Wood: A True Lover's Story

He thought he saw a reaction, a flicker in Wood’s expression. “I know you can hear me. Come back, Wood. You’re stronger than this. You’re way fuckin’ stronger than me, and I made it through… you can too.” Trent got closer, his lips only inches from Wood’s. “But you gotta look at me. Look at me, Wood. Damnit. You gotta see what’s right in front of you, man.”

Trent continued to talk until Wood dozed off. It was almost four o’clock, and he was so tired he could barely think straight. He picked up his phone to check his messages and saw Bishop had texted fifteen minutes ago to say he was on his way over. “Fuck.” Trent hurried to call him back.

“Dude!” Bishop barked. “I’ve been calling all day. What do you mean Wood has the flu? How?”

Trent pressed his thumb and middle finger into his temples. He really didn’t want to lie to Bishop, but he’d do it this once for Wood. “Calm down, B. When I got home last night, he wasn’t feeling good. I told him to go to bed, and he’s been there ever since.”

“I’m on my way. I’ll use the key under the mat.”

“No!” Trent yelled.

“Why not?” Trent could hear the confusion in Bishop’s voice and the suspicion.

“Because I’m already here. I’m making sure he’s good,” Trent said, trying to keep the nervousness out of his voice.

“You didn’t go in today? I called you during lunch, and when you still wouldn’t pick up, I called Summer and she said she’d sent you to get supplies.”

Trent slapped his palm to his forehead. He and Summer should’ve gotten their lies straight. “She probably misspoke. It’s all good.”

“So, Wood didn’t go to work either?”

“No. He’s sick, Bishop.”

“Well, I know that’s not your responsibility, and Wood doesn’t have anyone else he can call. So, I’ll bring some soup and some medicine with—”

“No, Bishop! I got that already. You know I keep Theraflu in the cabinet at all times. Trust me. I was just heating him up some chicken noodle right now.” Trent tried to think. “Besides, didn’t you say you and Edison didn’t get flu shots? Well, I did, so it’s probably safest for just me to be here. I know you don’t want to end up sick and have to miss classes.” Bishop was silent so long Trent had to check his screen to see if they were still connected. “B?”

“I’m here. I’m just surprised that you’re so eager to take care of him. Are you two getting along that good now?”

“Sure,” Trent mumbled. “Why? Did he say something different?”

“A little.” Bishop sounded as if he was smiling. “Wood’s not much of a sharer, but he’s had some colorful things to say about you this past week.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Trent said, recalling how much Wood enjoyed teasing him.

“Oh, they’re funny, trust me. But there is one thing he said that had me thinking, Trent.”

Bishop had finally gone back to school to learn how to read, but he’d mastered how to read through a person’s words long ago. Trent didn’t mean to sound too excited when he blurted, “What is it?”

Bishop’s deep voice was softer, his tone contemplative. “He said you made him want to try again. But he didn’t say what specifically.”

Trent thought about those words as he slowly lowered the phone. Then why the hell are you giving up?

Chapter Twenty-Six

Wood

Wood felt as if he’d opened his eyes, but he could still see nothing but darkness. He didn’t know if it was night or day; he had no recollection of time. His body was suddenly jostled, and then the scent of summer rain and earth filled his nostrils and his body seemed to want to gravitate toward it.

“I just went to shower and change, Wood. Now, I’m back. You opened your eyes again… how was your nap? What’d you dream about?”

Wood’s mind felt as if it was attempting to reach out to that soft echo against his left side. It sounded like a symphony played only with the smoothest instruments. Was that his good angel? It had to be, because in the other ear he distinctively heard a voice telling him to stay and hide. That the world was a screwed-up maze that he was going to get lost in.

His devil was stronger.

“I made you some chicken noodle soup. It’s the last can, so you gotta swallow it.”

That voice was getting clearer, smoother. Closer.

“Just a little, all right. A few spoons.”

No.

Trent

Trent had grunted, strained, and almost hollered out in agony as he propped Wood’s heavy upper body against some pillows so he could feed him the soup. Damn, his back was fucked. But he ignored the burn and kept his concentration on Wood. Trent knew he was running out of time. If Wood didn’t start to respond soon, then he was going to have to make the call. He was already terrified that he was delaying too long.