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morning, bri!
as it comes through the front door roger's voice perfectly complements the sunshine streaming in through brian’s windows: cheery, warm, full of vitality, and brian is anything but. he thinks that is an interesting juxtaposition and he thinks about what a good scrabble word juxtaposition would be because j is eight points and x is ten and if you played it right you could use all seven letters but that would need some pretty extreme circumstances however just the word itself would be pretty good and
hello, earth to brian! you alright today?
roger is in front of him, beautiful and brilliant. good morning, rog, he answers. yeah, i'm alright.
good, comes that pleased smile. have you taken your meds yet? it is his day to take care of brian, make sure he doesn't go too stir crazy, and it is not a responsibility he takes lightly.
it is with surface level remorse that brian manages a no, sorry, but roger gives him that soft understanding look that everyone seems to have been practicing while brian was on the operating table having his insides sewn back together and says it's okay, he'll go get them, and water too. and then he's gone again.
juxtaposition, buzzes his mind. eight plus one plus ten plus one plus one plus three plus one plus one pl
there is a glass in one of brian's hands and an assortment of pills in the other and it takes him a moment to realize that roger is also in front of him again and these things have not appeared out of nowhere. he sits down next to brian and watches him take the pills because if brian were to put medicine in his mouth and then excuse himself to the bathroom to spit it out it would not be the first time.
antibiotic is fourteen points. painkiller is sixteen points. antiemetic is fourteen points. water is eight points. the list of things brian has been able to keep down in the past three days or four maybe sums to fifty two scrabble points.
maybe the surgery didn't work, suggests his brain. maybe they're only doing all this to give you some false hope before you die and they just sent you home because you're unfixable. if unfixable were a valid scrabble word it would be worth twenty one points.
have you at least eaten anything? roger asks.
easy lie. yep. brian’s been getting away with that one for years.
there's that beam back. good! i'm really proud of you for that, bri.
and for a moment, brian feels a twinge of guilt for lying to him, but it doesn't stick around for too long. brian might be telling him he feels fine but roger is telling him back that he looks fine and brian knows that is as much of a lie as the first. he's seen himself in the mirror and that is why he generally avoids it. brian supposes he can't be too upset; it can't be easy for roger and the rest of them either. they've seen him languid and they've seen him enraged but they've never seen anything as soul-sucking as this. and the worst part is, brian doesn't have the energy to put up much of a front anymore.
i guess the only chore we have left is to change the bandages, then, roger says. his voice is so kind even though he's been assigned to something so unpleasant, and brian supposes he feels kind of sorry for roger too. bandages is twelve points but if you used all seven tiles it would add fifty and unpleasant is twelve too but if someone had already played ant you could use all seven tiles there as well.
roger gets up to go get the medical supplies but brian can't let him do that. actually, i was thinking maybe we could play scrabble? he suggests, before roger can get very far.
he grins. roger takes his responsibilities more seriously than most would think, but he's never one to turn down a good game. that sounds much more fun, he replies. i'll get that first instead.
somehow brian still does not feel fulfilled when roger sits opposite him on the sofa with the box. fulfilled, sixteen points. the game will be fun, sure, and brian is glad that roger is here to play it with him, but it doesn't feel like this fleeting happiness will touch the hollowed out emptiness that brian thinks maybe the surgeons have replaced his insides with. hollowed, fifteen points. fleeting, twelve.
roger takes a breath. brian, he starts, and it sounds like his voice gets caught in his throat. he starts again. brian, i understand you're recovering, and it takes a long time, but… are you sure you're doing okay?
that was only a matter of sooner or later, he supposes.
maybe if brian is going to keep taking his life as seriously as a game then he can start playing it like one too. his choices flash through his mind like options on a game show.
- no
- no
- no please for the love of god help me
- yes
the crowd is captivated, breathless, and brian's number four answer is highlighted on the tv screen. yes, he says. the audience murmurs and strains their eyes for the big reveal,
and roger's eyes stay sad but after a moment his mouth says alright and he opens up the scrabble box and the crowd roars and the television host claps brian heartily on the shoulder. then let's play some scrabble, huh? maybe that'll lift your spirits.
i’ve been looking forward to it all day, says brian as he reaches into the bag to pick his tiles.