Cadaverous Love

Chapter Fourty-Nine

"Almost ready to go?" Dal asks, pulling on his jacket.

I tug the blanket over my shoulder, "do I look like I'm ready, Dallas?" I ask, still in bed.

"Hell," he laughs, "well, you're dressed aren't you?"

"In the clothes I've been wearing for three days. I mean, at least I've changed my underwear." I almost laugh at myself.

"Why didn't you just change into something else last night after you got out of the shower?"

"I didn't feel like moving anymore than I really needed to." I respond, finally gathering the strength to pull back the sheets and climb out of bed. My arms and my legs ache with a soreness that's on the brink of becoming overwhelming. I sit back down, rubbing my arms, "I can't," I tell Dallas, "Dally, I can't."

"Just give me a second," he takes an empty bottle of Coke and walks to the bathroom. I listen to the sound of running water as I close my eyes and wait for him to return. I breathe deeply, trying to focus on the air that fills my lungs rather than the hurt deep in the marrow of my bones. There's a tap on my shoulder, "here," Dallas hands me some Tylenol and the recently-filled bottle of cloudy water. I decide to swallow my complaints along with the pills.

"Can we wait until they start to work?" I ask, handing the bottle back to Dally, not wanting to hold it anymore. He puts it on the night stand and sits down on the bed beside me.

"Sure," he yawns, laying back and stretching out.

"What are we even going to do in Vegas?" I question, unable to stuff the remonstrations further down my throat.

"I dunno." He sets his hand on my back and runs his thumb over the fabric of my shirt, imitating a comforting gesture I have shown unto him.

"You're not going to gamble, are you?" I look over at him. He stares up at the ceiling in silence, answering my question without words, "okay, now you've got to be kidding me."

"What?" Dallas asks, sass finely laced in his voice, as if he thinks I'm trying to be funny. "No, I won't gamble."

"Okay then, what will we do?" I keep my gaze on him, "honestly, Dallas, what else is there to do there?" I can feel the irritation stinging at the bottom of my spine, making it uncomfortable to stay sitting, but with the Tylenol still kicking in, there are no other options.

"We'll figure it out," he shrugs, finally looking back at me, "we can go to the national park, you like nature, don't you?" I nod, "well, there we go. We can go see the big red rocks," he laughs lightly, "when'd you get so pissy anyways?"

"When my boyfriend decided to take his dying girlfriend to Las Vegas for some unknow-no-good reason." I keep back the rest of my bitterness, a bit surprised myself that I am so, as Dallas put it: pissy.

"Shit," he rolls his eyes at me, "the state park is real pretty, you'll like it." He nods, sure of his statement, "I know you will. I'll take you shopping too, and to some of those fancy restaurants."

I sigh, "have you been there? And with what money?" My mind goes back to the wad of cash he stuffed in his pocket before we left Buck's, "where'd you get it all from?"

"Yeah I've been. Money's from Buck," Dal responds shortly.

"What'd you do for it?"

"Killed a man," he jokes, sitting up slowly, "no, nothin', I've just been savin' is all. The hell you think I'd do?"

I shrugged, "well, you did hand me some, I'm going to guess illegal, drugs one day. I assumed that you had a plethora of them."

Dallas rubs his eyes and shakes his head, "they're Buck's. I smoke but I don't mess around too much with the real bad stuff. Not like a lot of other people I knew." He gets to his feet, "I've seen one too many guys get fucked up in the head, I don't want to be like they were."