Chapter 25 #2
“Dean,” Eli says in a clear, calm, steady voice, “I know you can hear me. It’s Eli.
You’re having a flashback. What you’re seeing right now isn’t really happening.
” He kneels about a foot away from him. “I wasn’t there that night, was I?
And you can hear me. You’re safe, frère.
Leo's got you. I'm here. Emily's here. You're in the parlour, and you're safe. It’s not real, what you’re seeing right now. It's a memory being replayed, like Gabriel says. I promise you, it’s not real. I’m here. We’re all here. You made it out. You survived. He’s gone.
” He turns to me. “There’s a bottle of perfume in the top left hand drawer in my room, chere. Please could you go get it?”
I nod numbly, glad for something to do. The man with the almost finished tattoo asks me what’s going on, and I don’t know what to tell him, so I just say, “Nothing to worry about, just another staff member needs help with something. Please, stay here until Eli comes back.” I hope he listens to me.
I know I probably don’t sound that reassuring, likely quite the opposite, but I just don’t know what else to say.
Sure enough there’s a bottle of that perfume where Eli said it would be, around half full. I grab it and bring it back straight away, shaking a little myself as I hand it over.
“They fixed your throat. It’s not bleeding.
You can breathe. He's not here, he's gone. You’re safe, and we love you.” His voice is low and soothing, and though it’s clear from Dean’s eyes that he’s not fully in the here and now, and is seeing terrible things that no-one else can see, he’s not fighting against Leo so hard anymore. He's listening as best he can.
Eli squirts a few puffs of the scent into the air, near Dean, but not right in his face.
“I just sprayed some of your mom’s perfume,” he says gently.
“You’ll be able to smell it in a moment.
” He watches Dean carefully. Dean’s face freezes when the scent reaches him.
..and finally, mercifully, he relaxes. “Let him go,” Eli says to Leo, who gently, slowly complies, watching carefully and ready to go again if need be.
Leo looks pretty shaken up himself, but his focus is entirely on his cousin as he catches his breath.
My heart is in my throat, but Dean doesn't struggle anymore. He just...breathes, and stares, and stays lying on the ground, slumped and bewildered, trembling in a way that makes me want to cry.
I've never asked anyone for details of what happened to Dean at the Nolan High shooting.
Partially because I haven't wanted to hear it.
I knew it must be truly terrible. But seeing him having a flashback episode really brings it home.
Just watching it was terrifying. Living through it…
and then living it again as a waking nightmare…
My friend, my Dean, who's always ready with a smile and treats people so kindly and talked me out of my problems, is suffering.
He needs us to rally around him. I understand now; he lives with the equivalent of a hand around his throat, and it sometimes squeezes its grip, without warning, and chokes him.
I've seen him pale with tiredness sometimes, so I understood that he was still affected by what happened.
And that was bad enough. This, though...
this is in another league. And all I can feel for him is admiration.
Carrying on with life, knowing this could happen at any moment?
That takes strength the likes of which I've never seen.
It makes my own issues seem like small fry.
A tear slips down my face, and I discreetly dash it away. He doesn't need to see this.
"I'm going to help you up, OK?" Eli says to Dean.
Eli has remained calm and steady throughout.
I'm sad for both of them that this is a regular thing.
And I feel my heart swell with even more love for my boyfriend.
For his gentleness and how solid he is, and how kind.
Dean manages to nod, one small, jerky inclination of his chin, and Eli steadies him as they both slowly, carefully stand.
Dean has gone a horrible waxy colour, and he's still sweating.
"Need to throw up?" Eli asks him. Dean shrugs.
"That's OK. We're going to go back to your room, and we're going to watch an episode of Friends on your iPad.
How about The One With All the Resolutions, sound good?
And everything's going to calm down for you. OK?"
Dean nods dully, and seems to be absent-mindedly wiping at the front of his shirt.
I’m not sure he realises he’s doing it, but Eli notices.
“It’s OK. You’ve got a change of clothes in your cupboard.
Let’s go get ’em, yeah?” He turns to Leo but doesn’t take his eyes off Dean.
“Leo, cover for me with my client?” Leo nods, not as winded as he was, but still on high alert.
Eli’s focus is entirely on Dean, who is still holding himself rigidly and fidgeting with his clothes as they slowly make their way back to the studios.
Leo sighs and runs a hand over his face, looking done in. “That motherfucking song,” he mutters as he looks up at me.
“Huh?” I'm trembling and can’t really think straight, too worried about my friend to understand what Leo is talking about.
He moves towards the counter, stretching his neck slightly and rubbing the scar on his eyebrow.
“That car that drove by. Sheer chance, but…” He braces his hands on the counter.
“The Power of Love was playing when his teacher opened fire at his Prom. Dean’s girlfriend was one of the first ones to get shot.
Died in his arms right there on the dance floor, and that god damn song just kept playing.
That’s why he was pulling at his clothes. He thinks her blood is on him again.”
Oh my god… I can’t bear to think of it. Leo walks round and puts his arms around me, seeking comfort for himself as much as offering it to me.
“I know, honey,” he says quietly. “It’s scary, especially the first time you see it.
” He stiffens. “Shit, I just got back in time. If you had been alone on reception when that happened…Christ on a cracker.”
“Poor guy,” I say sadly.
“He’ll be OK,” he promises me. “Eli knows the drill. There’s a tried and true sequence that helps return him back to the here and now.
Dean will be fine." Sounds again like he's reassuring himself as much as me. "I’ll tape up the window in a moment. Get it replaced this week. Does he have any clients booked for the afternoon?”
I glance at the calendar. “Yes, one at three o’clock.”
“Call them and rebook. If they kick up rough, give me a shout.” He sighs.
"Now you know why we're so careful with the team Spotify account.
Some songs just...do that." Looking tired out, he walks back to Eli’s studio to take care of the client, who by now must be wondering what the hell is going on.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, without further ado, I pick up the phone and call Dean’s last client of the day. They can be annoyed all they like; I’m part of this family now, and I will speak to aggy people if my family needs me to, however uncomfortable it makes me.