“I’ll need you to help me walk to the car.”
“You want me to roll you out in the pastor’s big leather office chair?” I asked. “’Cause I can’t lift your ass.”
He laughed at that.
“I’m so tired.” He sat up like a teddy bear, legs outstretched, staring at his shoes but making no move to reach for them.
I crawled over and slipped a sock on one of his bare feet, and then his shoe, tucking the laces in so he wouldn’t trip. He moved his other foot closer, so I did that one too. It was like dressing a big, sad marionette—one whose strings had been cut at the whim of a trickster god.
I got to my feet and held my hand out.
Maisy gave a suspicious bark but she didn’t charge. I lifted him carefully to his feet. He was huge. If he’d been unconscious, it would have taken three guys to carry him.
I sort of propped him up so he wouldn’t fall as I leaned over to pick up his pack. He tried to grab it from me but missed.
“I’ll carry—”
“Shh. Dizzy.” For a second he leaned against the door. I didn’t give him a choice. I carried his pack.
“You okay?” I asked.
“I will be. Give me a sec.”
I draped his arm over my shoulder. “Take your time. Lean on me.”
He breathed in and out audibly. “You don’t know what it’s like.”
“No. I don’t.”
“I pissed myself.”
The words felt booby-trapped. “So?”
“So you think I’ll ever live that down with those—those—”
“You think those kids out there will care about this next week? That they’ll even remember it? As soon as Kim Kardashian posts another selfie, no one will even remember. You’re not big news, bubba. I hate to tell you.”
“They were laughing at me.” Rock’s naked pain made everything worse. “Taking pictures. Every time they see me I’ll be the guy who pissed himself. How would you like that?”
“My friend ’Nando says pissing yourself with fear is very freeing.”
“He did not.” Rock opened his eyes fully to glare at me.
“You calling me a liar?”
“What kind of saying is that? It’s grim. It’s like saying you’re not a man until someone kicks your balls out through your nose.”
I grimaced at the image. “I think what he meant was that you don’t learn who you are if things are too easy.”
“I know who I am.” His huff of laughter sounded strained. “The problem is everyone wants me to be someone else.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You and me both.”
As we exited, he lurched a little drunkenly. Elena shot me a wan smile. The Deputy left last, after the EMTs, after the late-arriving parents finally came for their kids.
We were the last ones left, standing in the parking lot with the pastor and his wife.
