Chapter 13

My throat was parched when I woke. The bitter taste of aspirin still lingered. I felt the cold perspiration on my back but I felt so much better already. Larry was still fast asleep. One side of his face was pressed against his crossed-arms which rested on top of the bed directly opposite from the spot where I rested. The rain started to subside. The sun penetrated the curtains and Larry's face was bathed in its warm light in a subliminal kind of way, it was like he was chosen to be there in that special corner of the world.

I rose gently to not wake him up but the bed was too soft to resist even the slightest movement. It sent ripples on the opposite side towards him.

"Did I wake you up?" He stretched his arms and yawned. His lips twitched for whatever sudden discomfort he was feeling.

"No, it's the opposite." I told him.

"How are you feeling?" He said, shaking his hands briskly.

"Better," I told him, "What's wrong?"

"Can't feel my hands." He complained.

"Cramps." I said.

"Cramps," he said.

"Give me your hands." He looked confused.

"Hands Larry..." I signaled. He reached out his hands hesitantly. I pulled him closer. I fitted my fingers between the gaps in his hands and started massaging it tenderly.

"How are you feeling?" I asked his hands. Can't possibly look at his face point blank lest I go blind.

"Good. Where'd you learn this trick?" He inquired.

"From Nana."

"There, that should do it. Better?"

"Better. Thank you."

He stood up and grabbed the medical kit pulling a pair of tweezers.

"What is it this time?" I gibe.

"Need to clean your bruises. This won't hurt, I promise."

He plucked the scabs carefully using the tweezers and dubbed the pinkish skin with Hydrogen Peroxide. It had an awful smell that hurt my nose.

"So, are you gonna tell me what happened here?" He carefully disposed the used cotton-balls inside the bin.

"No."

"Alright." He softly blew my knuckles still with traces of the yellow liquid he dabbed using cotton balls earlier on. He took my body temperature once again and smiled like a lunatic at the thermometer.

"Your fever has subsided!" Declared Larry, as though all the joy in the world was living inside that goddamn thermometer.

"Great. You'll be a good doctor one day." I assured him.

We spent the rest of the lazy afternoon lying on the bed. I was reading "Catcher In The Rye" and Larry was wearing my headset. He was singing softly to the tune of "Zephyr" by The Red-Hot Chili Peppers.

"You got good taste for music!" He exclaimed.

"I certainly hope that your voice is half as good too." I responded jokingly while I turned the page of the book I was reading. Larry sounded like a swarm of disoriented bees when he sung.

"Come Florante, sing this song with me!" He was lying on his stomach. His feet dangled in the air. He removed the headsets from my Walkman and the square-shaped devise whirred shortly when it transitioned to speaker.

***The song played***

"Take a look it's on display, for you…"

"Nah, I'm good!"

"C'mmon Florante! Sing it with me!" He squealed like a mouse.

"Alright, goddamn it Larry!" I hid the book under the pillow. The chorus hit and we were both singing.

Fly away on my Zephyr

I feel it more than ever

And in this perfect weather

We'll find a place together…

The song went on and on. We lie on the bed staring at the ceiling. There's a kind of peace all around. The gentle rain, Red-Hot Chili Peppers, Larry and I. And this unearthly kind of peace I feel whenever I am with him.

"Do you think we will ever find our place in the world one day?" He asked as the song was fading slowly to a halt.

"We will, Larry. We will." I should have told him I already found mine.