pot?" Ryan asked. "No, you're not fucking crashing in the damned break room. Fuck, Mack."
Walking beside her, one arm gently around her shoulders, he steered her toward the back, but away from the door outside. To the left was a solid metal, white door. She'd always thought it was just another closet, but when he opened it, she saw a set of stairs.
"Tell me stairs aren't going to be too much?" he asked.
"I'm good," she promised.
With a nod, he led her up. At the top was a huge loft. The stairs turned to make a second flight to yet another level above. Wood floors stretched as far as the eye could see, and old brick lined the walls. The space was huge, covering as much area as the shop below. In the back, a pair of large, sliding doors stood open, a massive bed just beyond it. Every place big enough held a painting. She saw landscapes and fantastical animals hanging beside portraits and roughly sketched nudes. It was like an artist's paradise.
"I didn't know this was up here," she breathed, looking around.
"Yeah, it's my place. C'mon, you need to lay down."
She let him guide her along, feeling too weak - both in mind and body - to complain. "You live over the shop?"
"Makes rent cheaper. There's a third floor, too, but it's empty." He guided her to his bed, gently holding her shoulders, and convinced her to sit. "How are you feeling?"
"Like shit," she finally admitted. "I feel like I'm trying to think through mud, and if I blink too long, I'll pass out."
"It's the chemo. Hits you like that. Take off your shoes, I'll grab you something to drink."
"No," she said. "It won't stay down, Ryan."
"Mack, just fucking have some faith?" He turned and walked back into the massive main room.
Unable to think of anything else, she obeyed and pulled off her shoes. Setting them beside the bed, she propped her elbows on her knees and shoved her face in her hands. She knew she should be freaking out, but she just didn't have the energy to do it. When Ryan returned, he had a glass of red fluid in his hands. He sat beside her and gently put on arm around her shoulders as he passed her the glass.
"It's just kool-aid, but you should be able to get it down."
"What?" she asked.
"Drink it," he said, his tone saying that he wouldn't accept anything else.
So Mack drank it. It didn't taste right, but it didn't taste horrible either. She made it half way through the glass before taking a break, but the look on his face told her that wouldn't be enough. When there was only a swirl left in the bottom, he gently took the glass from her and stood. Setting it beside the bed, he yanked at one corner, and gestured.
"Under the covers, Mack. You're still on the clock, so I get to tell you what to do."
She smiled and pulled herself closer to the pillows, flopping on her side. As soon as her head was down, her eyes just wanted to close. She felt like she was a small child, able to sleep through anything, even the rolling feeling in her stomach.
Ryan grabbed her legs and lifted them enough to get the last of the covers out from under her, then gently lay them across her body. Mack's eyes refused to open for more than a second, but she could feel that he moved to sit at her hip.
"Just sleep for a bit, Mack. I'll be here if you need anything. There's a trash can beside the bed, ok?"
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
He just rubbed her shoulder gently. That was the last thing she remembered. When she opened her eyes again, she heard voices in the other room, but her stomach was her main concern. She took a long slow breath, convincing herself that she would not puke. She would be fine, and she would not puke anymore.
"I locked up the shop," she heard Colby saying.
"Thanks, man." That was Ryan's voice. "She started chemo today."
"Ah, fuck. Same shit your mom had?"
"No," Ryan said. "She's got no one though, Colby. It's just us."
"How the fuck?" Colby sounded
Walking beside her, one arm gently around her shoulders, he steered her toward the back, but away from the door outside. To the left was a solid metal, white door. She'd always thought it was just another closet, but when he opened it, she saw a set of stairs.
"Tell me stairs aren't going to be too much?" he asked.
"I'm good," she promised.
With a nod, he led her up. At the top was a huge loft. The stairs turned to make a second flight to yet another level above. Wood floors stretched as far as the eye could see, and old brick lined the walls. The space was huge, covering as much area as the shop below. In the back, a pair of large, sliding doors stood open, a massive bed just beyond it. Every place big enough held a painting. She saw landscapes and fantastical animals hanging beside portraits and roughly sketched nudes. It was like an artist's paradise.
"I didn't know this was up here," she breathed, looking around.
"Yeah, it's my place. C'mon, you need to lay down."
She let him guide her along, feeling too weak - both in mind and body - to complain. "You live over the shop?"
"Makes rent cheaper. There's a third floor, too, but it's empty." He guided her to his bed, gently holding her shoulders, and convinced her to sit. "How are you feeling?"
"Like shit," she finally admitted. "I feel like I'm trying to think through mud, and if I blink too long, I'll pass out."
"It's the chemo. Hits you like that. Take off your shoes, I'll grab you something to drink."
"No," she said. "It won't stay down, Ryan."
"Mack, just fucking have some faith?" He turned and walked back into the massive main room.
Unable to think of anything else, she obeyed and pulled off her shoes. Setting them beside the bed, she propped her elbows on her knees and shoved her face in her hands. She knew she should be freaking out, but she just didn't have the energy to do it. When Ryan returned, he had a glass of red fluid in his hands. He sat beside her and gently put on arm around her shoulders as he passed her the glass.
"It's just kool-aid, but you should be able to get it down."
"What?" she asked.
"Drink it," he said, his tone saying that he wouldn't accept anything else.
So Mack drank it. It didn't taste right, but it didn't taste horrible either. She made it half way through the glass before taking a break, but the look on his face told her that wouldn't be enough. When there was only a swirl left in the bottom, he gently took the glass from her and stood. Setting it beside the bed, he yanked at one corner, and gestured.
"Under the covers, Mack. You're still on the clock, so I get to tell you what to do."
She smiled and pulled herself closer to the pillows, flopping on her side. As soon as her head was down, her eyes just wanted to close. She felt like she was a small child, able to sleep through anything, even the rolling feeling in her stomach.
Ryan grabbed her legs and lifted them enough to get the last of the covers out from under her, then gently lay them across her body. Mack's eyes refused to open for more than a second, but she could feel that he moved to sit at her hip.
"Just sleep for a bit, Mack. I'll be here if you need anything. There's a trash can beside the bed, ok?"
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
He just rubbed her shoulder gently. That was the last thing she remembered. When she opened her eyes again, she heard voices in the other room, but her stomach was her main concern. She took a long slow breath, convincing herself that she would not puke. She would be fine, and she would not puke anymore.
"I locked up the shop," she heard Colby saying.
"Thanks, man." That was Ryan's voice. "She started chemo today."
"Ah, fuck. Same shit your mom had?"
"No," Ryan said. "She's got no one though, Colby. It's just us."
"How the fuck?" Colby sounded
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