**** Just saying, if Slivko were a Disney character, he would be Flounder. Ok, enjoy this chapter. ****
The combination of Slivko's comfortable shoulder, warmth, and rubbing my back soon made me realize I was exhausted. Every muscle that had been tensed from the stress of the day suddenly relaxed a bit, including my eyelids.
"Did you just doze off?" Slivko asked, an amused lilt in his voice.
"I'm so tired," I said lazily, putting so much of my body weight against Slivko.
"Oh, somebodies bed time," Hank commented when he noticed us.
"That doorway," he pointed past us. "Take a right then the last door on the right. I made the best hammock in there."
Slivko nodded and steered me that way. The hallway was really dark, only a shaft of moonlight from the far end came in. My sleepiness was slowly being replaced with fear again.
"I don't mind sleeping in there," I said, jerking my thumb back behind us.
"There's no where to sleep in there," Slivko pointed out.
"I can fall asleep anywhere."
"You'd be way more comfortable in the hammock."
"But where will-"
"Maybelle, what's wrong?" He asked pointedly.
"It's a dark creepy hallway and it's far from where the rest of you are and I'm scared," I admitted quickly.
Slivko chuckled as we finally entered the room. The hammock did look awesome, like you would feel like a baby kangaroo in a pouch. It hung to the left of the doorway and the wall to the right had an open window. It probably started as just a hole, but Hank had done his best to make it more homey.
"We're safe, remember? Hank said the wall keeps the big stuff out," Slivko reminded me, nudging me toward the hammock.
"Yeah, the big stuff. But what about the little stuff or the flying stuff or the crawling climbing stuff that could get through that window-" My increasingly agitated rant was cut off by Slivko's hand covering my mouth.
"Ok ok!" Slivko relented. "Geez now you've freaked me out. You think of everything." He complained.
I sniffled again and He sighed.
"What now?"
"Jack is out there with all of it," I choked.
"Maybelle," Slivko entreated, grabbing my shoulders. "Please turn off your brain and just go to sleep."
"I can't turn it off," I whimpered.
He stared at the ceiling for a moment, hands still braced on my shoulders.
"I hope nobody kills me for this," he finally sighed.
He led me over to the hammock and hopped right in, leaving one leg thrown over the side and planted on the floor.
"Get in," he sighed again.
Too tired to complain or argue, and actually grateful that I wouldn't be alone in this dark creepy place, I did as he said. The whole time I was trying to get in I had that funny sensation like when you lean back too far in your chair and expect you'll die. But when the peril was finally over and I was finally in, Slivko's right arm as my pillow, I had to admit it was a really awesome hammock. It wasn't stretched flat like most hammocks you see in people's back yards, it was more like trying to pick someone up in a blanket. The sides curled up around us cozily and rolled us toward each other. I soon had his shoulder as my pillow again and found a now familiar comfort in it.
"I'll keep your brain occupied till you fall asleep," he said quietly. "Why don't we play that game again, when we were walking through the jungle and taking turns asking questions."
I could feel the vibration of his voice when he spoke and our feet got all tangled together in the narrow end of the hammock as he set us rocking with his foot and pulled it in. I don't know if it was just because I was exhausted or what, but it was the most comfortable thing in the world to me.
"Ok, me first. What in the world do you smell like?" I asked.
"Smell like?" He asked surprised. "Dirt and sweat I'm sure- please don't sniff me," he said, grabbing my nose as I tried to smell his shirt.
"No, it's a good smell and I have been trying to figure it out since the night you helped me do the inventory," I explained as I grabbed his hand off my nose but didn't let go.
He seemed flustered.
"My aunt makes soap and she puts it in the care packages dad sends me, it's probably something in that," he explained.
I was about to ask him why he didn't mention his mom but he reminded me it was his turn.
"Why did you become an accountant?" He asked, not doing anything with the hand I was still holding.
I shrugged a little and used both hands to play with his, looking at it as I answered.
"It was the shortest and cheapest course they offered .. that would get me a good job anyway," I answered. He had extremely long fingers.
"I thought maybe you liked math," he said.
"I hate it," I giggled and he laughed at me too.
"How can an accountant hate math?!" He asked with a laugh.
"Easily," I answered. "Ok, so you said your dad had a garage right? So what's your favorite car?"
"Easy," he answered immediately. "68 Dodge Charger."
"Ooh," I commented. "In black I guess."
"Yep," I could hear the grin in his voice.
"Nice," I commented.
He hummed in thought and I could feel it in my ear.
"Is there anyone that would kill me for this?" He asked nervously.
"Maybe my mom," I chuckled. "But probably not if she knew the circumstances. Which she probably never will, so I just won't tell her about this." I answered his question and this led neatly to the one I wanted to ask.
"What does your mom put in your care packages?" I asked.
Slivko was quiet for a moment before he sighed.
"Nothing," he said in a voice so soft and sad I immediately regretted asking.
I held his hand tenderly, curly our arms in between us.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Slivie. I didn't mean to-"
"It's ok," he cut me off. "It's not like she abandoned me or anything. It was breast cancer, nothing anybody could do. Nobodies fault," he assured me, squeezing my hand back.
I nodded sadly and rubbed my thumbs on his hand in effort to comfort him.
"But we're trying to keep your mind off sad things, remember?" He asked with that usual Slivko pep in his voice again.
"I'm gonna ask questions and you just answer and try to fall asleep, ok? Hmm let's see.. do you like gold or silver?"
"Silver," I yawned.
"Batman or Super Man?"
"Spider-Man."
"That... wasn't an option, but noted. Sailing or flying?"
"Flying," I yawned again and curled into his side some, my eyes closing heavily and my nose getting a steady supply of soap and sweat and dirt that was kinda good all together in a weird way.
"Me or Conrad?" Was the last thing I heard from him that night.
"You," was the last thing I said.