Percussive Maintenance

Excerpt:
The door closed behind Sully so hard it bounced open again. Denny didn’t yell after him; he'd done enough yelling. He shouldered his bag and grabbed his crutches. He shouldn’t have been standing up without them but he’d forgotten in the heat of the moment.

By the time he made it outside, Sully was in his truck, pulling out of their driveway. Denny’s driveway. The condo was in Denny’s name and, if things kept up, he’d be alone in it. He couldn’t even feel sorry about that. His right leg throbbed, so he managed to sit himself down on the front steps, watching Sully drive away.

Denny caught a look at Sully’s handsome face, tight and angry and half-hidden by sunglasses, and at the toss of his dark red hair as he backed out and took off for work. Denny’s heart clenched up tight and his stomach felt sick. He wanted Sully to go. Better than him being stuck here.

The air was clear and the sky was high and blue. The wind was pulling at Denny’s too-long hair, tugging it around and yanking at his clothes. He could see all the way down to where Sully’s black truck was turning the corner. Still, Denny felt like invisible walls were pushing in on him.

Denny hugged himself to stop from breathing so hard, told himself to cut it the fuck out. He was worse than useless. He couldn't drive or hardly walk. He looked like shit, getting old and fat and ugly and not even twenty-five. He was a no-good kid from a nothing trailer park in the middle of nowhere. Only a high school diploma and no hope of getting a job except mopping floors or serving fries. If Sully left, he'd lose his house.

Denny's palms were slick and something heavy was crushing his chest. Maybe it was a heart attack or a blood clot from his leg. He didn't care. He wasn't scared. He was just torn between wanting it to be real so he wasn't crazy and wanting it in his head so he wouldn't run up no more medical bills to worry Sully. If it killed him, it wouldn't be so bad. Denny could hope for that.

His sight was blurred; a yellow blob that must have been his cab pulled up. Denny gulped in air and struggled to his feet. Physical therapy now. He didn't want to go. It was expensive, even with insurance. A waste. Sully didn't see it like that, though. Until Sully got smart and left, Denny had to drag himself in and go through the pain, because there was a chance he'd drive some day.

Denny made it into the cab and tried not to shake. He wished life would hurry up and finish things. Used to be, there wasn’t nothing he couldn't tackle. He remembered the exact moment he knew he was wrong and he wished things had stopped right there.