And a Little Bit of Nausea
“Keep his head from knocking into stuff.” Daniel glanced back as he spoke.
“Got it,” Jeremiah answered. He held Hosea’s head still with one hand. Careful not to touch any of the vomit, he held Hosea’s body still with the other hand.
The car rumbled under Jeremiah. As Daniel sped around one curve then another, Jeremiah rocked back and forth. The rabid junkie from the house had not even left the doorway as they sped off. Jeremiah thought he saw him open his mouth to yell something, but that was all. And Jeremiah was glad he did not have to fight any monsters today.
Jeremiah looked down at Hosea. His oldest brother’s mouth hung open. Jeremiah grimaced as he smelled the rancid breath that came out, and he stifled a gag as he caught sight of the vomit covering his oldest brother’s chest. “Damn it,” he muttered to himself. He hated vomit, and he knew if he got to the end of this car ride without vomiting himself, he would be lucky.
“Do you really think he is going to be alright?” Jeremiah called up to Daniel.
The car careened to the right and Jeremiah swayed to the left before Daniel answered. “He’ll be alright,” Daniel said. Then the car careened left and Jeremiah swayed to the right. “Like I said,” Daniel continued, “this isn’t the first time. And, honestly, I’ve dealt with worse.”
“He looked really bad,” Jeremiah replied.
Daniel glanced back again. He stole a quick look at Hosea.
“Hosea’s tough,” Daniel said, but to Jeremiah, it did not sound like he believed his own words. “He was in the Pacific. Been through things that neither of us could imagine. Something as stupid as drugs isn’t going to kill him.”
Jeremiah did not comment on the lack of confidence with which Daniel spoke the words. He hoped they were true, but as he looked down at Hosea, his oldest brother looked more than ready to quit. He looked more than ready to evaporate completely. Daniel had said he was alright, but Jeremiah thought it better to believe what he heard between Daniel’s words rather than the words themselves.
“I sure as Hell hope you’re right, Daniel,” he thought to himself. Jeremiah glanced up at Daniel. His brother’s eyes were serious and focused on the road now. His lips were tight. His eyebrows furrowed. His hand gripped the steering wheel until white, and the muscles on his face bulged out as he clenched his teeth together. “But it doesn’t look like you believe what you are saying either.” Jeremiah shook his head. He saw the humor in the situation, the irony, but he did not laugh or even smile, “which means that Hosea is probably going to die.”
Jeremiah continued to study Daniel’s face. Though his older brother had just lied to him, Jeremiah felt no animosity toward him. If he was in Daniel’s situation, he assumed he would do the same. He would lie to keep his younger brother from getting emotional. He would try to keep everyone calm. He would try not to waste time, and a lie was quick. A lie was simple, and a lie would keep everyone from becoming hysterical. A lie would keep everyone on task. If Hosea survived, it might have been due to not wasting time and keeping everyone in the situation calm. If Hosea died, Jeremiah knew it was unlikely they would have been able to do anything to prevent his death anyway.
Jeremiah nodded, a small nod. He knew Daniel had not seen it, but it was to show agreement with his older brother’s choices.
And then he looked down, and he jerked back and almost pushed Hosea off the back seat.
“Aw, damn, man,” Hosea yelled. “What the Hell are you pushing me for?”
Hosea’s eyes reminded Jeremiah of the junkie at the house. They were wide. His pupils were huge, and he stared just past Jeremiah as if he were a blind man.
Hosea swore. “Did you shut the door?” he asked.
“Um, what?” Jeremiah answered him. Each of his words was a slow question.
“The door,” Hosea answered angrily. “The door, the goddamn door. Didn’t you hear me before? What? Are you deaf? Did you close the goddamn door?” Hosea said the last sentence slowly as if he thought he were speaking to an idiot. “For Christ’s sake, close the door,” Hosea continued. “Close it. Damn it. Close it.”
“Hosea,” Jeremiah answered. “It’s Jeremiah. Do you see me?”
Hosea’s eyebrows knit together though his eyes stayed as wide as before. And his eyes shifted to look at Jeremiah’s face, though it still did not look as if they saw Jeremiah.
“Jeremiah?” he asked.
Jeremiah nodded back to him.
Hosea chuckled before answering. “You think I don’t goddamn know what my goddamn brother looks like?” Hosea laughed. “I’ll beat your ass,” he breathed. “Beat your goddamn ass.” His eyes moved from Jeremiah’s face back to the ceiling.
“Liars. Goddamn bastard liars,” he mumbled.
“Hosea,” Daniel called from the front of the car, “Hosea,” he said again.
“Yeah,” Hosea answered. The anger had only subsided in his voice slightly.
“How are you doing?” Daniel asked. His voice was amiable.
Hosea’s head flopped back and forth. “Go to goddamn Hell, Daniel,” he answered.
Daniel laughed. “Good to see you as well,” Daniel said.
“Did I say I was glad to see—” Hosea yelled back.
“We’re getting you clean,” Daniel answered before Hosea could finish his sentence.
Hosea let out a long, low groan. “I am clean,” he seemed to yell to the heavens. “Altar-boy clean, freshly fallen snow clean, baby’s goddamn bottom clean.”
Daniel laughed again. “Jeremiah,” he said.
“Um, yeah, Daniel.” Jeremiah did not know how to reply. He was not sure what to do in this situation.
“This is a good sign,” Daniel answered.
“Yelling at us?” Jeremiah asked.
“A good sign, huh,” Hosea interrupted. His voice dripped with sarcasm. “Go to Hell. Both of you. All of you,” Hosea yelled.
Daniel chuckled again. “It is a good sign, Jeremiah, definitely is.” Daniel continued to smile. And Jeremiah could see that Daniel’s hands loosened on the wheel. His jaw unclenched. His face softened. As Jeremiah noticed the relief in Daniel, Jeremiah felt relief sweep through himself as well.
Jeremiah sighed. He looked down at Hosea. Hosea looked up at the ceiling with his still unseeing eyes. “Whoever the hell you are,” Hosea barked, “you can go to Hell too.” Hosea growled toward him. “And your mother,” he added as if he had meant to speak the words before but forgotten.
Daniel continued to laugh. “Hosea, Hosea,” Daniel called back again. “That’s Jeremiah.”
Hosea’s eyes shifted again, but they did not look at Jeremiah. “Liar. Liar, liar, liar. You were always a liar, weren’t you, Dan?” Hosea yelled to the front of the car.
Daniel shook his head, but the smile still had not left his face. “Jeremiah,” he said. “Don’t forget to be careful with his head. He might thrash about. He’s still high, if you can’t tell, and what I’ve learned about junkies is that anything can happen. Daniel caught Jeremiah’s eyes in the rearview mirror to make sure he had heard, and Jeremiah nodded back.
“Daniel brings a troll to ‘get me clean,’” Hosea muttered to himself.
“He sure likes to swear,” Jeremiah called to Daniel. “I don’t ever remember him swearing so much.”
“Oh,” Daniel brought a hand up and waved away the comment. “It’s a war thing.” Daniel paused. He focused on driving before continuing. “The language comes out when he’s doped up. You should have seen him when they had him on morphine just after the war. Was never this bad, though.” Daniel laughed again.
Jeremiah did not laugh. Frankly, he did not care what words Hosea used. Jeremiah was glad his oldest brother was talking. As Daniel had said, Hosea talking was a good sign. He would be okay. He was not convulsing. He was not foaming at the mouth or choking. He was high. Jeremiah had not known what a Hosea high would look like, but he had expected him to be high. Jeremiah knew what they were going to do. They would take him to the hospital. They would help him sober up. He would fight them a little, but Jeremiah would get that older brother back he remembered.
And for some reason, Jeremiah thought if he got that old Hosea back, their father would be fine. Jeremiah felt that when Hosea was back, everything would start to fall into place. Everything would go back to normal, and their father would get better.
“Aw, damn,” Hosea muttered. “Aw, goddamn, goddamn, damn.”
Jeremiah looked down at his brother. The indignation in his face was gone. That indignation was replaced by a look of pain. “Shit, shit,” Hosea muttered.
“What’s wrong?” Jeremiah asked.
Hosea grimaced. He looked pale. Green. He looked like a piece of rotten fruit.
“Hosea, what’s wrong?” Jeremiah asked again.
“Screw off, liar,” Hosea answered. He was breathing hard, and the words came out slowly and full of pain-filled effort. Even after he said the words, his face was filled with pain.
“Hosea,” Daniel called back.
Hosea turned his face toward the backseat and Jeremiah’s stomach.
“Hosea,” Jeremiah squeezed his oldest brother’s shoulder as he asked again.
Hosea did not respond. The same pain was frozen on his face. He bought a hand up to his stomach. Jeremiah felt his head grow hot. He felt sweat began to soak through his brother’s clothes and drip onto his own skin, and, as he opened his mouth, Jeremiah saw thick saliva drip from Hosea’s lips. A harsh sound caught in Hosea’s throat, a gag. That gag filled the car like a yell, and it was followed by another gag just as loud.
As Hosea gagged just as loudly a third time, Jeremiah prayed he would not puke. He braced himself and prayed. He prayed that anything would happen besides Hosea puking. As Jeremiah stifled a gag of his own, he prayed for anything but vomit. Anything.
Jeremiah did not hear the fourth gag. Jeremiah heard a splash instead. He felt something hot and wet pouring on his chest. He felt warm spray hit his face. The sour smell of vomit filled his nose. He tasted it in his mouth. His head swam. His stomach leapt. He tried to hold back his own gag, but he could not. All the blood rushed to his face. Sweat showered from his forehead. He tasted the bitter, chunky vomit in his mouth. He saw the ugly brown liquid as it flew out. He watched as it showered the passenger seat of the vehicle, and he felt the last little bit of stomach bile and saliva dripped from his mouth and mix with the blood on his chin.
Jeremiah watched as Daniel wiped a droplet of vomit from his face. He watched as Daniel glanced back. He heard his brother swear. He could hear the anger and frustration in Daniel’s voice, but though Jeremiah did expect to hear a roar from Daniel any moment, Daniel turned back to the windshield and continued to drive in silence.
“Daniel,” Jeremiah looked at the vomit-covered seat. He suppressed another gag as he tasted the vomit in his mouth and in the back of his throat. He tried not to glance down at Hosea or think about how the wetness on his own chest was vomit. If he thought about it, he knew he would vomit again. He could not help it. It was inevitable that the nausea would overpower him.
“Just make sure Hosea is okay,” Daniel’s eyes returned to the road. A hand waved as if to say the vomit-covered seat was not a big deal, but Jeremiah could hear the frustration and anger in Daniel’s voice. Daniel wanted to yell at him. Jeremiah was sure Daniel wanted to yell at him, and he silently thanked Daniel when he did not.
Jeremiah closed his eyes. He needed to regain his composure. He needed to control his stomach. He needed to let it settle. If he could not, he would not be able to check Hosea. Hosea was their primary concern. “Come on, Jeremiah,” he thought to himself. He swallowed. He felt a twist in his stomach, but he opened his eyes.
“Shit,” he muttered as his stomach twisted more. He looked from the seat-back and then slowly toward Hosea. “Shit,” he muttered to again when he saw his oldest brother’s face covered in vomit.
“Is he okay?” Daniel asked.
Jeremiah held his breath and brought an ear toward Hosea’s mouth.
“He’s still breathing,” Jeremiah called up to his brother.
Daniel nodded. “Okay, good. Now, you are going to make sure no vomit is in his mouth so he doesn’t choke on it.”
Jeremiah looked up toward his brother. Daniel caught his eye in the rearview mirror. “I am completely serious,” Daniel said. “You need to do it.”
Jeremiah pursed his lips. That old nausea began to sweep through him again, so he closed his eyes and focused on keeping himself from vomiting. When the nausea had once more subsided, Jeremiah opened his eyes once again. He looked down at Hosea. Vomit filled Jeremiah’s mouth. Though he could barely keep it contained, he did not let it out. Instead, Jeremiah grimaced, gritted his teeth, and swallowed the vomit back down. A curse went through his mind as he did. Another curse went through Jeremiah’s mind as he reached a hand toward Hosea. A final curse crossed his mind as he wiped the thick vomit from his brother’s face, as he pried the mouth with two fingers, and as he pulled the chunks out of his brother’s mouth.
“Okay.” More vomit flooded Jeremiah’s mouth, and he immediately swallowed it back down and grimaced again. “Daniel, he’s not going to choke on his own vomit now,” he said.
Daniel nodded. “That’s good. We’ve got a little ways to go. Just make sure his head doesn’t smash against anything.”
Jeremiah nodded back to his brother, and he looked down at Hosea. Hosea still had vomit framing his face. Jeremiah wondered if he should clean it off, but despite a desire to restore some of his oldest brother’s dignity, he did not want to risk vomiting again.
Before Jeremiah had finished the thought, Hosea began to shake, a slight tremor that moved from his head, through his neck, and into his body. This small tremor continued for a few seconds, and after that few seconds, Hosea’s arms and legs began to flail. His head began to thrash back and forth, and despite how hard Jeremiah tried to keep it still, he could not.
“Daniel,” Jeremiah called to his brother in the front seat. Jeremiah looked down at Hosea. Jeremiah swore loudly and looked back up to the front and toward Daniel. “Daniel,” he called again.
Daniel turned a corner and glanced back. A loud profanity left his mouth when he saw Hosea flailing, and Daniel turned back toward the roar of traffic before him with tension filling his body. Another loud profanity left his mouth, and he hit the steering wheel with two heavy hands.
“Goddamnit, Hosea. Goddamnit. You idiot and your stupid, stupid heroin. You complete moron. Why the Hell?”
Daniel hit the steering wheel again, harder than before.
***
“Faster, faster,” Daniel yelled at Jeremiah. Jeremiah winced as Daniel shouted, and he tried to stop Hosea from slipping from his hands.
“Don’t we need to go to the hospital?” Jeremiah yelled back to Daniel. Jeremiah had not asked Daniel whether they were going to the hospital in the car, but he had not expected to go anywhere else. The hospital was the only place that made sense. They would get to the hospital. The doctors would make sure Hosea was monitored. They would monitor him to make sure he would not die. They would help him get through the withdrawal process, and when Hosea was clean, then they would release him. And he would help Daniel and Jeremiah find the man who shot their father.
Jeremiah thought the logic of this course of action was self-evident, but they were not at the hospital. Instead of the hospital, Daniel had driven them to his office. He had jumped out of the car, pulled open the back seat, and pulled Hosea and Jeremiah into the now pouring rain.
“Why not the hospital?” Jeremiah thought as he brought a hand up to his face and wiped the rain out of his eyes.
“Just get him into the office,” Daniel seemed to yell back to those thoughts.
Jeremiah winced again and regained his grip on Hosea. He did not ask the question again. This had been the third time Jeremiah had asked about the hospital since they arrived at Daniel’s office. Daniel only barked at him in the same way he had before.
Jeremiah shook his head this final time, and he and Daniel carried the unconscious and convulsing Hosea from the pouring rain, through the dark hallways, and into Daniel’s small office. They put Hosea on the small couch. Daniel barked at Jeremiah to watch their oldest brother. “Make sure he is breathing,” he said and strode across the room. As Jeremiah kept his attention on the still writhing Hosea, Daniel picked up his phone. He dialed quickly, a number he must have known well. “Daniel Fleet,” he said. He paused. He rattled off a string of numbers. He rattled off something about a check. This was followed by another string of numbers, and at this point Jeremiah stopped paying attention. His attention turned to Hosea. Why had they not gone to the hospital? It was clear to Jeremiah that if they did not take him to the hospital soon, he would die. And Jeremiah did not want his brother to die.
“The hospital,” he thought. “Why are we not taking him to the hospital? Why did Daniel yell at me? Why would he yell at me for bringing it up?”
Jeremiah turned his attention back to Daniel. The last thing he heard from Daniel was a “Thank you,” followed by a loud clacking as he dropped the phone back onto the receiver.
Daniel then flopped into his chair, swore, and sighed.
***
Hosea did not stop convulsing after fifteen minutes. He did not stop convulsing after thirty. It was over forty-five minutes when Hosea stopped convulsing, and every five minutes, Daniel would ask the same question: “Is he breathing?” And every five minutes, Jeremiah would lean down toward Hosea’s face. He would be careful to not get hit by the writhing body, and he would glance back at Daniel and respond with: “He’s still breathing.” This process continued for hours after Hosea stopped convulsing. Daniel lounged in his chair behind his desk. Hosea seemed to lay dead on the small couch. Jeremiah sat on the floor. “Is he breathing?” followed by “He’s still breathing,” followed by a nod from Daniel, followed by a weaker nod from Jeremiah. The rain pattered outside. Daniel looked at the ceiling. Daniel asked if Hosea was breathing. Daniel smoked. Daniel stared out the window and muttered to himself. And Jeremiah sat on the floor, checked to make sure Hosea was breathing whenever Daniel asked, and wondered countless times why they were here in this office instead of at the hospital.
“Is he breathing?” Daniel asked again after hours had past. The world outside had grown dark and the only reason they knew it was still raining was because of the pattering sound on the roof and the water streaming down the dark windows.
Jeremiah leaned forward. He smelled the vomit. He caught a gag in his throat. When he heard the slow exhale from Hosea, he looked up. “He’s breathing,” he answered Daniel.
“Good,” Daniel said and leaned back.
Daniel still gave no sign of bringing Hosea to the hospital. He had not called Ezekiel or Isaiah. He had not called an ambulance. He had not even called a doctor to come to the office to make sure Hosea would be alright. No ambulance. No medical assistance. No help at all. Jeremiah thought that was the stupidest choice they could make, and when he finally came up with the courage to ask his brother why they had not gone to the hospital, he was surprised to see Daniel did not yell at him this time.
Daniel only shook his head. “No,” he said. “No,” he repeated. “They’ll put him in a psych ward, and we need him here.”
Jeremiah pursed his lips. He nodded back toward Daniel, but he did not see how a psych ward was a bad thing. They were putting their brother’s life at risk by keeping him here. If they took him to the hospital, he could get treated how he needed to be treated. The doctors would take care of him. They would make sure he would not die. And if they did send him to the psych ward, Jeremiah knew it would not be hard to break him out. All they would need to do would be dress him up like one of their other two brothers. It would take a little creative thinking. That was it. But he did not say a word of what he thought. Jeremiah knew that Daniel did not have a creative bone in his body. He would not even begin to consider a creative solution. So, Jeremiah did not offer his ideas to his brother. He just sat and waited. He just sat and waited and listened to the rain outside and continued to tell Daniel Hosea was still breathing whenever Daniel asked.
As Jeremiah listened to the rain, he studied Hosea. Vomit still covered his brother’s shirt, and it reminded him that the wet at the front of his own shirt was not because of the rain. In the excitement and what he had perceived as an emergency, he had forgotten about the vomit and his disgust. Now, as he remembered, he looked down and felt nausea rise within him once again, and he knew if he did not clean up soon, he would be puking once more.
Jeremiah pushed himself up to his feet.
Daniel turned from the window at the sound and looked toward him. “What are you doing?” Daniel asked.
Jeremiah pursed his lips at Daniel’s question. He considered leaving the room without answering, but he knew Daniel might kick him out of the office if he did. And if Daniel kicked him out of the office, he would not be able to make sure Hosea was alright, and any chance he had of helping find the man who shot their father was gone.
“I need to clean the vomit off my shirt,” Jeremiah answered.
Daniel shook his head. “No,” he said. “I need you in here.”
Jeremiah shook his head back at his brother. “Why?” he asked. “It will only take me ten minutes. If I don’t, I am going to puke, and I am guessing you don’t want me puking on your floor.”
“No,” Daniel said again. “I need you here. I don’t know what is going to happen, and I don’t want to have to run all over the building trying to find you.”
Jeremiah thought of the vomit covering his shirt, and he was once more reminded of the nausea he felt. “I’m going to be in the bathroom. All you’ll need to do is yell.”
Daniel did not respond. He only stared at Jeremiah. Disapproval filled his face.
Jeremiah cursed under his breath. He walked over to Hosea, but he did not sit back down. “Okay, I’ll stay, Daniel, but what is the plan?” he asked.
“Plan?” Daniel looked out the window again as he spoke.
“After Hosea wakes up,” Jeremiah amended.
“If I can get him clean, I’ll get him clean,” Daniel answered.
“And after that?” Jeremiah felt anger rise in him.
“After that? After that, you won’t be helping me anymore. You don’t need to know what happens after that. Does that make sense?” Daniel finally looked over at Jeremiah.
“I’m seventeen,” Jeremiah answered.
Daniel nodded. “Exactly. Seventeen. Seventeen. And you can go and make sure Mom is alright. Make sure that she survives Dad being in the hospital.”
Jeremiah did not answer. He looked back at Hosea, and he saw Hosea’s eyes were open. His eyes were clearer than they had been before. They could see now. And they were squinting at him.
Hosea opened his mouth as if to speak, but he did not say anything.
“Hosea,” Jeremiah said.
Hosea looked straight at him, but still did not respond. His eyes were still squinted in confusion.
“He’s awake?” Daniel asked.
“He’s awake,” Jeremiah answered.
Daniel pushed himself up from his desk and began to walk over to Hosea.
Hosea looked up at Daniel and the confusion went from his eyes and a small smile lit up his face. “Danny,” he said. And Hosea laughed.
Daniel pointed to Jeremiah. “Do you recognize him?” Daniel asked.
Hosea looked over to Jeremiah. There was no recognition in his eyes. Hosea shook his head slowly.
“Jeremiah,” Daniel spoke the name louder than he needed to.
Hosea squinted again. He continued to shake his head. “No way,” Hosea answered. A sharp laugh left Hosea’s mouth. He glanced back at Daniel. “Funny. Funny,” he said before looking back at Jeremiah. “That’s funny, Danny.”
“Yeah, it’s funny, Hosea,” Daniel cut him off, “and it’s true.”
Hosea frowned. He shook his head again.
Daniel looked at Jeremiah “He’s got a while to go before he’s going to understand anything,” he said.
“How long will that be?” Jeremiah asked.
Daniel shrugged. “Withdrawal is a confusing process. Hosea’s gone through it a few times. It’s been different every time. Just don’t expect anything. It’ll be better if you don’t have expectations.”
Jeremiah nodded. He was not sure what that meant. He was not sure what to do with this information.
“Get him some water,” Daniel commanded. “He’s going to be dehydrated.”
“I am going to wash my shirt while I’m getting him some water,” Jeremiah said. He began to walk toward the door.
“No. I need you back here as soon as possible,” Daniel answered.
Jeremiah laughed. He now knew why Isaiah and Ezekiel did not like Daniel. “Hell if I’m not washing my shirt,” he muttered.
“Jeremiah,” Daniel’s voice was sharp.
Jeremiah stopped at the door. He glanced back at his brother, but before Daniel could continue to speak, there was a loud thud. This thud was followed by the sound of glass being broken. Daniel jerked his eyes toward the door. Jeremiah looked to Daniel, but he did not move. Daniel’s eyes were wide. Surprise. Jeremiah saw surprise in his face, and he heard Daniel let out a quiet curse. Daniel met his eyes. He pursed his lips, and he nodded toward the door. “Go,” he mouthed to Jeremiah.
Jeremiah’s was careful to make sure his feet did not make a sound as he moved through the door. The hallway was empty, but he heard another crash from around the next corner where the front doors were. As Jeremiah approached the corner, he pressed his body against the wall and inched forward. He heard another crash of glass as he peered around the corner. He saw the broken window. Glass glittered on the floor. Jeremiah saw a dark figure, a silhouette. That silhouette held an arm up near his head, and at the end of that arm, Jeremiah saw a pistol.
Jeremiah did not think of silence when he heard another window shatter. He jumped away from the corner, and his feet clopped loudly on the floor as he ran toward Daniel’s office.