Way the Ball Rolls - 1. The Phonecall

The phone... beeping – So, that’s what woke me up. Still groggy, I reach under my pillow. No one is supposed to be calling me while it’s still dark out. Rather, no one is supposed to be calling me, period. Blinking, bleary eyed I see that I have 3 text messages. Shit! Is that all it took to wake me up?

Marky?– Maybe I woke up because I have been waiting for this, subconsciously aware of nothing but just that little ‘beep’? Does that even make sense?

3.22 am

R u working today? Can I come over?

3.30 am

Wake up. Can’t call. Important. Need help. Pls? Answer!

3.35 am

I’m on my way.

WTF?!?! Something’s wrong, something’s seriously wrong. I haven’t heard from Mark in two days and I was going stir crazy trying to find him and trying to answer to everyone asking where he was.

Now, he messages me and, fuck, he’s coming over? NOW? It’s 3.47 already, that means I have less than 10 minutes to get to the ground floor and unlock the door for him. That is, if he’s walking over from the garage. Fuck! Where the hell was he?

Really? Where are the sweatpants when you need them? The t-shirt is just halfway down my torso when my phone buzzes again. Hurrying down the stairs, almost tripping on the first floor landing, I manage to open the door and let my shivering, red-eyed, shaking, clearly weaving 'better half' in.

“Holy mother of ...” he doesn’t even look at me as he pushes past me, entering full speed; well, as much speed as his dishevelled state allows him, running, almost tumbling up the stairs; with me following half a minute behind, having had to reset the alarm to the main entrance.

Shit! He’s in big trouble, I know it! I can almost feel it! Never have I seen him looking like this before.

I reach my room to find Mark face down, sprawled out on my bed. I can tell he’s not asleep, not yet, but given the way his head is turned away from me, I can also tell that he does NOT want to talk to me right now! We’d never had any trouble communicating before. I can read the signs very well. So, I take a seat near the headboard, as far away from him as possible. And wait... wait for him to tell me what brought him to me now, what it is that can’t wait, not even till the next morning!

Slowly his breathing evens out and I realise he’s just fallen asleep. So, is it that he just needs the rest? But... where the hell has he been these last two days? Mark never ignored my calls; he’s never failed to reply to my messages, even if they’re often late. But, hey, that’s inevitable at times.

I look down at the dishevelled Mark, the Mark who lost everything that had meant anything to him, when we were both in high school. Mark, who looks absolutely like shit right now, and needs to be dumped in the shower; something he’s never managed to look like even when he’s had to work his butt off hour after hour in the auto repair shop; just so that he could keep fed and clothed. Mark, who looks so peacefully at ‘home’ now, like he always did, since we were about 13, and he rarely ever went back to the shoddy rented motel room that was his mother’s idea of ‘home’; where she ‘entertained’; sleeping, just like did all those nights. I think he’s slept more on my bed that he has everywhere else, put together.

The scruffy clothes, the dirty face, the deep frown lines, even when he’s asleep, are unlike anything I’ve ever seen on him! It’s almost like looking at someone else... someone who looks exactly like Mark, my Mark, but just not him.

I know waking him up is not a good option right now, but he looks so... so unsettled, somehow. So, I did what I did best... He has always been a sound sleeper, but somehow, he responded to my voice even when he was sleeping... so...

“Marky, just help me remove the jacket.” The soft nudge to his back is all I need to get him to turn and softly sigh as he assists me in undressing him.

“Water,” he whispers. His voice is so scratchy; I can’t help but think that he’s not had even water to drink for quite a while.

The water dribbles down his chin, onto the covers as he tries to drink half-lying and half-seated, tiredly propped up on his elbow with me supporting his head. He looks up at me in a silent apology as he hands the bottle back to me. I can’t help but smile and comfort him at the lost look in his eyes.

“You look terrible!” I couldn’t help the grin.

“Sweet talker!” he groaned.

“Sleep now... Hush... just sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.” I don’t want him talking in this state. I just want him to look more like a human than the zombie that’s staring back at me!

“’k!” That’s all the verbal response I get when I enfold him in my arms and he’s out like a light within the next minute.

I can’t leave him like this for the whole day. I need to take a leave. And knowing today is Sunday, getting a leave will be tough. The medicine shop I work in is the only one in the neighbourhood that’s open on a Sunday. I didn’t get it how even pharmacists took regular holidays on a Sunday! I mean, everywhere they should have a rule or something that mandates that some of the shops need to remain open on every day. Maybe they could rotate the weekly off or something.

I need to call Matt, my manager; he knows that I wouldn’t take a leave unless it’s an emergency. But, it’s just 4.25 am: a little too early to be calling him. So I decide to send a message and I’ll just call him when I wake up, that way, he’ll have the information and well, he can scream at me later if he wants to!

‘Family emergency. Can’t make it today. Just got the news. Will call later.’ Good, that should suffice.

Stifling what feels like the fifth yawn, while typing that tiny sentence, I hit send and settle down in the bed, beside Mark; smiling, when I feel him moulding his body to fit in my arms.

'10:15' Shit! Is it that time already? My first reaction is to sit upright and that’s when I notice Mark; dishevelled, worn out and I notice, for the first time, the cuts on his face and palms. What the hell did he get into? I mean, this is Mark, my Mark, who slept over at my house since... since forever... just so that he’d not have to use force to scare away his mother’s ‘friends’ when they tried to get ‘something extra’ out of the money they’d pay Ms. Morris.

Touching the scrapes, I can feel that they’re still raw, and not to mention dirty. I need to get him into the shower, and soon. Then I’d have to clean these up, so that they don’t get infected. As I draw back the covers, I have to smile at Mark’s sleepy efforts to try to pull them back on him again. He’s so not a morning person.

Drawing a bath seemed like a better idea, given how weak and tired Mark looked last night. Letting the taps fill up the tub, I come back into the room, trying to rouse Mark and get him undressed.

“C’mon babe, help me here, you need a shower. And, now!” I should be better able to keep my exasperation under control. But, give me a break already. I have been worried sick for the past two days and now I have an incoherent boyfriend, who’d not only obviously been in trouble, but also reluctant in trying to provide me with details.

“That your way of telling me I don’t get a ‘good morning’ kiss?” Dammit! How can he even manage that half loopy smile of his in this barely unconscious state?

“Move your ass Mark! The water’s getting cold.” I have to sigh at his slow movements. But at least that got him to look at me and stand up; looking more aware of his surroundings.

Shucking his clothes like a breadcrumb trail, he just walks in to the bathroom, not even bothering to draw the curtain after him. Picking up his clothes, I drop them into the hamper; I hear him humming his appreciation at the hot bath. Shit, the questions are just bubbling up from inside of me.

Coffee! I need coffee to release me from my stupor! I hadn’t even taken two steps when I hear the soft,

“Zach? Where’re you?”

Know how they say our mind is super-fast? Well, they’re not lying. It takes me less than 10 steps to make it to the bathroom, and within those 10 steps, I’d imagined at least 10 scenarios where he’d not survive the 30 seconds that would take me to reach him.

I almost run, my mind whirling with ‘what if’s; as I turn the corner to look into the bathroom, I see Mark, naked, sitting on the edge of the tub, with his feet in the water. He grins at me when he sees me. Did he think I hurried because I was eager to get into the tub with him? Not that I am not mind you, but, JESUS, doesn’t the guy know how much I worry about him?

I am incredulous as I just stare at him. I can’t help it, how can I? This is Mark, my Mark, the guy I’ve loved for God knows how long; ever since I saw him I think. It’s like my mind had no control over my body and I can definitely feel the effects of his inviting smile and my blatant stare are having on my body.

“C’mon Zach, like you said, the water’s getting cold!”

“Hmmm... sure, do you need help?” I was kicking off my boxers by that point already. I don’t really care if he needs help or not, he is going to have it anyway.

Honestly, he doesn’t look all that good right now. His shoulders drooping, knees scraped, a bruised collarbone, as if someone had shoved him, and hard; honestly, he looks a little worse for wear.

Worst of all is the grime sticking to him all over, he clearly hasn’t had a shower in the last 2 days he hasn’t been home, so... I have to get him cleaned up and checked first; the questions driving me crazy will have to wait a while. Sighing, I kneel down beside the tub and proceed in helping him get a thorough cleanup.

It’s weird how my protective side takes over so easily, I mean, here I am in the tub with him, naked, trying to wash him from head to toe, rubbing every bit with a wet wash cloth and all I can think about is if it’s hurting him, and the places I need to pay special attention to or avoid altogether!

By the time I get to his toes, the questions in my head are threatening to spill out of my mouth. I look up to see Mark’s head resting on the wall of the tub, eyes closed; he looks so tired. But, I do need answers. The last two days have been hell on my part as well.

“Mark?”

“Hmmm...?” Damn, just opening his eyes seems like such a huge task for him.

“C’mon, let’s get you dried and fed.” His eyes finally focus on mine. I can see the emotions running through them. And I can see... I can see that he wants me to ask the questions... I can almost feel the words about to pour right out of him.

Does he feel the need for me to ask the questions for him to tell me what happened? Of the two of us, he’s the one who’s more sensible, so... well, it’s natural for him to feel conscious to burden me with whatever he feels, I suppose. But, does he not realise what’s going through my mind right now?

I guess my gaze said it all while he is drying himself with a little help from me, the way I cannot help glancing at his scrapes, the way I am wincing every time the towel brushes over the bruises...

“Zach?” Mark’s soft voice makes my eyes snap up to his. The concern overshadowing the pain I saw there earlier.

“Yes?”

“Aren’t you going to ask me where I was, or what happened?” The pain and uncertainty in his voice almost made my eyes tear up. Did he really think I didn’t care that much as to even bother asking him?

“I... well, I figured you’d tell me when you’re ready,” I try to shrug off the uneasiness, as I can’t even meet his eyes. He doesn’t need to know the weird theories going on in my head; hiding stuff from him has never been my strong suite!

“Dammit, babe, don’t do that! You know I’d tell you right?” That earns him a look and a shrug as I keep tying to find my favourite pair of sweatpants, yeah, i have one.. so bite me!

What the hell does he want me to say, that it’s okay if he’s beaten up and clearly in trouble and I’m too much of a wuss to even ask him? Or that it’s fine by me if he decides to not tell me if he’s in trouble and something bad has happened and he cannot confide in me because he can’t trust me enough! I really don’t know which one’s worse.

“Yeah... well...” Shit! That’s what comes out of my mouth, when my brain’s going a mile a minute? “Let’s get some food into you, when did you eat last?”

“I grabbed some sandwich for lunch yesterday.” I turn away from him to make my way to the kitchen as I have clearly no idea how to begin the conversation. I need to sort out the jumbled mess in my head first. “Zach! Don’t walk away!” Huh? That makes me turn around to him in confusion. Walk away? Didn’t he just hear me telling him about the food, where does he think I’m going?

“What? I’m just going to make some pancakes. Come on... we’ll talk in the kitchen.” Not waiting for his answer I turn back and proceed in my endeavour of trying to make breakfast. I can hear the drawers in the bedroom as I am gathering up stuff.

Opening the fridge I see that we’re out of eggs, well, there goes my brilliant plan of pancakes then. So I just grab the milk and two bowls, and sit on the counter, waiting and trying to think what to say.

Coffee, I need coffee to start functioning properly! By the time I gulp down half the mug in two swigs, Mark walks in and sits down.

“Coffee?” I raise my mug at him.

“Nope, just the cereal will do. What happened to the pancakes?” His grin almost transforms his face. Oh, well, I guess I do deserve the ridicule that comes along with my cooking.

“No eggs.” I can’t help but smile back at that. “So, are you going to tell me, or am I going to start with the ridiculous twenty questions?”

“Oh, heavens save me from your twenty questions!” Well, he does know me too well to know how my imaginations lack reins. “I’ll just tell you! It’s no big a deal honestly.” He adds, almost cautiously, as if trying to gauge my reaction to his words.

“Well... what is it?” I am too impatient for my own good. It is not even half a minute of quiet when I decide to pipe up.

“Nothing much really,” he starts looking down at his bowl. “Thursday night we had a new car come in, well, not really a new car, I mean, a new job... eh, you know what I mean!” he looks up at me and I nod. “Anyway, the car is beyond repair so we started taking it apart. And earlier, Oscar was having a blazing row with Rory over some spare parts. To make the long story short, Oscar and Rory got in to a fight and well, it was almost lunch time, so I had to step in as well, to separate them. And these bruises you see are just the souvenirs I got from both of them.” His chuckle has an edge to it that I can’t quite place.

Could it be the irony he’s smiling at? “Anyway, I fell down, and grabbed Oscar’s legs, which caused him to topple over as well and hit his head on the car seat we’d taken apart earlier. Shit, Zach, you should have seen it. It was such a mess. I mean, blood everywhere... I had to hold on to him while Rory called the paramedics and well, that’s when we took him to the hospital.”

“Shit, is he going to be okay? What about Rory?” I can’t help but be concerned about these guys, they’ve seen us through thick and thin too and they’re really stand-up guys that I am proud to call friends. Rory, being the kid of the group is just 17 and hot headed as a bull, so he faces lot of nonsense from both his mum and the boss. Although, I don’t know why Oscar gives him grief; as far as I can tell, Rory is a genius when it comes to auto repair: not like that’s saying much, mind you.

“Oscar needed to be stitched up and we couldn’t find his girlfriend, so I had to stay with him all the time in the hospital. I was so worried that he’d be worse than he was. The doctor wouldn’t say anything concrete till he regained consciousness. And he took a while in coming around, so...” he shrugs, finishing up his cereal.

“And Rory?”

“Rory and I both got checked out, so I know we have no broken bones or anything, just some nasty bruises. But, I had to send Rory home. He gets enough shit at home as it is. Besides he’s a minor, he wouldn’t have been allowed to stay there without parental permission anyways.”

“And you didn’t think to call me to let me know?” I can’t quite keep the bitterness out of my voice. I mean, it’s really great that he worries and cares about small little things in others situations, but what about me? I mean, don’t I deserve even that much?

“Awww babe, don’t be like that!” He wraps his arms around me from behind as he rests his chin on my shoulder. “I had to switch the phone off in the ER and I forgot about it completely. I just figured you’d know that something was up and not worry much, because, if I was in any kind of trouble, you’d know.”

Dammit, he knew exactly how to win me over. But I can’t really help the pout that comes along with the tiny last complaint. “But how am I supposed to know if your phone is switched off? I was worried. And John called, said you had promised to call him with news. He sounded pissed. What news? And how does John have my number?”

“Wait, John called you?” he lifts his chin up to look into my eyes, and I nod, feeling the sudden tension in his arms. “That son of a... I told him to never ever call you. And babe, he’s my boss, of course he has your number, it’s on my emergency contact card.” The fond smile along with what he just said such matter-of-factly makes me smile as well.

“Oh, but he sounded upset. Is everything all right at the garage? He mentioned something about new employees. And I was thinking ‘WTF’ because you’re anything but that!”

“Ya, well... You know how easily he gets worked up. You done with this?” Mark grabbed my now empty bowl and carried it to the sink. “It’s just a new car that he acquired after a lot of tussle. So he just flipped I think. Especially, since it was that car’s seat that Oscar bled on.”

Oh! I feel like an utter fool at how much I freaked out! And shit, I just wasted a whole night’s sleep and worried bad enough to have to take my SOS pills last night. Wrapping my arms around him I just stand behind him while he finishes the dishes.

“Want to head back to bed, babe? I didn’t get much sleep the last two days either!” I couldn’t help relaxing and sagging against him, he must have been tired too. There’s no way someone could sleep, and sleep well in a hospital chair!

“C’mon.” He leads me towards the bed room with a smile as soon as he’d done washing.

It’s late— much too late for me to be in bed; feeling around, I see that it’s cold. So, Mark’s been up for some time?

“Mark?” Ugh, my throat is scratchy. I sit up, noticing that it’s past six in the evening. “Mark, you in the kitchen?” Why isn’t he answering? Is he okay? It takes me all of one minute to scan my oh-too-spacious apartment, and finding it devoid of life other than me, I panic again. Where the hell is he?

Picking up my phone from my nightstand I see that there’s a note under it.

‘Hospital called, got to go. Be back soon. Phone might be off. Don’t panic.’

Oh well, so, that explains it. But, he didn’t leave any time on it, I just wandered around the apartment picking up waylaid things and trying to put them back in their proper places; thinking about what I should do for dinner. I’d just considered ordering a pizza, but I don’t want it to get cold when Mark finally gets a chance to eat it.

Feeling very hungry at the moment I decide to order some Chinese, since that’s the thing that will re-heat pretty well in a microwave. As I am about to dial, the phone in my hand starts beeping; Mark.

“Hey babe! Was just about to order dinner.”

“Zachary?” The cold unfamiliar voice chills me to my bone. The first thought in my head is it’s the hospital. Something’s wrong with Mark, and they’re calling from the emergency card. But...

“Yes, who’s this?”

The silence on the other end is deafening. That’s when I realise it isn’t the hospital. A hospital will have much more noise, also, why would the hospital use Mark’s mobile to call me, and not their landline?

“Hello, anyone there?” I just couldn’t take the silence anymore. Muffled voices, followed by some scruffy noises, suddenly I hear a scream in the background. Rory! Shit! “Rory?” I regret as soon as the word is out of my mouth.

“Shut up Zach!” growls another voice into the phone. “Now, just listen and do exactly as I tell you. And if you do well, you might get to see your boyfriend alive.”

“WHAT THE FUCK?” That thought is the first that comes to my mind, and I realise a second too late that I’d said it out loud.

“SHUT UP!” The commanding tone is back. “And don’t even try any fancy stuff, you hear? No police, no neighbours, no nothing. Or else, you wouldn’t even find his body.”

To say that I am in the verge of wetting my pants will be the understatement of the millennium.

“Say ‘yes’ or ‘no’ Zach, I don’t have the luxury of watching you dumbly nod your head!” he barks in my ear.

“Y...Yes.” that’s about all I can croak.

“Good, so, listen carefully, because I’m only going to be saying this once!”

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