All the Small Things (part 23)
The middle eight of Memory Lane filled the corridor when Doug reached the bottom of Tom's stairs. It covered his uneven shuffle to his room, drowned out the squeak and click of his door.
He dumped the carrier bag on the floor beside his dresser, turned and sat on the bed, flopped back and breathed a huge sigh.
From the vivarium came the faint scrabbling of a bearded dragon on the prowl. Doug rolled over, watched and smiled.
“Hungry, are you? OK.” He sat up, put his feet on the floor. He winced, looked down, sat back and pulled off his shoe. The sole of the white ankle sock was red, sticky and wet. He felt around inside the shoe, then looked at his hand.
“Crap.”
Doug dropped the shoe, hop-shuffled to the door, eased it open. He listened for a moment, frowned and shook his head, then crossed the corridor into the bathroom and stood one-legged in front of the basin. After a quick check in the mirror, he pushed the hair back from his eyes and filled the basin with warm water.
He lifted his leg, crossed it in front of him and propped his ankle on the edge of the basin, then eased his foot into it, grunting as the water found its way into the open wounds.
He ran his fingers over the sole, coaxing away the half-clotted blood, reached for his toes and moved round the basin, nearly overbalanced, hopped, and recovered. His breath came out in a soft whistle, he wiped his forehead on his sleeve, then started to rub at a dried clot along the edge of his sole.
“Where the fuck have you been? You can't just take off like that. We had-”
Doug's head jerked around.
“Oh, you twisted little pervert. Can't you do that in your room?”
Doug started to topple. He tried shifting his weight, but his foot caught on the edge of the sink and pulled him over. He grabbed for the radiator. His hand missed and struck the side like a hammer on a gong, and he thumped flat on his back at Tom's feet.
“What the hell?” The shout came from Danny's room, then a thud and the crash of cymbals falling over. Harry reached the door, took one look at Doug lying dazed and breathless, the sink full of blood and water, red and pink splashes everywhere.
“Oh fuck.” He lifted Tom, heaved him into the corridor, then fell to his knees, grabbed Doug and shook him. “Dougie, why?”
He turned his head. “Get an ambulance, he's-“
“What?” Tom tried to squeeze past, gave up and leaned in through the door.
“You should have talked to me.” Harry grabbed each of Doug's arms, searched up and down them. “One of us, I told you…” He pulled up Doug's shirt, checked his stomach. “Where is it?”
“Harry, no, I…” The groggy voice rose from the floor.
“Where? Fuck's sake, why did you do it?”
“Oh my God…” Tom saw the blood in the sink, turned pale and retreated.
“What?” Doug looked up, blinking, stretching his face. “The Tube, broke down, couldn't find a bus.”
Danny looked into the room. “Thought I were messy.”
“Call an ambulance, he's bleeding. Dougie, where did you cut yourself?”
“Get off me. It's only my foot.” Doug pulled his arm away, tried to sit. “You were all bloody there.”
The room was suddenly quiet.
“Tom, put that away, it's all right. Harry…” Danny put his hands on the drummer's heaving shoulders. “Harry. Mate.”
He squeezed. Harry's eyes turned to him, blinking.
“It's just his foot. Look.” Danny pointed. “He cut it this morning, on the glass. Remember?” He looked at Doug. “Walk far?”
Doug nodded. Harry rose to his feet, breathing hard.
“Got lost. The Tube wasn't running. Waited ages for a-”
Harry spun round and fled. A second later, they heard him coughing into the toilet next door.
Tom pushed back into the room. “Now look what you've done. God, Dougie, what were you thinking? You can be so-“
In an instant, Danny blocked his path. “That's enough.”
Tom stared, closed his mouth, turned on his heel and headed for the stairs.
“Come on.” Danny gave Doug a hand up, then looked around the room. “Might be easier in the bath,” he said.
“I was trying to be quiet.”
Danny laughed. “Never works for me, either.” He turned to the hand basin and pulled the plug.
Doug sat on the edge of the bath, swung his legs over and reached for the taps. “I'm so fucking stupid.”
Danny quickly rinsed the basin. He sat beside Doug, nodded at his foot. “You think you got more glass in it?”
Doug shook his head. “Would have been fine if I didn't have to walk back from fucking Edgware Road.”
Danny whistled. He watched Doug a moment longer, then stood. “You had us a bit worried. Thought you'd be OK, but…”
Harry reappeared at the bathroom door. Danny turned.
“All right now?”
Harry shrugged, nodded, looked at Doug. “You?”
Doug nodded, but didn't take his eyes from his feet.
“I better go sort out dinner, then. About half an hour.”
“'Kay, mate.” Danny watched Harry head down the corridor, then turned back to Doug.
“So, while Agent Double-O Dougie were off on his secret mission, Tom had us choosing songs for the album. Got twelve now, probably want a couple more. I'll show you what we've got in a minute. Oh, right, plasters…”
“I was thinking.”
“Yeah?”
“About Not Alone.”
“And…” Danny held out the box of plasters. “Here you go.”
“It's our first album. The songs should be all of us, not solos and duets. Would Tom and Harry, could we all do it together?”
Danny cocked his head, and smiled. “All right.”
“If…” Doug looked up. “When we do our Unplugged album…”
“Good man. You're on.”
Tom buried his face in his pillow.
You've done it again.
You heard the door, the water, you knew what you'd say. You had it all ready, even rehearsed a couple times in your head. Hi Dougie, are you all right, sorry about this morning, thanks for helping me, we're picking songs for the album, come and see what you think.
And there he was, hunched over the hand basin. Fair mistake, it wouldn't be the first time you walked in on him doing that. The sort of thing you all laugh at. Except…
Except he wasn't.
Except you snapped, called him a pervert. He fell, you didn't do anything, you didn't even notice the blood until Harry freaked out. Call that looking after him?
But if he hadn't just gone off like that in the first place. He had you worried sick. If he only stopped to think about other people…
Make him see sense. Make him see how much it hurts you.
He pushed harder into the pillow. Blue-white dots glowed, whirled and merged inside his eyelids, waterfalls roared in his ears. The bed began to spin, and he rolled onto his side and curled up facing the wall, panting.
His breathing slowed, the lights and roaring faded. He rolled onto his back, clasped his hands behind his head and stared into the posters on his ceiling.
“Danny?”
He raised his head, saw Doug at the door, smiled and waved towards the chair. He looked down at the lad's feet. One trainer flexed on the carpet as he balanced with the other hovering above the floor.
“I screwed up, didn't I?”
Danny sat back, tilted his head and frowned.
“Tell me, please.” Doug shuffled forward. “I… I can't ask Tom.”
“It's fine, mate, you're fine. You've done nowt wrong. No prob-lem-o.”
Doug stood still, his face calm, almost expressionless.
Danny's frown deepened. Seen that look somewhere before. He set his guitar aside, got up and put his hands on Doug's shoulders.
“Doug….”
Doug hesitated, then slowly lifted his eyes.
“You write great lyrics, you're a brilliant bass player…” Danny smiled. “Best lizard breeder I know.”
Doug's eyes flicked between Danny's. Right. Left. Right.
“And a good mate.” Danny nodded. “The best.”
Left. Right. Left. Doug started to turn. Danny stepped forward, pulled him back and hugged him.
“You've got nothing to worry about. Tom's got a million tons of stuff on his mind. He needs a lot of slack cutting right now.” He felt Doug shift.
“Mind you,” Danny said after a minute or two, “wouldn't hurt if you remember your phone when you go on them secret missions.” He hugged a little tighter. “Yeah?”
“I had to,” Doug said into Danny's chest. “It was important. Too late now.”
“So we know you're OK, that's all.”
They stood in silence. Danny felt Doug grow heavy in his arms, and his grip started to give way. He flexed his knees, pulled his arms up to re-clasp his hands.
Doug twitched. “Thought I… disappoint…”
“Er, Doug?” Danny angled his head and tried to see the lad's face. “Going to sleep on me, mate?”
Doug gasped and stood up. He looked around, pulled himself free and fled down the corridor to his room.
Danny took a step after him, then stopped. He watched Doug's bedroom door close, watched it stay shut. He turned back to his chair and picked up his guitar once again.
“You have to apologise, talk to him, explain and make things right.” You know that. But how? You don't know what's going on, can't even explain it to yourself.
You won't make it as far as “I'm”, never mind “sorry”.
“So write it down.”
It sucks, but it's the only idea you've got.
Tom got up, went to his desk, hunted for a pen, then for a sheet of paper. His hand brushed a key on the laptop. The welcome screen flashed up on the display.
His mouth dropped open.
It's dead. You tried everything last night, again this morning. Maybe you dreamt it. Maybe you're dreaming now. Any minute a six-foot bunny rabbit is going to tell you to wake up.
“Tommy Darko. As if. Get a fucking grip.”
His hands reached out, typed his password. The computer blinked, whirred, chattered. That annoying little tune never sounded so good. The icons on the screen filled themselves in. Everything's there, even… He ran his finger over the touch pad, clicked and watched the file unfold. His lips moved as he flicked down the lines.
“And now I'll never see the day again.”
A smile grew on his face, then faded. What about the copyright stuff…? He found the file, opened it, started to read through it.
Half an hour later, his phone rang.
“Harry… what? Oh, sorry. I was, hey guess- Harry?”
He looked at his phone, closed it. “OK, I guess I'll be right down.”
⇐ Part 22 - Part 24 ⇒