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It hadn't been a good day to start with.
"Why do you let him get to you like that?" asked Toni, handing him another glass of wine.
Stomach problems. Toni up his ass about this and that. Myriad financial issues looming in from seemingly every corner. He had almost been looking forward to the recording. At least his scuffles with Gregg were familiar territory.
“I don’t let him get to me,” said Tim into his glass with some annoyance. It was unnecessary to ask who she was referring to.
“Oh, come on Tim. You’ve been sulking in that arm chair ever since you got home,” Toni giggled, taking a delicate sip from her own glass.
It was extra annoying because he had let Gregg get to him. He absolutely had. The little fight on set had been the opposite of cathartic. It wasn’t as much what had been said, but the look that Gregg had given him afterwards. He could still see it when he closed his eyes.
Some would say that Gregg Turkington was not a very emotive person, but Tim would emphatically disagree. If you knew what to look for, the man practically wore his heart on his sleeve. And Tim was unfortunately in the unique position of being able to decipher the levels of Gregg’s annoyance with practiced ease.
Tim had tried for one last parting shot after the recording ended. He couldn’t remember exactly what it was about. Something about Mark maybe. But Gregg hadn’t risen to the barb like Tim wanted him to, he’d just looked at him and pursed his mouth slightly. It wasn’t his normal look of exasperation, which sometimes held a hidden note of fondness to the trained eye.
He’d looked at Tim like he was worthless. Like Tim was the pathetic one. And then he’d walked away. Tim couldn’t stop turning the expression around in his mind, unable to rid himself of Gregg’s disapproving gaze even hours later.
Toni was still looking at him expectantly.
“I’m not sulking,” he said finally, sulking even harder. He didn’t want to look directly at Toni so he stared into his wine instead. They’d been drinking steadily since he’d gotten home but it hadn’t done much to improve his mood.
"I guess I just don’t get it!,” said Toni, raising up her free hand in a ‘it’s none of my business’ sort of shrug. She paused briefly to have another sip of wine and Tim hoped that would be the end of it. Of course he had no such luck.
“It’s just that, you’re like, this whole person! And he's just some–,” Toni paused here and gestured with her glass, trying to find the words. “Some sad, friendless loser!” She finished, looking annoyed that she had to say it so directly.
"He does know a lot about movies." Tim didn't know why he was defending him. Maybe it was less about defending Gregg, and more defending the part of himself that still kept Gregg around.
Toni gave him a strange look. Something ugly was burning up in his stomach. It wasn't his fault that Gregg continued to orbit him like some sickly planet. Oscillating closer and further in its revolution but never fully out of sight. Seemingly incapable of being severed from Tim’s gravitational pull, despite his recent efforts. And was it really so wrong to chart your life by the only thing that stayed consistent relative to yourself? Even if that thing happened to be an utterly pathetic “movie expert”?
To be honest, Tim didn’t know.
“It’s just, when I saw him at the town hall. The way you reacted to him– I’d never seen you like that before! I would’ve never thought you were friends, let alone that you were going to keep doing that movie review show with him!” Toni was getting more animated now. Tim was having a harder time avoiding her eyes. She usually knew when to drop this line of questioning, but she seemed to be getting more worked up the more she spoke. He didn’t want to have this conversation right now. Truthfully, he didn’t want to have this conversation ever.
“When we first met, it was so wonderful having all your attention. But then I find out– all this stuff about Ayaka, about Gregg , and I–”
"I told you! I've been very honest– extremely honest about Ayaka–"
"But you aren't still with Ayaka!" interrupted Toni loudly.
Tim stilled instantly. "What are you trying to say?"
"The way you talk about Gregg is just– it's obsessive! And it's all the time . It's insane, Tim! It's not normal! And if you’re not talking about him, you’re tweeting at him!" Toni’s eyes were wild, desperate. She’d already said too much, but it was too late to take it back.
"He's– he's my employee, it’s my responsibility to make sure he stays in line!" said Tim weakly. He gripped the wine glass like a protective icon. He felt trapped by the leather arm chair. It was getting hard to breathe.
Toni towered over him, her wine glass taking on a scepter-like quality. She had stopped drinking from it and her face was regaining some of its earlier calm.
She let him sit with his hollow protest for a moment before opening her mouth again.
"Tim,” she began, slowly, carefully, like she was talking to a rabid animal. “Did you know that you call out his name in your sleep?"
Time ground to a sudden halt. Tim thought his heart might have actually stopped. When he could finally speak, it came out garbled, as if he were speaking around a stab wound.
"What?! You’ve never said–! I don't–!" It was all he could do to choke out a response. Toni’s eyes narrowed. Silence stretched between them to fill the stopped time. Tim was sweating now. The world seemed to contract until all Tim could see were Toni's eyes. They looked cold and imperious through her lenses.
“Did you ever fuck Gregg?” asked Toni abruptly. A second knife driven in right after the first. Her voice sounded several decibels louder. Loud enough that Tim imagined that Matt could hear her, even upstairs through his closed bedroom door.
“Did I ever–?” Tim repeated, spluttering and coughing on his own spit. Toni crossed her arms, holding her wineglass up to her cheek with an evaluating expression. He could sense something intangible slipping away under her gaze and felt afraid.
It occurred to Tim through his panic that this would be the time to get angry. Cause a scene, smash the glass, throw the accusation back in her face with a laugh. Looking back into Toni's eyes, it almost felt like that was exactly what she was waiting for. Hoping for, even.
An uncompromising denial. An angry outburst. Her eyes flicked down to his hands, which were clutching the wine glass in a white knuckled grip, and then back up to his face.
But he couldn’t do it. Untruths that usually came so easily to him stuck in his throat. He scrambled ungracefully to free himself from the armchair, spilling a bit of wine on his new dress shirt.
He took a few steps backwards unsteadily. His mouth kept opening and closing again like a dying fish. He wandered all the way from the chair to the front door, still looking back at her, unable to summon a single word to say in his own defense. Toni said nothing at all, just watched him go with her lips pursed into a thin, uncompromising line. After he had gotten enough distance, he finally turned tail and fled out the door.
And then he was outside. Alone. Still holding the wine glass. He waited a few minutes to see if Toni would come after him, but the house was silent. He hadn’t even taken his keys.
The worst part was, he still was thinking about Gregg. Toni’s expression reminded him so much of the look Gregg had given him earlier that it made him feel dizzy.
He couldn’t even sit in Toni’s car without the keys, so he stalked aimlessly around the neighborhood. He checked his phone intermittently to see if had any messages from Toni asking him to come home. Or an apology from Gregg, perhaps with a follow up begging to keep him on the show. But there was nothing. So he kept walking.
There were no stars to be seen in the light polluted sky. But that had never bothered Tim. He imagined a brilliant flash of light suddenly appearing on the horizon, a surprise attack obliterating both him and the neighborhood into nothingness, and thought that might be okay. But the sky was as silent as his phone.
After an hour of wandering he found himself standing in front of the house again. The windows were dark. He tried the door and felt immense, soul crushing relief upon finding it was unlocked. The feeling was so all-encompassing that it almost sent him to his knees. He wasn’t out. He hadn’t fucked up irreparably. He could still fix this.
He quietly climbed the stairs and crept past Matt’s door to the master bedroom. The lights were off and he could just barely make out Toni’s still form under the comforter. He crawled into bed next to her and she reached out and gently touched his chest with her hand, as if confirming he was still alive. Seemingly satisfied, she rolled back over and faced the wall. Tim felt another knot of dread unwind itself in his stomach.
But despite this, he still couldn’t get to sleep. He took his phone out again and checked social media. Nothing good. He closed it again. He shifted in bed for awhile, trying to get comfortable, eliciting an annoyed groan from the still-sleeping Toni. It was past three in the morning.
Finally, against his best judgment, he texted Gregg.
No classic movie time next week either BTW.
When he received the response, only a moment later, he wanted to break his phone in half.
We’ll see! Getting many Cards and letters asking for it instead of gun nuts or terrible “”D4KR””
Halfway through typing an angry reply, Gregg sent another message.
Are you Okay?
It briefly short-circuited Tim’s brain. Was he okay? Of course he was okay. If anything, Gregg was the one who wasn’t okay, awake at 3:30 in the morning probably watching movies in a parking lot somewhere. His phone buzzed again.
Do you want to come by and watch a movie?
Several names of movies, along with their run times, followed in individual messages. God, even the way Gregg texted was obnoxious. And what, did he want Tim to come by and hang out in his car? The absurdity made Tim smile despite himself. He quickly fired off a response.
Fuck off.
There was no reply for several minutes, but that was fine. Tim was ready to sleep now. Just as he drifted off, his phone buzzed again
Good night.
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The first few days Tim lived in Gregg's apartment again, he barely existed at all. The soothing procession of Christmas movies and Gregg's ever present monologue of film facts lulled him into an almost catatonic state. He would’ve never thought he'd find the sound of Gregg's voice comforting, but after two weeks alone in the hospital, just being near someone else was a blessing.
Bit by bit, he started to come back to himself. He started actually watching the movies, enjoying them, even. He chewed popcorn on the tiny futon, ate the food Gregg would set in front of him. Once a week, Gregg would buy them takeout with his AMC paychecks. Nothing fancy, never Carabbas, but just being able to put warm food in his belly felt like a small miracle. Tim wondered if Gregg ate food this regularly when he was alone. He had been getting the impression in recent years that popcorn was subsuming more and more of the man's diet.
Sometimes Tim would cry. It would be at strange things, too. Scenes in movies that shouldn’t hold any meaning to him. Certain foods, even scents. At random moments he would be overwhelmed with the feeling that the entire life he had lived up to this point belonged to a different person. Someone he didn’t particularly like, or even understand.
Gregg reacted the same as he always had, initially. Staring at Tim with those big blue eyes, looking uncomfortable. But after the first few times, Tim would feel him shift slightly and put a hand on his back, rubbing small circles there. He would never say anything, never comment on it, but that suited Tim just fine. He didn’t even know what he would say.
At night, when he got too tired to hold his eyes open, he would tug slightly on Gregg's sleeve. He would stand and watch uselessly as Gregg quietly set up the futon each night. He slept on the futon uneventfully for the first week. He’d fall asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, like an exhausted child. The doctors had told him he’d need more rest than usual even after he was discharged.
But his sleep turned restless again, as it always did eventually. He'd toss and turn under the thin blanket, unable to sleep in the silence of the empty living room. Eventually he would get up and stand in front of the closed door to Gregg's bedroom, just listening. Gregg snored a bit now. He hadn't done that the last time they lived together.
On the fifth night of standing in front of Gregg's door, he summoned the courage to try the handle. The sickening sense of relief upon feeling it turn in his hand was both painful and familiar.
The first time Tim crawled into Gregg's bed, Gregg tensed up completely, like someone finding a poisonous snake slithering among their sheets.
"I'm not trading with you," Gregg mumbled sleepily, voice tinged with tension and something else Tim couldn't place.
"'S okay," said Tim, wrapping his arms around him.
Gregg simply sighed and closed his eyes again.
"Good night," said Tim, voice sounding small in the dark.
Gregg didn't say it back, but he didn't make him leave either. And that was enough for now.