Chapter Four
by Nelson
Riley drained the last of the coffee in his mug and grimaced at the lukewarm liquid that filled his mouth. Hot was good and iced was decent, but lukewarm was downright nasty. He went to the kitchen and put his mug in the sink, then wiped down the counters. He and Colin had shared a quick breakfast then Colin was out the door to spend the morning with his parents.
"You're sure you don't want to tag along?" Colin had asked.
"No," Riley replied. "I love your folks but I think I'll stay and work in the yard some here."
After much debate, Colin reluctantly gave in and went to his parents' alone. It wasn't going alone that bothered him. Riley knew the man too well. He didn't want to leave Riley to work at their house alone. Colin had tried to convince him to wait until they could work together, but Riley had assured him it was ok.
Riley had no intention of making Colin feel guilty about spending time with his parents. In fact, Riley felt somewhat guilty himself for not going along. He loved Colin's parents almost as much as his own, but they had just been by a few nights earlier to see the house, so he wasn't neglecting them. Riley was looking forward to some time alone to decompress after several weeks of hard work. Besides, it wasn't like he and Colin were joined at the hip; Colin could go to his parents' without Riley tagging along and Riley could start on the yard by himself.
Riley sighed and put his palms to his lower back, stretching the tight muscles around his spine. Gazing through the storm door, he wasn't sure where to start outside. It needed so much work; it was overwhelming, but he had the whole day to himself and could take his time, doing whatever he felt inclined to in the yard. He could work on it all day and barely make a dent, he realized.
The sidewalk had cracked and shifted in several places over time, and needed to be torn up and replaced. That would have to wait for another day. Then there was the aged landscaping that was out of control. The only appealing thing about the yard was the grass that had become well-established over time, providing a thick carpet despite the overgrown brush edging the house.
He decided the place to start was with cutting back the brush and digging up whatever shrubs lay underneath. It would take most of the day, depending on what he found as he cleared away the overgrowth. He went upstairs to change clothes and paused midway up the staircase to gaze out the small window in the stairwell toward the church next door.
He wondered whose idea it was to put a window there – it was odd to say the least – but he marveled at the intricate detail and workmanship in the glass. Riley ran a finger along a strip of lead encasing one panel of glass. It didn't need a curtain, not with the fancy mini-panes of design, drawn together to create the full window. It was almost like a stained glass window without color, the only stain being the view of the cemetery poised between the house and the church.
Forgetting the window, Riley continued to the bedroom and dug around in the dresser drawers to find some work clothes. Pulling on a pair of old jeans and a t-shirt, Riley started toward the door to go downstairs. The box in the corner caught his eye; it had been sitting there for three weeks, neither he nor Colin finding the time to sort it and put it away.
Not remembering what was inside, he went over to open it. Right on top was his old high school yearbook; this was one of the boxes of storage stuff they had packed from their old apartment. It needed to be put away somewhere, but where? The dirt-floored basement was no good, not for a cardboard box. Then Riley remembered the attic. That should work.
Putting it up in the attic wouldn't take him too far off track either, he reasoned. The yard had been neglected for years and another ten minutes wouldn't make or break it. He hefted the box up from the floor groaning as he shifted the weight in his arms. He set it out in the hallway and hooked the attic stairs, pulling them down amid flurries of dust bunnies scampering in the air as he lowered the steps. He coughed and fanned away the tiny particles and tentatively stepped on the lower rung, testing it for support.
He thought briefly of Colin, who would have a stroke if he knew Riley was climbing the ancient pull-down stairs alone in the house. Riley dismissed the thought, and figured putting the box away would be one less thing for them to deal with later. Besides, he could handle the box, heavy or not, as long as the pull-down steps could support his weight. They seemed solid enough and Riley imagined they weren't as old as the house. Didn't they use ladders in the old days? The pull-downs couldn't have been around a hundred years ago.
His decision made, he hoisted the box and started climbing, step by step, until he reached the top. Trapped heat in the closed-up attic surrounded him as he emerged through the entryway, the air feeling thick and heavy like the dust covering the aged attic floor. It didn't look like anyone had been up there for a while, judging from the spider webs tickling his face. Riley sat the box down and looked around for a light, finding none. He blinked, his eyes adjusting to the dark, the attic barely lit with the thin strands of light pouring in from cracks in the eaves.
A sharp knock behind him made Riley's heartbeat quicken and he whipped his head toward the sound, but he saw nothing. Except…
In the shadows of the attic, an old trunk sat forgotten in the corner along with a rocking chair, turned over to rest against it as though protecting the box as a treasure. Riley took a deep breath as he tried to still his heart from the loud thump that had gotten his attention to begin with.
"House is settling," he said reassured himself aloud. Can a house still settle after so many years, reason asked? He shook his head against that last thought and realized it might not be settling, but it would creak and moan with age on any given day. That's all it was. An old house creaking.
He stopped rationalizing as his thoughts were interrupted by a nagging curiosity. He carefully made his way over to the corner, stepping gingerly on the aged boards protecting the ceilings beneath his feet from being trampled. He reached out to right the rocking chair, hugging the trunk beneath it with its arms, and settled the chair on its base with a thud in the quiet attic. As Riley released it, the chair began rocking gently back and forth, slowing with each sway until it came to a complete stop.
The trunk silently begged to be opened, sitting alone once the rocking chair was removed. Riley knelt in front of it reverently, admiring the design at the hands of some unknown artist from years gone by. He worked the latch on the front of the humpbacked chest, but it held strong, the built-in lock still protecting the contents after so many years. He pushed his thumb against the catch, gritting his teeth as he put his muscle into it, but the latch refused to give in. Riley straightened up and put his hands on his hips, glaring at the box as though it held the secret to unleashing its contents.
He sighed and turned his attention to the rocker. He reached out a finger and jabbed at the back of the chair, and it started its sway once again. Not bad, Riley thought. It was clearly an older piece of furniture and could possibly use a refinishing, but it had character. It should look nice in the corner of the living room. Or maybe the upstairs hallway, he decided on second thought.
The old house's hallways, both upstairs and down, were reminiscent of the days when the house was built; large and open walkways, inviting to those who passed through them. Not narrow passageways like in newer homes. At the end of the upstairs hallway, the area near the window was almost large enough to be a small alcove. The chair should look nice there.
Riley picked up the rocker by its arms and stepped carefully toward the attic stairs, watching where he stepped through the bars on the back of the chair. He stopped at the opening of the attic entryway, peering down to the second floor beneath. It was at least nine feet below him, given the height of the ceilings, and falling nine feet…
If he put his weight on his heels, he should be able to handle the chair by keeping his back to the steps, and manage to get down without incident. He tested the first riser, leaning back enough to counterweight the rocker to keep from falling face-first down the stairs. Taking it slowly, he made it down without any trouble and set the chair on the floor.
He brushed his hands together, wiping the dust from them, and checked out the chair in the light. Atop the spokes comprising the back of the chair was an intricately designed strip of wood with scrolling vines and leaves etched into it, curling this way and that. A complementary design adorned the outside face of the handles as well as the rockers along the bottom of the chair. It was made of a dark wood, possibly cherry from what Riley could tell. Using the tail of his t-shirt, Riley swiped over the arm of the chair to reveal the finish, still in decent condition despite its age.
He situated it in the back corner of the hallway next to the window where he had seen it in his mind's eye. He stood back and assessed the display, happy with the picture of tranquility the rocker provided with the sun streaking over it through the softly hanging white sheers covering the back window.
Riley went back to the attic and stood in front of the chest. A smooth black sheet of metal framed the entire trunk, the centers of each side and top decorated with embossing, which etched a metallic field of flowers and butterflies. Beautifully scored hardwood staves were positioned over the embossed metal, spaced out perfectly every few inches. Each stave was capped by yet another decorative piece of metal, providing a finished end for each strip.
He lifted one end of it to judge the weight. Much heavier than the rocker, but he could lift it by himself. Using the leather handle on the side, he slid it to the steps. He'd have to go backward this time, dragging the trunk down the attic stairs; there was no way he could carry it down like he had the chair. Confident it could be done, he stepped down and pulled it with him, bumping it down slowly and protectively, one riser at a time. Riley looked over his shoulder and saw the second floor getting closer. Almost there.
As he stepped onto the last step, Riley's feet seemed to come out from under him, his balance slipping away as he tumbled to the floor. It was as though he fell both in slow motion and fast, the floor rushing up to meet him while concurrently, time stood still. Time returned to normal as he slammed onto the newly laid carpet, and lost his breath with the impact. He lay quietly, disoriented from the fall, his mind confused by what had happened.
As his breathing returned to normal, he registered a sharp pain in his right ankle. Grimacing, he sat up and tentatively touched it, almost afraid to look under the sock protecting it from inspection. It had already begun to swell and Riley deflated, realizing in the aftermath that the fall could have been much worse. He could have been knocked out, or worse, the trunk could have fallen on him.
The trunk! He leaned up on his elbows and saw it lying on its side having fallen the opposite way from Riley. It didn't look like it had broken or anything, thank God. He decided to try to stand, using the toppled over trunk for balance. Whatever was inside was heavy enough to aid him, and he stood on his good foot before daring to try the one in pain. He gently lowered his right foot to the floor and promptly raised it again.
"Damn it," he cursed. God knew what he had done to it. It hurt like hell.
The phone. He needed to call Colin.
He crawled to the bedroom on his hands and knees after hopping along proved to take too much effort. The cordless loomed in the distance only a few feet away, but seemingly miles from him. Making progress toward it slowly, he lifted the phone from the cradle after pulling himself onto the bed.
"Hi, it's me," he said to Colin's mom.
Nancy replied, "Riley! How good to hear from you. We were just saying that we wished you had come with Colin. We just about…"
"I'm sorry, Nancy. I need to talk to Colin."
"Is everything ok?" she asked, alarm creeping into her voice.
"I'm ok, but I need Colin to take me to the doctor. I twisted my ankle or something and…"
"Colin!" she bellowed, not letting him finish his sentence. "Riley needs you."
There was little more than a pause before he heard his lover's voice on the other end of the line.
"Riley?" Colin asked, his own voice steady yet concerned. "What's wrong?"
"I fell, Colin, but I'm fine. I hurt my ankle."
"I'll be right there. Stay put," he ordered then disconnected the call.
Riley hung up the phone and threw his arm over his eyes, trying to block out the throbbing in his ankle.
Damn it! Colin was going to kill him, he was certain of it. He knew he shouldn't have tried to move the trunk by himself. He knew it! It seemed so easy at the time, though. Thinking through other options, the obvious glared at him in the aftermath when it didn't present itself earlier. He should have gotten his tools and forced the lock, emptied the trunk, and *then* tried to move it. Or he could have waited for Colin.
Colin. He was going to be pissed, or worse, he'd be unnervingly calm until he knew Riley would live. That was more likely what would happen. Regardless, he wished for him to come quickly. Even if he couldn't fix it, having his company and knowing he would be there for Riley was calming.
The minutes dragged on torturously but finally he heard the sound of the truck pulling up and stopping in front of the house. Thank God. Colin must have half-run to the house because in seconds, he heard Colin coming in the door and Riley immediately called out to him.
"Colin! I'm upstairs!"
Colin all but bolted up the staircase, noting the pull-down stairs and overturned trunk as he passed through the hallway to the bedroom. Almost afraid of what he might find, Colin entered their room, anxious in spite of Riley having tried to convince him he was ok on the phone.
"Riley? What happened, babe?" he asked, moving quickly to his partner's side.
"I fell and did something to my ankle. I found a trunk upstairs and thought I could get it down by myself. I know I shouldn't have, Colin, but I thought I could manage…"
"Is it just your ankle?" Colin asked, dismissing the ensuing explanation and probing the obviously swollen member.
"Ow! Yes," he said through clenched teeth. "I don't know if I broke it or what, but it hurts like hell."
"I guess it does," Colin assessed. "Let's get you to the emergency room."
"I don't think I need to go to the hospital, I just need…"
"We're going to the emergency room," Colin declared. "Can you stand at all?"
"If you help me, I can," Riley commented.
Colin helped him to sit on the edge of the bed, then put an arm around Riley's waist to pull him up. Riley put no more than a toe down to the floor with his right foot and hissed, quickly lifting it again, as pain shot up his leg.
"Keep your foot up," Colin ordered. "Don't try to put weight on it until we know what we have here."
"Ok," Riley agreed without hesitation. With the pain he just felt, he wasn't inclined to disagree.
He rested against Colin, adjusting his balance until he could hop along. They paused several times on the way to the car for Riley to rest, but finally made it after what seemed like a mile's distance. Colin buckled him in and made sure he was situated before he got behind the wheel and started the engine.
"We should probably have your foot propped up but that isn't going to happen in this truck," Colin commented. "Are you ok until we can get there?"
"I'm fine." Riley laid his head back and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry, Colin."
He wanted so badly to clear the air, but he didn't know where to begin aside from an apology.
"I know," Colin said. "You didn't fall on purpose."
"Are you mad?"
"I'm more concerned about you right now and getting you to the hospital so they can check out the damage."
Colin drove quickly but carefully, luckily catching only one light on the way to the hospital. With minimal traffic and the lights being cooperative, they made it there in about fifteen minutes that still felt like an hour to Riley. Colin pulled up to the door of the emergency entrance and left Riley in the truck while he went inside for a wheelchair.
He was back quickly and opened Riley's door. "I got lucky. I found this just inside the door in the lobby. I'm going to get you inside and move the truck while you fill out what forms you need to."
He locked the wheels on the chair and helped Riley get seated, then wheeled him inside, parking him in the waiting area.
"Here you go," Colin said, handing Riley a clipboard he got from the front desk. "The nurse said to fill this out. I'll move the truck while you do that. You going to be ok?"
"Yeah," Riley said, turning his attention to the form in front of him. "I won't be running off anywhere."
"Ok. I'll be right back."
Riley was nearly finished by the time Colin returned.
"Finished?"
"I'm on the last question," Riley said.
He scanned the many diseases and conditions noted and checked off the "no" box for each one having not had any of the ones listed.
Signing his name to the bottom, he asked, "What's today?"
"The twenty-fifth," Colin replied. "Finished now?"
"Yeah," Riley said, handing his partner the clipboard. "Thanks."
Colin returned the form then sat down next to Riley, carrying an ice pack that he got from the lady at the front desk. He settled the cold packet over the swelling and helped to get Riley's foot propped up by adjusting the footrest on the wheelchair.
"My shoe is too tight," Riley said.
"Can you move your toes?"
Riley tested them out and found that he could wiggle them at will. "Yeah."
Colin pulled Riley's tennis shoe off carefully and checked the swelling. "Your foot is a little swollen, too."
Riley sighed and reached for a magazine. He needed something to distract him from worrying about his ankle and what Colin would eventually say. Now that they had things as calmed down as they could be, Riley expected the subject wouldn't be long in coming.
"So. Want to tell me what happened?" Colin asked calmly, picking up a magazine himself.
Here it came. Riley had expected it wouldn't be long, and he was right. He answered, "I fell down the steps."
"I know that part," Colin said. "What were you doing up there?"
"Putting a box of stuff in the attic," Riley said. "I found a rocker up there and an old trunk."
"And you decided to try to move them by yourself rather than wait for help," he surmised, folding the magazine closed and turning his eyes toward his partner.
"I thought I could handle them, and I did," Riley said, then added dully, "until the last step."
Colin sighed and opened the magazine again, flipping to the front to review the contents.
"You're lucky it wasn't the first step. We'd be here to check out your broken neck instead."
Riley knew Colin wasn't going to be thrilled. His comments on the subject were proof positive.
"Colin, I don't know what happened. I know I had my foot on the step. I was taking my time, and every step I would make sure my foot was all the way on the riser before I'd put my weight on it and step down."
"The trunk must have thrown you off-balance. Was it heavy?"
"Yeah, it was heavy but I was pulling it. It wasn't too bad when I just had to lift one end."
"That's probably what happened then. Maybe something inside shifted."
"No, I don't think so," Riley said sincerely. "It was like the step was there then disappeared or something. One minute it was fine, the next I was falling. I thought maybe the step had broken or something like that."
"I didn't check it closely but I don't remember seeing it broken when I passed by."
"No, I looked at it after I got my breath back. I hope the trunk wasn't damaged. I couldn't see anything broken."
"It looked to be in one piece but I was worried about you at the time, not checking on the trunk," Colin said. "You gave me a heart attack."
Riley looked at his hands and rolled the corner of one of the magazine pages between his thumb and forefinger. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to scare you, but I couldn't get to a doctor by myself."
"I'd be more than scared if you had done that on your own," Colin said levelly. "It's bad enough you took a risk that got you hurt."
His tone was formidable, and Riley heard what wasn't spoken as loudly as if Colin uttered the words from a bullhorn. Riley was in for it, no doubt about it.
"I wasn't taking a risk," Riley countered.
"We'll talk about that when we get home," Colin said. "This isn't the place."
Not exactly a welcoming thought. Now that they had been together for five years, Riley didn't get in trouble all that often, but when he did, he seemed to make up for lost time. Risk-taking wasn't something Colin thought highly of.
Four hours, a few x-rays and an exam later, Colin pulled up in front of their house.
"Let's get you inside," he said. "We need to eat and then have a talk."
Riley tried to ignore the twisting in his stomach as he positioned himself between his new crutches with Colin's help. Colin waited on him, patiently slowing his stride to match Riley's as he progressed toward the house. Getting back inside wasn't nearly the challenge getting out had been, now that he had crutches.
Colin got Riley settled on the sofa, and propped several pillows beneath his foot to keep it elevated like they had been told.
"How's that?" he asked, replacing the ice pack over the Ace bandage wound tightly in place.
"Ok," Riley said.
"Want some hamburgers? You've got to be hungry. We missed lunch and it's about time for dinner."
"Yeah, that sounds good."
"I'll work on dinner. Call me if you need me," Colin said. He stood from his seat on the edge of the sofa, and stroked the top of Riley's head before kissing him there.
The sound of Colin's footsteps grew fainter as the distance between Riley and him grew greater. Riley looked at his propped up foot and rolled his eyes. So stupid! He had not only wasted the day, but now he was laid up with a sprain, which while slight, was enough to keep him off his feet for about a week from the doctor's best guess. But as Colin pointed out, it could have been far worse. A fracture would have kept him off it for six weeks or more, during which time, he'd be no help to Colin in their work.
He lay back against the cushions propped behind his back and he stared at the ceiling. His carelessness was going to cause Colin extra work, and quite possibly, cause them to lose money. Colin could only do so much on his own. The longer it took them to finish a project, the longer it took to get the money flowing in.
"You want something to drink?" Colin called from the kitchen.
And more work for Colin at home, he realized with Colin's question. Ignoring his thirst, he replied, "No, thanks. I'm fine."
He reached for the remote and switched on the TV, finding nothing to watch despite having 150-plus channels at his disposal.
"Riley."
"That was fast –," Riley started as he turned toward the summons, but Colin wasn't there. Riley frowned in confusion, searching the empty room with a quick sweep of his eyes. What the hell?
"Colin!" Riley shouted.
The swinging door to the kitchen opened almost immediately and Colin stood in the doorway.
"What?"
"Did you call me?"
"No. You called me," Colin said. "Do you need something?"
"I heard my name," Riley said.
"Wasn't me," Colin said.
"I didn't hallucinate it," Riley said, assuredly. "I heard it as well as I'm hearing you now. It was right behind me."
"I didn't call you, babe. You've had a hard day. Settle back and rest while I finish up in here."
"But Colin--," Riley started.
"Rest," Colin ordered, cutting him off with a finger pointed his direction for emphasis.
The door swung closed, shutting off further conversation, and leaving Riley alone. Riley looked around the room, seeing nothing. He knew he had heard his name, he knew it! Could he have drifted off and dreamed it? The pain meds were making him sleepy, coupled with the excitement of the day. Maybe that was it.
He pointed the remote at the television again, this time muting the volume rather than surfing the channels. The clock on the mantel ticked loudly, almost echoing in the high-ceilinged room. Riley's ears were keen to his surroundings: a car drove down the street slowly, obeying the 35 mile per hour speed limit, a dog barked in the distance. He could even hear Colin moving about while he worked in the kitchen, but there was no voice calling his name.
Maybe he did dream it. As his suspicions began to fade, he un-muted the sound on the TV, realizing as he did so that it must have been something on the television that just sounded like his name. Maybe the acoustics in the room made it seem like what he heard was right behi—
"Riii-ley," a man's voice whispered at his ear.
Riley jumped away from the sound and the hairs on his arms and back of his neck stood tall as goosebumps spread over his skin.
"Jesus Christ," he muttered to himself, once again scanning the room. "Who's there?" he demanded. "Where are you?!"
Colin reappeared at the kitchen door. "What's wrong now?"
"I heard it again! Colin, I swear, I heard my name."
"Riley, I was in the kitchen. No one else is here," Colin explained rationally. "You must have heard something on TV."
"No!" Riley exclaimed, oblivious to his ankle as he sat up, swinging his feet to the floor and toppling the ice bag.
"Lay back down," Colin said coming over. "It's been a rough day."
"No, Colin, I'm telling you I heard something," Riley said anxiously. "Someone is in this house besides us."
"No one is here."
"Well, someone called me – twice! If it wasn't you and it wasn't me then…" Riley let the sentence hang unfinished.
Colin studied Riley with a worried expression. "Do you want me to check out the house? Make sure no one's here?"
"Don't patronize me." Riley lay back and closed his eyes. "I know what I heard, Colin."
"I'm not patronizing you," Colin said, sitting beside him on the tiny space between the edge and Riley's body. "I'm sure you heard something, but I don't think anyone's in here. If searching the house will make you feel better, I'll do it."
"But what if it is someone? You could be hurt!"
"I'll be fine. What else did you hear? Footsteps? Breathing? Anything other than your name?"
Riley looked up at Colin and confirmed, "No. Nothing."
"All right. I'll go check it out."
It was bad enough that Colin was having to wait on him, but Riley especially didn't want him going through unnecessary motions to satisfy Riley's "hallucinations". Not only that, he didn't want to think about what Colin might find.
"No," Riley said quietly. "Forget it."
"Sure?"
"Yeah."
"Ok, give me five more minutes and I'll have dinner ready. I'll be back in a minute."
Five minutes, Riley corrected in his head. He cranked the volume on the TV as soon as Colin left the room, determined not to hear anything that wasn't from the set. Worried now over what voice knew his name, he could care less about the impending conversation regarding moving trunks without help.
He wanted Colin beside him. Now.
TBC
