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"Ah, you didn't really need to piss, did you?"
It was heavy. It hadn't looked heavy. Maybe it was just the shaking that made it seem that way.
"You'll put that down, boy."
Lawrence didn't say anything, just tried again to level it, attempting a sort of shoulder hold. Bobby didn't move, but kept his face stonily placid. The wind carried the acrid scent of urine through the trees as it seeped into the soil.
"It was your fault." It was still hard to speak, even after all of these months the words came out in clumps and tripped on themselves.
"He got into Johnny's dope and he's a klutz sober, bloody idiot." Lawrence stepped closer. Bobby tried to hide it, but flinched back, grimacing.
"You scared him, pointing yours at him like that. He was scared."
"I was only having a lark, he ought to know that! And anyhow you two are meant to be the responsible ones, I'd have kept the map meself if I'd known he was going to give it to Rhys the minute he asked. Hell I'd have just thrown it in the stream and saved us all the trouble!"
Another step. Bobby backpedaled
"Alright, alright. Maybe I was too harsh with him, I'll grant you that. But is that how you want him to die? Scared and bleeding out slow by nightfall with only Johnny and Rhys around? Maybe you, if you can even find your way back. You lot aren't getting out of here on your own you know."
There wasn't real concern in his voice, but the syrupy-thick attempt was close enough to send thoughts rattling. The rifle barrel pitched down sharply with a shudder. Lawrence tried to correct it back upwards, though it was clearly off-kilter now. They both knew it.
"Look, Lawrie, I did wrong, alright?" It was soft. A soft name a soft voice, a soft look. "And now, so have you. We all make our mistakes, yeah?"
Tears were streaming down Lawrence's face, dribbling and puddling, with saliva flowing out on one side from the strain, raining pitterpats onto the soil below.
Leaves crunched as Bobby slowly stepped back. "We'll call evens, alright?"
Lawrence didn't move, but the gun kept shaking.
"Probably owe you a little more. For, you know. Your face."
"Like after..." The words wouldn't come, couldn't yet flow around the puffy scarring. "The.. Grill."
Bobby saw an in. "Yes, just like that! We've got to make things right. Even, like king Solomon says."
"What about Rhys? That was four times." Lawrence querried reproachfully
"Once was Janis, and once was Les." Bobby chastised "Hell, once was his own damn fault, nobody made him climb up the roof. Stars my back-end, he saw stars alright."
"You dropped him though, after that fight. I saw."
"It was an accident. They happen."
Lawrence suddenly stood straighter, bolstering up into proper aim. "Johnny's wasn't."
"I lost my temper, he got the bike. These things work themselves out, you'll see. Just put that down". Bobby raised his hands to a pose of mock surrender. "And really, how do you think this is going to go? Really? You'll probably miss, but let's say you don't."
It was so heavy.
"The police, the questions. Johnny and Frankie with the drugs. Rhys at the police station, scared. He's bound to talk."
"I'll tell them what you did! Everything!"
"No-ones going to believe you, not after something like that."
The yellow leaves on the ground sat like a thousand waiting little canvases. How many shots could ever be an accident? How many were even left?
"And think about walking back to them like that." Bobby continued. "There'll be stinking blood all on your boots. On your sweater, tangled in your hair. You want them to see you like that? Their sweet brother gone loony in the woods?"
One shot. It had to be one. One. One. One.
"And think about poor Errol and your mum afterwards... Do you think that'll be an accident? Les is bound to come to the funeral and you know how she gets..."
Tears and adrenaline clogged Lawrie's eyes and throat, sending the world around into a haze and the ground closer.
Bobby reached down and took the rifle barrel gingerly, meeting only the limpest resistance. He pulled the gun out of her hands with a firm tug, then quickly toggled the safety.
"Sometimes we cock up, mate. Sure it won't be your last time." Bobby zipped his fly up with trembling hands as he walked briskly back to the path.
The little golden leaves offered their condolences, sticking themselves to cardigan wool and flowing hair, soaking up sick with their paper bodies.
"Get up." He stopped, but didn't turn as she pulled herself slowly upright in a snotty deciduous mess.
"Not one word, here or at hospital. Frankie was mucking about and dropped his rifle and we lost the trail for a minute." The shambling mess of salt-clinging leaves and dirt stood just in his periphery, sniffling at his elbow.
"And you fell."
---
A few weeks later Bobby stood with his brood at the ice cream truck, Frodo wobbling on his crutches as he looked over the menu. Rhys and Johnny had made their selections and were now trying to hurry him along. Bobby swatted them away as he stepped forward, lifting Errol up to see his choices.
"You two give your cousin some room, you'll trip him up for Christ sakes."
"I only fell twice! Well, today anyway. I'm getting better at them, really!"
"That's the can-do Oades spirit! Now hurry up and pick your poison, go on. You too Lawrie." He reached around and pushed her forward by the shoulder.
"Yes lads, it's a day worth celebrating I think; A day like this full of health and recovery ought to be honored with exuberism and a little treat for you all!"
He adjusted Errol in his arms and gave Lawrence a firmer shove towards the head of the gaggle, sending her stumbling a bit against Johnny and Frodo. He yelped and wobbled awkwardly as Rhys tried clumsily to steady him.
"Just don't tell your mum."