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Show 128. XVIX "God, what have I done?" JD cried out to the empty house as he jammed shirts and pants and socks into the same old duffel bag he and Stephanie had camped with so few months ago. His head was like a mudpot after seeing Chic. Everything had boiled up inside until he knew he'd explode if he didn't get out of that hospital. He'd driven home like a maniac, wishing some fate would run him up a telephone pole, a fitting end for the misfit he'd become. "Why'd they keep you away so long?" Chic had said weakly. "I begged 'em to let you come in." "Can you see me lifting weights?" Chic managed. "The ninety-seven pound weakling?" JD tried to laugh. "But what about your eyes?" he felt like blurting out. "Look at yourself, Chic-blind and fumbling. Because of me! I'm an ass!" he wanted to say, "a stupid, brainless, sonofabitching ass!" But he just held Chic's hand all the tighter, unable to find words for the things he'd planned to say the day before. "We fixed ol' Gayle, didn't we?" Chic grinned. "Yeah, we were kind of rotten, weren't we? I don't guess she'll crash any more tubing parties." "JD, on the next Renegade . . . will you do my column? I don't want Tomlin to botch it fooling around." "Sure. Don't worry about it." "Something else. Did you get in your portfolio?" His voice is sounding tired, JD thought. "The scholarship?" Chic persisted when he didn't answer. "Yeah yeah, I did." Chic didn't need to know he'd missed out. Not yet. And then, before he'd managed to get out the "I'm sorry's" that stuck in his throat, the nurse had come in and motioned for him to leave. JD turned back at the door, frustrated with grief. "Chic," he tried again- "I'll be okay," Chic raised his hand in an unsteady salute, "the food here's . . . terrific . . ." |