Page 19 of Finding Basil (Foggy Basin Season Two)

Chapter Twelve

Basil stayed and walked to Herb’s house with him. They cleaned a little in the kitchen and he helped Herb make phone calls to the various contractors, who were surprised he already needed them again.

While Herb was washing the walls of the soot, Basil went upstairs to rinse out their buckets. The kitchen water was shut off while they waited for the insurance to take bids from the contractors.

When he was finished filling the bucket, he shut off the water and heard a creaking from above him. He listened, hearing the creaking move from east to west, along the top of the ceiling over him.

He was about to call Herb when it stopped, and he got a chill down his spine. Oh, he didn’t think it was a ghost. Of course it wasn’t, but still, it was something.

From room to room, Basil searched until the last bedroom down the hall, where he saw the closet door was wide open. As he neared it, he heard the creaking again, up the hall, away from him. Slowly, he stepped to the door and peered into the closet to see a ladder there.

That wasn’t all he saw, however. At the bottom of the ladder was a shoe, like someone had climbed so quickly, they’d lost a shoe.

The shoe was not only familiar, Basil had brought the pair a year before at a shoe store in Northern California, where he’d gone on vacation.

With Steve.

He’d bought a pair for himself and a pair for his then boyfriend, and Steve hadn’t worn another pair since.

The shoe was all the clue he needed to know who was in the attic.

He left the room and went to the kitchen quickly, telling Herb he wasn’t feeling well.

Herb nearly freaked out on him, grabbing his arms and looking into his face. “What’s wrong? Do you feel like you’ll vomit, or too hot?”

“Mostly just tired, but yeah, a little sick to my stomach too. Maybe the fumes from the cleansers.”

“Fuck, I should have gotten masks for us. Come on, let’s walk back to Lila and I’ll make you some tea.”

“That’s perfect.”

As he sat sipping the tea, he tried to think of what to do about Steve. He couldn’t allow him to continue to squat in Herb’s house, trying his best to hurt Herb or whatever was happening, but if he told Herb, the first thing his new boyfriend would likely do was call the cops.

And he couldn’t blame the man for that.

Steve wasn’t violent. Basil guessed that the things he’d done came from heartbreak and pain. He needed to be committed again, to have his pills given to him, and he needed to understand that Basil wasn’t going back to him. Not ever.

Basil said goodbye to Herb and went home, saying a fast hello to his mom, grandmother and Lila, who were making a quilt.

“Home already?” Lila asked, smirking.

“Uh…yeah. I’m not feeling well. Gonna go lay down.”

He headed straight for his room before Abuela came into it without knocking. “What’s wrong?”

“Just tired, Abuela.”

“No, you’re not. What happened?”

His grandmother had no love for the police. She had terrible stories of living in LA when she was young and all that had come with that and the police there. He had to tell someone.

“Steve’s back, and he’s…he’s living in Herb’s house.”

Instead of being shocked, she quietly nodded and came to sit beside him on the edge of his double bed, placing a thin, powerful arm around him. “He misses you.”

“I love Herb, Abuela. I love him.”

“Well, we all knew that. So, what will you do?”

“I can’t call the police. He’ll get out of the hospital and head straight to jail, and jail will kill him.”

Again, she slowly nodded. “Prison is no good for anyone in trouble. Just teaches them how to get into more trouble.”

“Exactly. Without me…”

“You were a rock for him, honey, but you were a rock breaking open for him too. You can’t spend your life fixing him.

I know you would, but you have a whole man who would do anything for you now.

If he were in trouble like Steve, he’d take his meds if only to make you happy.

Steve…as good a boy as he always was, he’s not ready yet for you or any man.

He needs to fix himself or let doctors help him fix him.

You tried. You’re still trying. There’s no fault in you over what he does, Basil. Not a bit.”

“I know. I…”

“Take him to the hospital. Go to him, be careful, protect yourself, but get him and take him to the hospital and tell him the truth once you get there. When you’re safe there, with other people, tell him for the last time that it’s over, but you will always care about him, and be his friend.”

His grandmother was the wisest person he knew. She always knew what to say or do.

He hugged her tightly, feeling her bones through her thin skin. “I love you, Abuela.”

“I know that, honey. I love you too.”

That night, once his family was asleep, Basil got into the truck and headed to Herb’s, after texting him for a while to assure he was going to stay at Lila’s for the entire evening.

He parked down the road a bit, so no one would see his headlights flashing across Herb’s yard, and as he crept to the house, he saw the attic dormer window, and the soft glow of candlelight that shone there.

Stopping, Basil hid in the shadow of the two tall trees in front and watched. It wasn’t long before he saw the silhouette of Steve pacing fast across the floor, blocking out the light each time he crossed in front of it.

That told him that he had been right. When Steve was in the middle of his manic phases, he paced wildly as his mind spun like a record on high.

Thoughts ran through his mind, and he’d voice most of them.

It was why he almost always carried a water bottle.

His mouth would dry quickly from his constant, fast speech.

His hands, too, never sat idle. One would run over his brown hair, the cuticles of the other chewed relentlessly.

Basil moved from the shadow of the trees and headed to the backdoor, turning the knob to find it locked.

What Herb hadn’t realized was that Basil had taken his keys before they’d parted. He unlocked the door and went inside, padding as softly as he could through the kitchen and into the dining room, looking up the stairs as he went.

There was the creaking, and it was pretty loud in the otherwise quiet house. He hurried up the stairs and down the hall, listening to the creaking as he went. It was fast and loud, that creaking, and the pacing was obvious.

As he got to the bedroom with the entrance to the attic, he held his breath and set one foot and one hand on the ladder, staring up at the hatch that led to the attic.

He didn’t stop because he was afraid. Of Steve, he’d never been afraid. Even at his worst, Steve loved Basil. He was the only one who was a steady person in Steve’s life. Even his parents had little to do with him, sending money and paying for his hospitalizations, but never visiting.

The guy was a mess, but a lovely mess with a big heart. It hurt Basil that he’d hurt Steve. He just didn’t love him like that. He couldn’t return the love Steve had for him.

Mostly because it wasn’t the kind of love Basil could return. For Steve, it was more of an obsession, a part of his disease. As much as he tried, Basil couldn’t be the guy that Steve needed.

He moved up the ladder and pushed open the hatch slowly, and as quietly as he could. He saw Steve, pacing and mumbling to himself, like Basil had seen a thousand times.

Once the hatch was fully open, he moved into the attic before Steve realized he was there, and once he did, Steve’s face broke in a triumphant smile.

“Basil! Oh, God, I knew you’d find me!”

Basil stood motionless while Steve lunged into his arms, holding him while he spoke a mile a minute.

“I swear, I didn’t mean to start the fire, and I know you’re mad at me, but I just meant it to be a little fire, not to hurt you or anything, because, you know, I’d never hurt you, and then I thought about the car you used to have.

Remember how that thing would smoke, and it reminded me of that car and when we first kissed in that car.

The kiss, oh, I don’t know, I never thought I kissed very well, and you—”

“Steve, shhh, stop.”

He pulled back and stared into Basil’s eyes. “Sure, sure. I’ll stop. Go ahead and talk, and tell me absolutely everything you’ve done since you last saw me and then I’ll do that and we’ll be all caught up, except, well, I don’t remember everything, even though you know I have a great memory.”

“You’re going back to the hospital, Steve. Tonight.”

He smiled and shook his head. “Funny,” he said before he started pacing again. “Do you remember that baseball game we went to? The one in town when that other team had those crazy pink uniforms? We laughed so hard at those! Remember?”

“I remember.”

As he paced, he was on about other things, and Basil knew how to wait until he stopped for a breath. That gave him time to look around, and he saw the pipe and bag of pot, the seven empty cans of Dr. Pepper, Steve’s favorite drink.

There was a thin sheet and blanket on the floor and a throw pillow for a bed, and a pile of clothes. That mess wasn’t all, though. There was a pile of pencils, worn down completely, and what Steve had used them for was literally all over the walls.

Pictures and words were on every wall as far up as Steve could reach and all the way to the floor. When Steve didn’t have someone to talk to about his manic-induced ideas and memories, he wrote them all.

There were baseball players on one wall, cars on another, roses on yet another, though he wasn’t a great artist, the pictures were good enough for Basil to see what each was. The words, all scribbled with the left-handed slant Steve had and all bunched together tightly.

Millions of words, telling Basil how long this manic stage had been. His heart hurt for Steve, and he had to help him. Prison would kill him. Letting him go completely would too. Neither was the answer.

“Steve, get your stuff together. We’re leaving.”

“You got a place of your own now?”

As hopeful as he looked, Basil knew he knew what Basil meant.

“Steve, you set Herb’s house on fire. You are living here, and you…you destroyed his property on different occasions. You could go to jail.”

He waved a hand in the air and scoffed, “Nah, I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”

“You meant to hurt him, whether or not you know that. You’re jealous that I’m with him now.”

Steve picked up a pencil, then set it back with the others, rummaging through them for one that could still write. “Well, maybe, but you can’t blame me.”

“Steve, you’re all into me now, you want me so bad, but soon, you’ll hit your depression phase, and you won’t want to see me for weeks.

You’ll lay in a bed, lights off, not eating, barely drinking water, and you will refuse to see me.

We can’t have a relationship when you only want me when you’re manic. ”

“Manic, shmanic, you’re just using those words from the docs, and I’ll tell you, what is manic about remembering the good times we had, or thinking of ways to make us some money to get the fuck out of this town? Get free of my parents, ya know?”

Basil mustered every bit of courage he had, sucked up his lingering feelings for the man that had won his heart with his sideways, beautiful smile, and he stuffed them down to be able to give him an ultimatum.

“We’re going to the hospital, or you’re going to jail.

Those are your two choices. That’s it. No more talking me out of it, no more running away. ”

Steve side-eyed him, then dropped straight to his knees. “I can’t go back. I can’t take those pills! They…they get rid of me, and I know you don’t like me anymore, but I like the me those pills take!”

He’d made the same plea so many times, it was tedious.

“The you that you are right now won’t last. You may like it, but you’re about to hit the wall.

You’ll be depressed a long time, and then…

who knows what you’re going to do the next time you’re manic?

You’ve committed crimes this time, Steve, and they’re not little ones. Arson, attempted murder…”

“Murder!” Steve began to laugh hysterically. “You’re the one who needs the hospital, Basil. I’d never hurt anyone. That was…dumb, and I’m sorry, okay? Is that what you wanted?”

“If you’re truly sorry, Steve, you’ll come with me now. Right now.”

It took another hour of talking, but finally, Steve agreed to leave with him. As Basil described the crimes, and the punishments for each, Steve relented. He may have bipolar, but he wasn’t crazy. Jail was hell for the most well person, let alone someone with his disease.

They got into the truck and headed out, the darkness of the night possible from the thick dark clouds covering the moon.

As soon as they were on the road, Basil told him, “You know, if you weren’t so jealous, and hating him because of me, you’d really like Herb.

I hope you’ll get to meet him when you’re out and well. ”

“Will I ever be?”

“If you stay on your meds, yeah.”

“You won’t want me around!”

Basil sighed, “Of course, I will. You’re still my friend, Steve. You’ll always be my friend.”

“Really?” he asked in a small voice. “You mean that?”

“I don’t lie, Steve. You know that. I can’t lie; I get all nervous.”

As Steve laughed, he said, “God, you’re bad at it.”

“Yeah. I am.”