Reverb by J. Cafesin

get him on the right medications to balance him out.”
    “Or zombify him.”
    “Don’t be so melodramatic.”
    “I’m not. Thorazine, Lithium, all that crap does is numb your brain.”
    “James is ill, Martin. He’s distraught, maybe delusional. He just admitted to being hospitalized, probably for attempting suicide. Do you have any idea what the stats are for a long life with people who seriously attempt suicide? Of course you don’t. You write show tunes for a living.”
    Martin looks at Kate standing near the butcher block island, flashes her a small, apologetic grin, then turns back to John. “He’ll never agree to it.”
    “I don’t care.” John snaps back.
    “You lock James up and you may be hurting him more than helping him. You ready to shoulder that, John.”
    John glares at him. “ Damn you, Martin . We let him walk out of here now and it’s like letting a drunk get behind the wheel.” He stays fixed on Martin another second then turns away in frustration.
    “Let me talk to him, John. Find out what is going on before you do anything.” Martin waits for John's response but gets none. “I'm going to talk to him,” he says definitively as he passes John, and stops in front of Kate. “You okay, honey?”
    She nods. She doesn't look okay. Her freckled face is ashen. She hugs herself with bare arms, the thin spaghetti straps of her camisole hang on her bare shoulders.
    “Well, come in. Sit down,” and he indicates the kitchen table tucked into the glass breakfast nook. “John will get you your promised cup of coffee. I'll be back in a jiff. Hopefully with a reality check.” Martin flashes John a quick glance. John scowls back at him as Martin leaves him in the kitchen with Kate.
     
     
     

Chapter Three
     
    Thunder rumbles close by as Martin walks down the hallway. He’s blinded by lightning through the bay windows as he enters the guestroom. Thunder cracks an instant later. Storm cell is passing overhead. Lightning strikes again and this time lights up James standing five feet from him, in front of the bay windows looking out. He glows for an instant, translucent, like a ghost. After-image of him standing there, shirt hanging open, practically bare to the waistband of his low slung jeans remains when Martin blinks.
    “You okay?” Martin feels anxious seeing him standing after John repeatedly said he should not.
    “Yeah. Sorry about earlier.” James holds his ribs and stands slightly hunched as he stares outside. “This is wild. The air is electric.” His voice is soft, filled with wonder. “Feel that?”
    Fine hairs on Martin’s skin feel like they’re standing up. “Yeah.” Thunder cracks and crackles so loud it shakes the windows. “Cool.” He flips on the Tiffany lamp on the small Mission table between them. “So, how do you feel?”
    “Like shit.” He whispers then shoots Martin a quick grin. “I’m okay.”
    “Really. You look like hell, well, for you .”
    James laughs. “Thanks, Martin.” He squints at the light then looks back outside.
    “Want to tell me what’s going on, James?”
    “Not really.”
    He watches James stare out the windows and feels uncertain how to proceed, then decides on the direct approach. “Is it true you were busted for speed at Heathrow on your way home from Ian’s funeral?”
    Lightning crackles horizontally over the valley, spreads like a million tiny fingers.
    “Wow! See that?” James whispers in amazement, just like a kid.
    “Yeah.” Thunder booms. “Is the rumor true, James?”
    He half-laughs, shakes his head. “Is that what you heard? That’s what everyone thinks?”
    Window resonates with the wind as it howls through the split redwood frame.
    “D-major. Hear it?” James grins at Martin, then it’s gone and he looks back out. He seems a million miles away, and for a moment Martin sees the old James, lost in his head.
    Martin stares at him. Ace bandage wraps his ribs to his waist, accentuating the muscles of his chest