beat for New Year's Eve. I had talked to Ari several times on the phone over the previous five days, but he hung out with his new friends.

At the close of the year, I broke up almost a dozen fights and sent at least as many people to the drunk tank, much more than the previous year. The mayor extended curfew for New Year's, so the bars remained open until one o'clock.

I prepared to head home for the night and my phone rang. I dug through my coat pockets. A sour taste filled my mouth at the sight of Ari's name. I answered, but no one responded. I strained to make out anything familiar in the loud background noise. 

A faint voice sounded, "I don't think I'm going to make it home." 

My heart threatened to pound out of my chest. Instantly, I flew towards the SIS barracks neighborhood. The agents frequently hung out at the bar outside the barracks. If only I could run faster.

Even though it should have been winding down, the party raged on. I pushed my way through the crowd and checked every table. Towards the back, I found him, slumped over and all alone. They got him trashed and left him. I walked over, picked up his arm, and put it around my neck. When I lifted him up, he opened his eyes and looked around.

"You made it," he slurred.

"Yes, I made it. Now I need you to help me help you. Can you walk at all?"

We ambled outside. I worried about alcohol poisoning, so I decided to bring him back to my place. Anyone else would go to the drunk tank. Twice he stopped to vomit. I did not care that it splashed on my uniform, as long as the alcohol evacuated his system. When we arrived, I used the back door to prevent waking the landlady. We struggled up the three flights of stairs to my loft.

I laid him down on the couch, and then grabbed a bucket from under the sink and placed it next to his face. A strong solution of salt water forced him to throw up anything left in his stomach. I ran on autopilot, although it had been years since I did that for my parents. I stayed up most of the night to ensure he did not vomit in his sleep and choke. Periodically I put a fresh cool washcloth around his neck. When I finally relaxed, tears threatened to fall. That was not something I ever wanted to do again.

My childhood memories flooded back. I tried hard to forget those days. Every night my parents had come home to drink the day away. Factory jobs consisted of long, grueling hours in sweatshop conditions and all the pain they had endured reflected back to me ten-fold. It had grown worse every year. My only reprieve had been to sneak out in the middle of the night with my neighborhood friends.

By the time I was a teenager, I had had to learn how to treat alcohol poisoning. The first time it happened, I had called the paramedics and they had beaten me for it. The hospital cost too much. Heaven forbids if dinner was not ready on time or the house was not clean enough. 

My twin brothers, Dylan and Zack, were five years younger. My parents did not treat them the same way. After all, they would carry on the family name and take over for my father. My mother and brothers reminded me every day that I did not have a future, a worthless girl. My father never uttered a word. I grew to resent them, tiptoeing through life as to not anger any of them.

The night after my sixteenth birthday, my brothers taunted me, complaining about dinner.

"Can't you do anything right?" Dylan sneered.

"You know she can't. I mean she can't even cook something good for dinner," Zack added. "We don't want chicken again. We told you we want steak."

"Gimme a break. I can only cook the food from the ration line. They don't take requests," I said. "Can't you just eat what I prepared?"

Their eyes met and they smirked. Simultaneously, they rushed to me and yanked down on the apron. I lost my balance and fell forward. Pain shot up my legs as my knees smashed on the floor.

Something inside me snapped. I reached out and shoved Dylan. He stumbled backward and smacked his back on the kitchen table. An ear-piercing wailing filled the air. My mother raced into the room and jerked me to my feet by the shirt collar.

"B*****d! How dare you hurt the boys," she screamed.

The beer aroma emanating from her made me sick. Her open hand moved clumsily toward my face. A guttural roar erupted from my mouth. Adrenaline rushed through my body as I grasped her arm and drove her up against the refrigerator. Her eyes turned into saucers and her jaw fell. I did not want anything except to hurt her. As soon as her back hit the door, I flew back into the dining room and looked at my father's back.

"Leave," he ordered. "Leave and never come back."

The memory depressed me further.  Eventually, I dozed off.  After a couple hours of sleep, I still woke up at 5 AM. Ari snored quietly. I chose to do my morning workout, so as to not arouse suspicion. When I got back, nothing changed. I did not do much on my days off; I usually sat at home and read. My loft apartment did not have much furniture, so I sat at one of the two chairs at the table.

Around one o'clock in the afternoon, Ari stirred. He perched at the edge and dropped his head in his hands. I poured a cup of ginger tea and carried it over to him.

"Here, drink this. It'll help settle your stomach," I said.

His eyes flitted up as he accepted the cup. His face was pale.

"Where am I?"

I walked to the refrigerator and pulled out a plastic bottle.

"My apartment."

He did not respond at first.

"How did I get here?" he asked a minute later. Then he set the cup on the coffee table and put his head back in his hands.

I spun around. "You called me. I found you alone in that bar by the barracks." I did not try to hide the annoyance in my voice.

"How did you find me?"

"It was my job to know what's going on in this city, which includes the SIS hangouts."

"Why did you bring me here?"

"Would you rather wake up in a cell or in the hospital with alcohol poisoning? What the hell were you thinking? After what you saw that night at the club, you still went out and drank that s**t anyway," I said, raising my voice.

"I don't know. I am trying to remember. My head hurts; I do not want to argue."

I swiped a pill bottle from the counter and tossed it in his lap. He flinched.

"That will help take the edge off." I contemplated throwing the drink at him too. Instead, I walked to the coffee table and held it out. He stood on wobbly legs.

"What's this?"

"An electrolyte drink. You can more from the pharmacist or the clinic. You're severely dehydrated."

He snatched the bottle and then forced a brief smile . "I need to get back. I need to pack. Field training starts tomorrow." He spotted his shoes by the door and stepped into them.

"I'll show you how you can get back," I said as I walked to the door. I led him downstairs and out the front door. I pointed north. "Main Street is that way."

He nodded and walked off.

"Be safe," I called out.

He just waved his hand to acknowledge he heard me and kept walking.

I went back inside, a mix of emotions. To my chagrin, the landlady popped her head out of the door.

"I didn't know you had a guest," she said.

"Oh, Miss Mochni, sorry if I made any noise coming down, I tried to be quiet. They always bother me on my days off." As the center of the gossip circles, the whole town would find out that a man was in my apartment if I was not careful.

"Oh I just happened to hear you, it wasn't too loud. You must have arrived pretty late last night."

"Yes, it was late. I worked the North West beat to help them out."

"Oh, yes, the stories about New Year's celebrations up there are concerning. Thank the Lord you came back safe."

"Thank you. I think I am going to relax the rest of the day now. Nice talking to you Miss Mochni."

"Don't let them work you too hard now, Miss Andrews."

"I won't, thanks again." I was glad to cut the conversation short. There were days in the past when she talked to me for an hour.

Upstairs, I scrubbed the couch, the floor, and the bucket. However, it did not stop there. The entire apartment received a thorough cleaning. When I finished, I sat back at the table with head on my arms. How was I supposed to feel? A week ago, things were so much different. I felt like I lost him already. The thoughts of running away flooded my mind. However, that time, I remembered my recent conversations with Alain and Kevin. There were good people in this city. They needed help, more than I could offer. Of course, I could not leave Blake and the other kids. For the first time in years, I crashed in the afternoon and did not wake up until the next morning.