Going to Clint's

Outside of the police station, Chris and Katrina took a left turn and headed towards the church. Instead of stopping, Katrina announced that they were going over to Clint’s. Chris was excited, he desperately wanted to hear Clint's story about Emily. Once They walked through the headstones, past the bell tower and through the other-side of the church, they were in the residential area. Another few minutes of weaving through streets and ducking under over grown trees, they arrived at a smaller, one-storey brick house. Chris noticed the brush was grown out and the grass hadn’t been mowed in about a month. There were trees in the front of the house that were so big and full, they looked like ancient guards hovering over the front yard; scaring away any unwanted intruders.

Katrina walked up to the door and pushed it open with no hesitations. Chris tentatively followed, examining the interior walkway decorated with family pictures. Clint obviously hadn’t had the heart to take them down since his wife’s passing. Everything was neat and tidy, but Chris assumed Mama had a hand in that.

Katrina was sad at the appearance of Clint’s house; she could remember playing in the front yard with Emily. Now the front yard resembled a house that neighborhood kids all over would be afraid to come to on Halloween; afraid they would be gobbled up by little old witch.

She pushed through her feelings like a velvet curtain, walked up to the door and opened it like she was to be expected. She had already been inside since she’s been back, but it still surprised her how unchanged the house was. She would have thought Clint would have tried to re-decorate, renovate or even move out of the house when the chaos started to subside.

She walked through into the living room where Clint was sitting with Mama on the long, brown, faux-velvet couch. They were already looking up to see who had walked through the door uninvited. Both smiled at the sight of Katrina, but Katrina noticed the smile melt off Clint’s face when Chris came out of the hallway.

“Who’s this?” Clint demanded.

“This is Katrina’s friend Clint, all the way from New York.” Mama offered.

“I met him on the plane out here.” Katrina said. “We told you about him.” Katrina said excitedly, trying hard to diffuse the bomb that was about to explode.

“The one reporting on the infection?”

“Yes, that’s me.” Chris smiled the biggest smile he could muster and walked up to Clint to shake his hand— despite the fact Clint was still sat comfortably on the couch. Looking through Clint’s eyes into his angry and destroyed spirit made Chris feel sympathetic and intimidated all at the same time.

Clint didn’t shake Chris’ hand, instead he got up, excused himself and walked down another hall into what Chris assumed was a bathroom.

“Sorry,” Mama and Katrina blurted.

“It’s OK.” I’m an unwanted guest, trying to pry into his life again.

“Maybe just don’t ask any questions until he gets to know you a bit more around here chicken.” Mama warned.

“No problem.”

Clint came out of the bathroom and stopped in the entrance to the living room. “Look, I’m kinda tired. It’s almost two O’clock. I think I’m gonna take a nap. Katrina, if you want, go down to Emily quickly and then I’d appreciate it if y’all would leave.” He turned and walked through the hallway into his bedroom.

Chapter 9: The morning after

9

Chris woke-up and looked at his watch; It was eight O’clock on Saturday morning. He tried to piece together the night before but his pounding head and stale tasting mouth reminded him.

“Ugh, I’m never drinking again.” He said to himself. It had been a long time since he had that much to drink. The memories of the rest of the night were washed away with his second beer on the rooftop.

He thought about sitting up and getting dressed. He could hear Jerrid and Mama in the Kitchen and he didn’t want to be rude, sleeping in all day. First he needed to lay a little longer until his head and inner ear allow him to be vertical--for more than three seconds. He curled into a fetal position with half of his legs hanging over the bed. He could feel a draft making it’s way down his back, he tried to pull the covers around him some more but they wouldn’t budge. He tugged a little harder then they tugged back. He flipped over to his right side to confront who or what was playing tug-O-war with him.

Katrina was laying with her back to him. She kept her eyes closed with the light from the window penetrating her eyelids. Her whole body was in pain from the level of toxicity in her blood.

She was still dressed in her clothes from the night before so Chris assumed nothing happened between them, but he had to be sure.

“Hey...” He shook her lightly, “Hey. What are you doing here?”

“This is my house,” she mumbled.

“I know. What are you doing in my bed?”

Katrina turned over and stared at him a moment. “You asked me to sleep here last night,” She waited for a response from him and leaned up on her elbows. “Oh, you don’t remember,” She rubbed her face, “You said you were scared and asked if I would protect you.”

“I did?”

Katrina nodded and chuckled “You were joking I think. We were both pretty drunk though.”

“Did anything happen?”

“Well, you’re still alive aren’t you?”

“No, I mean between us? Did we…?”

“Oh, no. Look I’m completely dressed.” She lifted the blanket to flash him her fully clothed figure. I wouldn’t have minded, she thought before mentally disciplining herself.

“Okay good.”

“Good?” Katrina was aware she took that the wrong way; thinking Chris would never want to have relations with her.”

“Don't take that the wrong way. I just meant I’d hate to complicate this for you.” He would have been open to start something with Katrina if they lived in the same city; she was his type but he didn’t want to use her for sex. “I don’t want to hurt you either.”

“I get it. Okay. Just think of it as a sleep-over.”

“I’m going to get dressed and go out to the kitchen, it sounds like Mama and Jerrid are up.”

“Okay, I’ll be out in a minute. I can smell egg and pastry; breakfast is almost ready.”

Chris sniffed the air, but couldn’t smell anything.

Chris grabbed his jeans off the floor and pulled them on under the covers. He grabbed a shirt nearest to him and glanced at Katrina who was lying with her eyes closed, willing her stomach to stop turning. She needed to give herself a shot as soon as she could stand. That would cut her hangover in half. She was starving and knew the medication would cut that in half, too.

“I’ll see you out there?”

“Yup.”

Jerrid was sitting at the kitchen table sipping a coffee and reading a newspaper. He looked up and nodded at Chris as he came in. When he looked back at the paper, Chris walked over to the kitchen where Mama was making something that smelled like it would help his hangover.

“Sit Chicken, I’ve made a breakfast quiche for y'all, it’s just cooling. Coffee?”

“Yes, please.” He sat down in the wooden chair waiting for someone to strike up a conversation.

Mama set a cup of terra-cotta colored coffee in front of him, along with two Tylenol and one vitamin.
“Multi-vitamin, it will help your hangover.”

“How’d you know I take cream in my coffee?”

“Oh, lucky guess I suppose, you look like a cream type of guy.” Jerrid chuckled through his nose and peered at Chris through the tops of his eyes. Mama winked at him and wandered back towards the kitchen. “Where’s Trinket?”

Chris stiffened, wondering if she already knew where she was. He glanced at Jerrid who could be less interested in him at the moment.

“Uh, sleeping I guess?” Mama didn’t reply which made Chris even more curious. “Do you want me to wake her?”

“No no, hangovers affect her more than us. Leave her be.”

“’Kay.” Chris could hear the crackling of bacon in a frying pan and his mouth started to water. “Smells delicious.”

“Thanks Chicken.”

Chris heard his bedroom door open. He turned in his chair to look down the hall. Katrina was closing his door and opening the bathroom door. He turned back towards Jerrid-- who saw the same thing. Jerrid stared at Chris a moment before clearing his throat and re-occupying himself with the two-day-old newspaper he was reading. He glanced at Chris only once more through the corner of his eye. Chris, in a moment of panic shook his head; he wanted to yell that nothing happened, but Mama hadn’t seen it and he didn’t want to make a bigger situation of it than it already was.

“What’s your plan today Chicken?” Mama put a slice of the breakfast quiche in front of them both, along with silverware and napkins. They both looked at her to see whom she was referring to. She looked at Chris waiting for a response. Jerrid folded his paper and set it on the chair beside him. He grabbed the quiche with his hand like a piece of pizza and finished it in three bites.

“Oh, I have to go talk to Glen O’Hare. Soon actually.”

“About what?” Jerrid asked through a mouthful of egg and crust.

“Oh, didn’t you hear? I’m thinking about becoming one of Forest Hills’ finest, Glen’s going to show me the ropes. I think I might even get a badge today.”
Mama chuckled and took Jerrid’s plate to get him another helping. Jerrid finished chewing his food, “Are you being a smart ass?”

“Yes.”
They both dropped the subject and Mama came to sit with them.