Page 26 of Small Sacrifices

When he looks down again, it's to see a smushed pink cardboard box lying at his feet, little anthropomorphic donuts grinning up at him. Could Everett still be angry about yesterday? If he is, Reid just made it worse. Because he's not only run into Everett, now he's also squashed his midnight snack.

"I'm sorry about your donuts," Reid says, but his voice comes out high and reedy. It sounds concerning even to himself.

When he directs a quick glance at Everett's brother to make sure that at least someone came out of this encounter unscathed, he’s met by wide brown eyes behind a curtain of black hair.

"Are you okay?" the teenager asks.

Reid nods, and then he can't stop nodding. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's just been a long day." His fingers are still pressing into the disappointingly flat wallpaper. Why is wallpaper never structured when he needs it to be?

"Max, how about you go and get a bottle of water?" Everett asks. Reid's stomach plummets. Oh no. He can just about make out eyebrows scrunched together, a stern set to the corner of Everett's mouth. He's angry at him.

"But Ev—"

"Max, please. Water."

Max huffs, pushes his long hair out of his face and takes off. And then, they're alone. It's weird. Reid almost feels like this isn't real. He can feel how hard his heart is pounding, how fast his breath is going. But it doesn't mean anything. When Everett steps towards him, it's like he's watching a movie.

"What did you take?"

What a strange question. He asks Everett what he means. The other man scoffs.

"Drugs. Did you take any drugs? You look strung out," he explains.

Now that he says it, this feels similar to that one time Reid's doctor thought it was a good idea to double his dose of Ritalin instead of raising it gradually. Everything's rushing past him, and he's just standing in the stream, helpless to do anything but observe.

What Reid wants to say is something along the lines of how he would never take drugs that weren't prescribed to him by a doctor. He's way too scared of the effects they could have on him. But the words just won't come out. In the end, he settles for: "No drugs." It's disgustingly ineloquent.

There's some kind of movement on Everett's face, but it's all too blurry for Reid to even see what it is, never mind interpret it. "Itwouldbe kind of stupid of you to get high at work," he says. It almost sounds like agreement.

Reid's first instinct is to offer to take a drug test, but he's been warned that Ritalin can show up on those, even in the small dosage that he takes. Structurally, Ritalin isn't that dissimilar to meth. To prevent himself from saying anything along those lines, he bites down on his bottom lip until he's found something better to say.

"I don't take drugs. It's just been a tough day. I'm working on the—the parents—and all the children—have youseenthe news reports? It's bad. I can't—"

"Hey, heyheyhey." Everett raises his arms to calm him down. "That's—I understand that. It's probably a lot."

Reid can only respond with, "They'rechildren." The image of Tímon Gutierrez's face, with dark rings and sores, and the blistering rashes on Robin's arms and legs flood his mind. The thought of doctors fighting to keep a six-year-old off dialysis is overwhelming. It's all so horrible.

He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to steady his breathing. The sound of it is loud and raspy in his ears, like someone dragging a heavy hand over felt. It must be loud to Everett, too. Reid feels ridiculous. Everett thinks he's high. That's why he sent his brother away, isn't it? Would make sense. The pressure in Reid's chest grows, followed by a fresh wave of panic. If people think he has a drug problem, he could lose his job. This is not good.

"Hey!" Everett's voice penetrates the fog in Reid's head. "I won't touch you, I get that. But you need to tell me what's going on, or I'll have to call an ambulance. You don't look too good."

"No ambulance!" Reid can hear how breathless his voice is. Nevermind the unnecessary expense. If his parents get that bill, then it's over. His father wasn't making empty threats. If they get even a whiff of Reid being overwhelmed, his parents will stop paying his rent. It's the easiest way to force him to come home. Where would Reid come up with the money to pay Sacramento rent when he doesn't have the work experience he needs for jobs with acceptable pay?

Swallowing is difficult, but when he can finally concentrate enough to do it, he calms down a bit. "I'm just overwhelmed. I've been working too much. This is normal."

"Normal?"Everett sounds scandalized.

Maybe that's not the best word to use. It's not like it happens every other week. "Well, predictable. I was just leaving to go home." Another breath. "I won't disturb anyone. Please don't call an ambulance."

"Okay..." He can tell that Everett isn't convinced. "Then what do you need?"

To be left alone, that's what he needs. But he can tell that's not about to happen. The nervous energy is radiating off of Everett in waves, and his brother could come back at any moment. If anything, he needs to wait for him.

"Just be quiet," he says. "I need silence. That's why I was—"

"On your way home, yeah. But are you sure that's a good idea? Can you even drive like that?"

That's not silence. And the temptation to point it out is sweet, but he's getting the impression that Everett doesn't even notice what he's doing.

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