Page 43 of Payback On The Ice

A pause. Then: "I know. Nobody else would knock."

He's sitting on the edge of the bed in the dark. I turn the desk lamp on. He squints at it. He's got his hoodie off and his T-shirt pulled up on one side, and there's an elastic wrap around his ribs, and under the edge of it, spreading out across his side, there's a bruise the size of my hand. Purple going to black in the middle.

My stomach turns over.

"Ice," I say. I hold out the peas.

He looks at them.

"Those are peas."

"They're cold."

"They're from like 2019, man, look at the bag, they've got freezer burn⁠—"

"Take the peas, Theo."

He takes the peas. He puts them against his side and his whole face crumples and then smooths out, and he lets out a long breath.

I hold out the pills. He takes those too. Four. Swallows them dry before I can give him the water, and then takes the water anyway.

On the desk behind him, face down, there's a lanyard. A plastic badge on the end of it. I don't turn it over.

"So," he says. "Is this the part where you say sorry?"

I don't say anything.

"No?" He drinks more water. "Okay. Cool. Just checking. Didn't want to miss it."

"I talked to Gunnar."

"Great. What'd Gunnar say?"

"He said I told the room nobody helps you." My voice comes out flat. "He's right. I did."

He looks up at me then. Over the glass. The lamp makes his eyes very blue.

"And you stood there," he says.

"Yes."

"You watched."

"Yes."

He puts the glass down on the floor, slow, so he doesn't have to twist.

"I don't need you to tell me why," he says quietly. "I know why. I know exactly why. It was a pile in the corner and a guy who couldn't get up, and you stood there and watched, and you thought, now he knows."

My throat won't work.

"Right?"

"Yes."

He nods. He looks down at the bag of peas against his side.

"Okay," he says. "So here's the thing."