intermčde (interlude)

“Eat up,” Debbie states as she places a plate of food in front of Brian. “Not hungry,” he mutters, walking away from the counter and dropping onto the couch. “I didn’t ask if you were hungry, Hot Shot, I said ‘eat up,’” she snaps. Then, looking at her surrogate son’s despondent face, decides to change tactics. Sighing, she walks over to where Brian is sitting. “You going to work today?” “Nope.” Sitting down, she stares at the blank television screen. “Planning on watching something?” “Not really.” She nods, and then asks, “Got something we can smoke?” He forces a small smile and walks back to the kitchen. He knew there was a reason why he let Debbie into his home this morning. Returning back to the couch, he starts to prepare the joint as Debbie watches him. “Don’t forget to stamp it.” Brian chuckles. Shaking his head, “Of course not.” Finishing his work, he lights it up and offers her the first hit. “Such a gentleman,” she teases. Leaning back against the couch, he closes his eyes and extends his hand for his turn. Once he feels the joint between his fingers, he slowly slips it between his lips and inhales deeply, focusing on the inviting fog that would eventually numb the pain inside. After a few minutes of sharing the pot, Debbie finally speaks, “So Carl told me that someone broke in your place last night.” “Yep,” he answers with a heavy sigh. “They were looking for information.” She sighs, closing her own eyes, “About Sunshine and his sister, Molly?” He nods, “Yep,” then comments, “You need to make up a name for her, Deb.” She laughs, “What for? I barely know the girl.” Shrugging, he answers, “It just sounds weird… Sunshine and Molly. I mean, what the fuck? It’s like a bed & breakfast motel or some shit like that.” “Bed and Breakfast? You think so? I was thinking maybe a cereal.” Brian takes another hit, “Yeah, I could see that too. Or a granola bar.” “Yeah, very breakfasty.” He snorts, “Breakfasty?” “It’s a word,” she tries to argue. “No it’s not.” She laughs, “Sure it is.” Brian tries not to smile, but his lips twitch and that darn smile starts to appear, “It is not a fuckin’ word.” Still laughing, Debbie counters, “No, it’s definitely not a fucking word.” Brian begins to laugh even though it isn’t funny. “You’re stoned.” “Tweaked.” Shaking his head, he counters, “Stoned.” She shrugs, “It’s been awhile.” Closing his eyes again, he rubs his face with his hands. “You miss him, don’t you?” Debbie asks. “Well that would be an understatement.” He replies bitterly. “I believe you.” Frowning, Brian opens his eyes, “About what?” “That they’re still alive. I believe you. I mean, I fuckin’ know it in my heart. Justin is like a son to me, and I know he’s alive. I can feel it in my bones.” Brian smiles sadly. Somewhere his phone begins to rings. Ignoring it, Brian lets his machine pick up. At the beep he hears someone from a credit card company calling to verify a purchase that was made. Debbie smiles softly, “Maybe they want to verify a purchase from Dildo’s R Us?” Brian shakes his head, taking another drag, “You_are_stoned.” “Tweaked.” “Whatever.” “Are you going to call them back?” He shrugs, “Not important.” “You never know,” she says, standing up, “I should go…” wobbling, she falls back to the couch, laughing, “Maybe not.” He chuckles, “Tweaked my ass.” “I’ll tweak your something,” she threatens halfheartedly. Grinning, he hands her his joint and starts to laugh as she takes another hit.