I'll Be Holding on to You

the afterparty

The girls were getting into their car. The blond turned to watch me. Her hair was almost white and it was perfect on her. I gave her a little salute and she responded with a small grin in spite of everything. She looked like she wanted to say something, but she just stared a second longer and then got in the car.

Freak stepped back out, shutting the door. "Fuck all of this," she said, her voice low so as not to upset Evie and Cam more. "No, seriously, I'm over this shit. I cannot fucking believe this just happened to us again. This is some fucked up shit."

She frequently lapsed into truck driver. When an exigency occurred. Or when she was perfectly happy. Or anytime, actually. Girl loved to curse. "At least we're all alive this time."

"Jesus, dude." I shuddered to think.

"Yeah, and none of us got shot, either. Bonus!" She gave an exaggerated sigh and threw her arms up. "So I'll drive Freddy's car to your house. You tell your mom we're gonna need her?"

"She'll see soon enough," I said wryly. I did text her to be prepared for crisis mode, and we made it home and I filled her in while everyone decompressed.

Half an hour later we were all (including Moey, who had returned from the hospital) safely ensconced in my living room with hot beverages, passing the vape pen.

My mom was sitting with Evie and Cam snuggled up to her like puppies. While Evie was a sensory avoider, she was exceptionally affectionate with those she trusted.

She had washed off all of her makeup and removed her wig, leaving her own super long, ultra-fine, white-blond hair to frame her elfin features. It looked like she was cosplaying herself.

Freddy called her Lady Amalthea, whom The Last Unicorn transforms into. It was an apt nickname.

Mo stepped out to smoke, the fucking traitor douche, and Erika and I were drinking coffee with a little bourbon in it to take the edge off, though none of us were big drinkers. Cam couldn't touch alcohol because it sent his medicated self FUBAR, which we'd seen once and therefore had no intention of allowing a repeat performance.

My mom had talked to Big Freddy and sent my dad to get Mo when we knew Freddy was going to be okay. He had woken up again and talked to the doctors, and they were keeping him overnight for observations, which we knew he was hating but he would do it good naturedly, as he did everything.

"There'll be plenty of fuckin' nurses to keep him happy," Erika reminded me because she knew I was brooding a little about Freddy all alone.

"He's sort of abandoned," I said, drinking some more coffee. The pen came my way and I puff-puff-passed. "But yeah, you're totally right."

"Everyone's taken care of. You can relax, Mom," she teased me, but gently. She was almost as bad as I was. We had our reasons.

"Shut up, dude." I made a face at my cup but finished it off. "Help me get blankets." I got up and Erika followed me to the linen closet in a swirl of her shampoo. It smelled exactly like my mom's purple roses, which to my olfactory senses were sweet enough to make my mouth water.

It was as close as any of us got to wearing scents, which could send poor Evie into a tailspin and/or migraine.

"Arms," I ordered, and she put them out. I piled blankets on and topped it off with two pillows, covering her face. "Perfect."

"Fuckin' Dory," came her muffled reply, but I could hear the smile in there. She turned and carefully made her way back to the others. Any of us could navigate my house blindfolded, anyway.

I took the rest in and we made a big nest on the floor. Mo was the first to settle in, a bag of cheese popcorn in his hand, his expression troubled. I sat by him and stole the popcorn, trading him for the vape pen.

"Moey," I said, patting his hand. "Hospital suck much?"

He wrinkled his nose. I needed to fix his braids. "Man." He shook his head. "Some g-g-guy broke his kid's arm for g-getting a c-cookie. I wanted to break his arm." He said the last quietly, so as not to trigger anyone feeling edgy. Which was all of us at the moment.

His stutter was painful to listen to.

"It's a fucked up world, my friend," I offered. He knew I meant it.

"Why can't p-people j-just act right." He was genuinely perplexed.

"I know." I thought of something. "Did you call 911?"

He nodded. "Couldn't say shit, th-though. Had to h-h-hope they would get the picture. Not that we n-needed them anyway."

We both looked at where Evie was almost asleep with her head in my mom's lap. Cam took the opportunity to slide down and crawl across to me to steal my lap for his own pillow. Bowser followed to curl up next to him with a little dog sigh.

"You okay, bb?" he asked, yawning, which made me yawn. His eyes were half-lidded, the tranqs well kicked in.

"Ready for bed. You?" I moved his hair out of his eyes though it wouldn't last long. My kingdom for the permission to cut it.

"Yeah. You the one that called the cops, Moey?"

"Yo," he answered half-heartedly, holding the popcorn out.

Cam shook his head. "I didn't even think about it."

We both looked at him like, Duh.

"Neither did I," I pointed out. "Kind of focused on not getting shot and shit." I reclaimed the popcorn and ate the last handful, crinkling the bag and tossing it in the general direction of the garbage can.

By the time my mom went up to bed, five of us were scattered were all over, with Moey in the kitchen baking something.

The two people missing were loud in their absence. We had become accustomed in our own way to being six out of seven, if only because we'd been forced to. Having Freddy gone too, even temporarily, was a trial.

So we slept.