Artifacts, Chapter Four: Recovery

Chapter Four: Recovery

Milo placed his ear above his mother’s breath mask and he felt the occasional wind hissing from the filters at the bottom. She was still breathing this time.

“How can you be so calm about this? Is she okay?” Lena shouted, her hands over her mouth.

Milo didn’t answer the question, but instead grabbed Cecile’s arm and called Lena over by waving with his head, “Can you help me roll her over?”

Lena immediately came to his aid and together they flipped her over onto her left side. A stream of vomit then exited Cecile’s mouth and escaped out onto the floor. Its stench filled Milo’s breath mask and the specific smell did not surprise him. Lena looked away and gagged.

Milo then grabbed one of the jars next to Cecile that wasn’t quite empty. He opened the back door, and flung it as hard as he could manage with his good arm. Without his other arm to stabilize his body, Milo whirled around from the effort.

“Was that…?”

Milo closed the wooden door behind him with a slam, “Yes, it’s Devil’s Water”

“What? I thought it was alcohol”

“Same difference, different name”

“Where did she get it from?”

“I don’t even know. Maybe she made it herself. But somehow she had at least 3 and a half jars of the stuff”

“Will she be okay?” Lena’s eyes still filled with worry in spite of Milo’s attitude.

“Probably”

“Probably? How can you not want to know for sure?”

Milo turned to look at Lena squarely in the eyes, “You should probably go,” Milo said, “you shouldn’t be seen here, especially not with alcohol out in the open”

Lena took a few seconds, but then nodded.   

“Are you sure you don’t need anything?”

Milo looked over at the pool of vomit and considered for a brief moment asking her to help him clean that up.

“No, that’s fine. I can take care of her. Thank you for the sling,” he said, forcing a smile, “I think it’s going to help my arm out a lot”

Lena took a deep breath and nodded, “Of course; it’s the least I could do”

Milo continued forcing his smile.

With that, she walked over to the door, opened it, and strode out into the howling wind. She had nearly closed the door behind her when she turned around and faced Milo once again.

“Oh, and Milo?”

Milo turned back around, his eyes tired and unfocused.

“I’ll pray for you and your mother tonight”

Milo smiled back at her, “Go ahead and pray for her; you’ll be up all night bargaining”

Cecile awoke to a familiar blurriness; a few blinks later and she knew she’d be able to see again. Her mouth tasted sour and her head was spinning. As she lifted her head, her stomach turned over and she swallowed hard to prevent more vomit from gurgling up to her mouth again. Finally able to glance around her, she quickly realized that it was late evening, and that she was on her side, with covers over her.

How long was I out?

Cecile tried to get up, but her stomach churned more violently again, so she lie back down. However, when she tried to roll over, her hand knocked down the makeshift, wooden table beside her, causing it to crash down with a reverberating, hollow bang.

Within a moment, Milo was by her side, replacing the table back where it was. Cecile reached out for him, but he made little or no attempt to grab her hand.

Milo’s silhouette hovered over her, none of his features were immediately visible, and even when she focused on him, it was still too dark for her to make any out. But she knew it was him.

“Do you need anything?”

At first his voice sounded as if it were coming from a long distance away, but she made out enough of the sentence to make sense of it. His voice was hollow and emotionless.

“I need… I need,” she tried to spit out, but the words came out like whispers. Her throat was far too dry to form a full sentence. But as she tried to clench her stomach to force the words out, it gurgled and suddenly heaved. As Cecile sucked in air from her breath mask and vomited by the shadows of Milo’s feet, she also knew this was just the beginning of a long night.

“A bucket,” Milo replied, “I’ll go grab one”

As Milo’s silhouette shifted and over-stepped the pool of the fluid that was once in her stomach, Cecile tried to reach out for Milo again. But without having complete control over her motor skills, she accidentally hit him in the shoulder.

“I’m hurrying,” Milo said, “I just gotta get past all this puke…”

“No,” Cecile managed to hold her arm out straight, as if trying to get Milo to come hug her, “I’m so- I’m sor-”

“Don’t be,” she heard him say as he walked off. Not long afterwards, everything went blurry again and she laid her head back on hard floor.

When she awoke, it was much brighter in the room. She could lift her head without experiencing the urge to throw up. As she looked around, she saw that Milo had fallen asleep in the corner on a wooden chair. She gazed back at Milo and noticed the cloth sling around his neck, shoulder, and arm. She shuffled on the squeaky floorboards, causing Milo to stir. He shook his head and seemed to notice the sling himself, as if remembering it was there. He squinted, realizing Cecile was looking at the sling.

She saw that Milo couldn’t make out her question. She tried to speak again, “What happened?”

Milo looked at the floor and began to jiggle his leg, “It’s nothing”

She looked at him for an answer, but he did not give it. Her heart sank. Vlad had never done anything like this before. All this was going on yesterday, she realized.

While I was here, drinking like a fish.

Cecile drew her hand to her face to cover up her mouth as she felt tears forming in her eyes. Milo must have seen them because he started making a face. But before he could talk, Cecile spoke out, “No, it’s not just nothing.” Grief wracked her brain. Even as I was here, barely conscious, Milo was a better parent than I am. She started to shudder with silent sobs as she bent over so her head could meet her knees. Levoslav, my beloved, what would you have done?

She felt the floorboards shift as Milo stood up by the chair, “It’s really nothing. I think the bone is healing properly”

As much as she loathed admitting it, even having Milo around reminded her of Levo. As such, a very small part of her – of which she was very ashamed – despised that he was so available.

How much of a crutch Milo was becoming. And what a waste of time it was to take care of her. Who could blame him for leaving me? I’m weak, pathetic, useless. I can’t even take care of my own son, much less keep him from getting his arm broken, or even helping him, cleaning him up after being beaten until his bones were literally broken.

Cecile’s breaths became shallower and she felt herself grow lightheaded.

That’s why Levo left. Her weights became a burden on his shoulders and it was too much for him. I was a terrible wife. Now I’m a terrible mother.

Without thinking any further, she hopped up, wiping her face, and her weak legs collapsed underneath her. Before Milo could catch her, Cecile fell to the floor, a splinter from the floor digging into her left palm. No matter. Milo tried to get underneath her to help her up, but Cecile didn’t focus on him. Instead, she crawled on the floor, her face and eyes scanning wildly.

“Where’s my jar?” 

Milo didn’t answer immediately, but instead meandered out to face her, his hands in his pockets.

“I threw it out”

Cecile felt her eyes open wide as she stumbled closer to him and repeated the question, this time with even more force and space between the words, “Where. Is. My jar.”

Milo’s eyes became slits in his face as he narrowed them and stepped closer to her. His face was very close to hers, so close she could catch a whiff of his morning breath. He pointed out the back door.

“It’s gone! I got rid of it after I prevented you from drowning in a puddle of your own throw up! It’s a damn good thing I did, because you know why? It’s not something the Riv are just going to roll over and stop themselves from seeing!”

Fine.

Before he had finished, Cecile had wandered off to the corner where the spigot was. Milo must have thought she was going to throw up because he didn’t immediately follow. She wasn’t sure what eventually caused him to come after her. No matter. She thrust her hand into a large gap in between the floor boards and yanked it loose. Between the boards lay a small box, which Cecile slowly withdrew.

Redemption is not an option, it never would be. What was the point of trying? Why try to be a good mother when it would never happen? She knew she was a lost cause and might as well humor her addiction.

“By the Riv, you have a stash?”

Milo was finally standing behind her as she took out the box filled to the brim with similar jars of the clear liquid.

“Don’t touch those jars!”

Cecile felt Milo right up behind her as he gripped the box with his good arm, trying to get it from her. At first she was shocked by her son’s strength; it didn’t look like he had it in him. For a while she struggled to retain possession, now the middle of a tug of war match.

If only I can get some of that in me, it’ll all feel better. It’ll all go away.

Cecile gripped even harder, her tensile strength surprising even her. However, the boy, even with one arm, easily out-matched and out-strengthened her, as weak and dehydrated she knew somewhere in her mind that she must be.

If only I can get some of that. I’ll feel all better.

Finally, as the box slowly slipped from her grip, Cecile let Milo have it; or at least she gave him that impression. In his moment of distracted confusion, she lashed out, smacking the boy right across the face. For a moment she relished in her success as she caught the box as it dropped from his other hand. She withdrew a bottle and immediately opened it, gurgling down the warm liquid so fast that some of it dribbled down her face. She remembered when the stuff used to burn on the way down. Right now all that mattered was the chill that went down her spine. The warmth in her stomach. Cecile allowed herself to collapse onto the floor again and sighed.

But then she saw the look on Milo’s face, which was now red and featured a portion of a hand print underneath his eye. His eyes were wide, but not from pain or tears. But from shock. He touched his cheek as if to make sure what had just happened actually occurred.

 “Milo…,” she trailed off. Milo didn’t answer; instead, his face became a scowl as he walked away with very heavy footsteps. Cecile heard the front door open and then quickly slam.

Tears welled up in Cecile’s eyes once again and blurred her vision as she lowered her head towards the floor.  Taking deep breaths, she began sobbing.

I could go after him. I could go find him and apologize. I could help him with his arm. But what would I say? He’s not going to come back. What’s done is already done. I’ve already failed.

So she started hitting the floor. Again and again. So hard until finally several of the boards were spattered with light red. It felt good to feel pain. It was a momentary distraction. As her hands pounded and pulsed in rhythm with her quick heartbeat, she continued sobbing. Finally she looked up to see the bottles. If it was going to be a long night, she might as well not feel a thing in the process.