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Chapter Nine- This Night Has Opened My Eyes

Much to Roy's disappointment, he didn't see any green fairies whilst under the influence of absinthe. He saw MacKenzie grinning at him in bed, and his good old ceiling. He wanted to write out his thoughts but didn't. And never wrote anything. He always wanted to do a lot of things but didn't.

His legs were spasming more than usual in bed. It started when he put back on his clothes.

He noticed the left leg was always worse. He still didn't understand why this happened. It was embarrassing and annoying. Sort of like Amanda from the library.

Amanda was a goddamn paraplegic leg spasm after a night of drinking absinthe and confessing your love to a girl in a bathtub.

He wondered how Amanda and Kevin took the news of Dahlia's death. He wondered how William reacted. He wondered a lot of things.

It wasn't my fault, this isn't my fault...

His heart ached. And MacKenzie was so soft, and he was still so tense. And the spasm would subside when she would grasp his left thigh. And he'd like to imagine what it would've felt like if he could have felt it.

"I'm sorry I overdosed."

MacKenzie ran her hand up and down Roy's leg attempting to calm down the tense muscles. Her eyes were closed. She smiled.

"We all do things for a reason."

"So things happen for a reason or we give it a reason after it happens?"

"Yes."

"You think we would've met elsewhere if I hadn't been in the hospital."

"Probably. If you were still with my sister. You think you would've dumped her for me?"

"Only if she dumped me for Sinclair."

"I appreciate your honesty."

"We're here now though."

Roy's leg spasms finally subsided. It was frustrating although he tried not to show it.

I don't care that you're paralyzed.

Roy knew she meant it but the selfish part of him wanted to be convinced otherwise.

He was afraid to move, to trigger it again, but he wanted to face MacKenzie. Her eyes were open and he wanted to catch her before she finally fell into absinthe-induced sleep.

"I'm sorry I'm broken."

"Don't say that."

He was sorry for a lot of things.

Roy swallowed. Why did he feel like he was going to cry again? He was never ever gonna drink absinthe...

"If you ever want to go back to Oklahoma I'd like to go with you," MacKenzie peeped up.

"I don't think I'm ever going back," Roy said in a low voice.

If his family really did blame him for Dahlia's accident, if they really did hate him now...there was no way. Unless he really wanted to get punched by Whit. And he didn't feel like getting another broken nose.

"You're still rebuilding your life you know."

MacKenzie stretched and slid under the covers.

My little inchworm.

Roy didn't respond to her.

"Don't forget you still have a one year appointment with Dr. Sharpe."

"What?"

"You didn't know that?"

"No I didn't know that." And he felt stupid considering it was normal.

"I'll come with you. I'll come with you anywhere. Oklahoma. The doctor. Real estate offices."

"Real estate offices?" Roy asked.

"If you ever wanna buy your own place and stop renting," she said, gradually dozing off.

"Maybe someday," Roy sighed. "Hey...hey, are you sleepin'?" He nudged her.

She curled into him, squeezing his side. She was so delicate. Like a rose petal. She smelt like jasmine even after taking a bath. Her hair was damp and strands stuck to her forehead. She was still smiling, and Roy still wanted to cry. But he couldn't help but smile while looking at her sleeping form.

*

Fog. Clouds.

He can barely see.

The moonlight barely lights his path as he walks through a moorish landscape. There's no trees, but hills, heather and shrubs blowing in the wind that seem to go on for miles and miles.

His lantern is about to run out and he quickens his pace. Although he doesn't know where he's going.

The hills fade away into a flat ground, a swampy marsh close in the distance. He gets to his knees and sets down his lantern.

He claws into the freshly placed mound of dirt, sinking his hands deep into the damp earth. He digs and digs, dirt flying into his face and over his shoulders.

Suddenly he hits wood. He's nearly six feet under. He pries open the box, his nails searing into the opening. Blood runs down his fingers but he finally forces it open.

He crawls inside the coffin, curling up next to the cold and decaying corpse of someone he once pretended not to love...

*

But in reality it wasn't her. MacKenzie curled up next to him, her warm body breathing heavily, her chest rising up and down to the ticking of the clock. Warm, alive, breathing. Dead to the world. But very much alive.

Alive, alive, alive, alive.

He did want to rebuild his life. He did want to do something. Dahlia was always pushing for that. She was pushing for a lot of things, and Roy didn't want to listen. And he really wished he would have.

He still wanted to escape. He wanted to run far away. Was he happy in Los Angeles? Could he be?

The next few days whenever MacKenzie wasn't working, she insisted she and Roy explore parts of the city they'd never been before.

And Roy tried to smile and pretend this was what he wanted but in reality he just wanted to go to sleep. He wanted to sleep for decades and forget everything.

Even looking at her bright smile in the bright sun on the streets of LA, her walking in front of him, pulling his hand like a child, stopping at parks and flower shops and bakeries that no one ever went to. Even when she kissed him in front of strangers and played with his hair and when she talked about her love of vanilla ice cream. The spice of life that could never satisfy Roy's taste buds. Even then. Even with all those things. Her smile and vigor and wanderlust and body and legs that seemed to go on for miles.

Even with all those things.

A part of him still believed he didn't deserve it. To have her in his life, to spend this time with her, to love her, to touch her, to be happy.