Crash

Cold Shower

When Penelope pulled up in front of her place, she found Frankie sprawled on the front lawn, giggling to himself about the sprinklers. 

"Frankie," she yelled, rushing to him. "Hey, come on. You hear me?"

"Nell!" he slurred. "I missed you. So much."

"You gotta get up Frankie," she told him, looping his arm across her shoulders and trying to move him from the grass. "Please do this for me."

"I wanna stay here, Nell. That would be nice."

"Frankie, please." She turned towards the house, screaming as loud as she could. "Jane!" she yelled, voice cracking. "Jane!"

A light came on on the second floor. A minute later, the door burst open, revealing Jane in her pyjamas, looking confused. It wasn't until her eyes landed on the grass that she seemed to understand what was going on. 

"Oh god," she said, running to Penelope's side. "What did he take?"

"I don't know, Janie. I need to get him in the house. Help me lift him?"

Together, Jane and Penelope balanced Frankie's weight between them, taking one heavy step at at time. Frankie drifted in and out of consciousness, and every time he closed his eyes Penelope felt her heart jolt. The three of them collapsed by the door, Frankie letting out a hazy laugh. 

"We need to put him in the shower," Penelope ordered, starting to pull her brother along the floor and towards the bathroom. "Take his feet."

"Penelope," Jane said gently, reaching out to place a hand on her arm. "I think we should call someone. Your brothers-"

"They already know," she snapped. She didn't mean to loose her temper, but this wasn't the first time she'd done this. Penelope had been bailing Frankie out for years. This was nothing new. "Joe is on his way. I just need to get him in the shower. You gonna help me or not?"

Jane pursed her lips, but she did as she was told. They dragged Frankie down the corridor towards the bathroom, ignoring his groans of protest as they went. It took them a minute, but they managed to get him propped up against the wall of the shower, his head resting against the tiles. 

"It's okay, Frankie," Penelope soothed, reaching up and switching on the water. It poured over him as he moaned, using one limp hand to try and wipe the water from his eyes. Penelope sat on the floor beside him, her clothes soaking, but she didn't notice. "It's okay."

"What's happening?" he complained, attempting to stand. Penelope's hands shot out and held him there, her nails digging into his skin. "Ow! That hurts."

"You have to sit still," she told him. "Please just do this for me. Joe's gonna be here soon, okay. He's gonna make everything better. Joe's gonna make everything better."

Some part of her brother seemed to listen. He sat still, the water pooling around him, his eyes closed. Penelope stroked his hair, brushing it from his eyes as he whimpered. It wasn't until ten minutes later that Joe finally arrived. 

"Penelope," Jane said from the door, her tone anxious. "Joe's here."

"Fuck's sake," Joe cursed as he walked through the bathroom door. His hair was a mess and he was wearing a T-shirt that looked like it'd seen much better days. His expression was stony, but when he looked at Penelope, a sodden heap on the floor, his eyes softened. 

"I didn't know what to do," she said quietly, suddenly reduced to the little girl who'd once followed her big brother's every move. "So I put him in the shower."

Joe ran a hand through his hair, sighing deeply. "Okay. Get him a towel, he can sleep on the sofa and I'll stay with him. We'll deal with it in the morning."

***************

It didn't take Frankie long to fall asleep. Soon, he was snoring on the couch, his chest gradually rising and falling. Jane had wrapped a towel around Penelope's shoulders to keep her warm, but despite that she was still shivering. 

Joe checked Frankie one more time before pulling his sister into a tight hug. She felt defeated, like all the wind has been knocked out of her. "I'll call the centre in the morning," Joe told her, kissing her forehead. "Go to bed. It's late and you have work."

She nodded, hoping he couldn't see the tears brimming in her eyes. "Don't tell Abuela. Not until he's better."

"Alright. Come on, it'll be okay. I promise."

As much as Penelope wanted to believe him, she knew better. Her life was full of empty promises, and this one was just another to add to the pile, broken and stomped on again and again and again.

**************

Penelope tossed and turned for what felt like hours. It was as though she had passed the point of exhaustion and her sleep centre had simply given up. It didn't help that every now and then she would hear drifts of Joe's voice talking on the phone, though it was too low volume to make out the words. 

Eventually, she decided to try and occupy her mind with something else in the hopes that maybe she could blindside sleep and trick her mind into slumber. She rolled over to her bedside table, reaching for her phone and scrolling through her notifications. 

"Great," she muttered to herself, noting the fact that it was already 4am. Just as she was about to sink into an even deeper pit of despair, her eyes fell on a notification that made her heart skip a beat. 

It was a simple message, brief and plain, but it was enough. "Hope you're okay," the text from Charles read, sent not long after she'd fled the restaurant. Penelope collapsed back onto her pillows, hugging her phone to her chest like she was a teenage girl being wooed by her first crush. 

Penelope lost count of the number of draft messages she tried to type out in reply. She couldn't find the right words to encompass the emotions she was feeling. She glanced at the clock again - 4:15am now - before cycling through her options once more. 

She hit the call button. 

The logical part of her figured he wouldn't answer. It was ridiculously late. No one in their right mind would be sitting by the phone, eagerly waiting for the girl who'd ghosted them that very same night. But the emotional part of her? Well, that part was willing him to pick up with every fibre of her being. 

Turns out, she was in luck. "Hello?" a groggy voice answered on the last ring, laden with sleep. "Who died?"

Penelope fought back a smile. "Hey, you. It's me. I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

The tone of his voice shifted when he heard her, suddenly lighter, more awake. "Hey! I mean, uh, hey. How are you?"

"I'm good. Better now, actually. Look, I just wanted to say sorry about earlier. It was a family thing, it couldn't wait."

"It's fine, honestly. I would have done the same thing. Is everything okay now?"

"Um...yeah. I mean, well, no. Not really. But it's fine."

Charles's voice softened again. "You don't have to tell me what happened, but if you want to talk about it...I'll always listen."

Penelope closed her eyes. And for the first time today, she finally let herself cry. "My, um, brother...he has a tendency to make bad decisions. He trusts me, so when he falls off the wagon...he tends to end up outside my door."

"I'm sorry," Charles murmured. "That can't be easy."

"No," she agreed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "It's not. Charles, I...I know that it's late, and you have a plane to catch and probably much better uses of your time...but will you just stay on the line with me? Don't hang up."

"Okay. I'm here. I promise."

******************