Max wasn't sure what it meant, but he found Chris fascinating. He'd just never met anyone like him. It was that simple. Or maybe it had to do that he hadn't actually made a friend since coming back. He was busy. Not that he considered himself a mover and a shaker in the religious sense. It was just meeting the needs, and hoping nobody took him for anything more than what he was. A servant of God.
But something about Chris got to him. He was so shy and yet Max wanted to know more about him. Only Chris wasn't exactly giving him answers.
Max drove him home after the emergency. Chris really wasn't fit to drive himself home. They'd given him something for the pain after they stitched him up. Chris was more worried how mad they would be at him at work.
"I'm sure you can take a day off or two," Max told him. "You'll be good in no time."
"Yeah, right." He could see Chris was trying to be indifferent. He didn't even want the ride home after Max had called someone that they didn't need to pick him up.
"I just want to see that you're OK," which was so true because Max was beginning to feel that Chris didn't have anyone. He really needed someone and Max felt deep down, it had to be him.
"I'll be just fine." Chris just said.
"Did Dayton move out?"
"I think so." Chris just nodded, staying as mute as possible as Max drove Chris' stick shift truck home.
"Even if he was there, would he really do anything for you?" Max was serious.
"No, I dunno." Chris didn't want to talk about it.
"Did he do this to you?"
"Not exactly." Chris sighed.
"He did, didn't he?" Max was concerned.
"I got the better of him, its not that big of a deal. He's gone, all right." Chris just gave Max a sore look in the moonlight.
"But you ended up with stitches." Max confirmed.
"All right, I was just trying to take the knife away from him and ..and it happened. It was an accident." Chris squinted.
Max just shook his head.
"You should file a report or something."
Chris shook his head, no. "Whats done is done. He's gone."
"But what if he comes back?" Max kept his eyes on the road as they headed back the way Chris had driven.
"You sound so sure of that? Do you two fight a lot?" Max asked.
"It ain't a big deal." Chris shook his head, holding his bandaged hand.
"Did he ever hit, Bex?"
"I don't know," Chris shrugged. "I don't think so."
"What's he like when he's all aggressive?" Max then turned a right toward Chris' street.
"He likes to hit things."
"I don't know." Chris shook his head.
"Maybe." Chris pressed his dry lips together then. "But its all right, I've been hit lots before. I mean, my Dad always did. In fact he always said I enjoyed an ass whooping. Maybe he was right." Chris almost smiled. "So its all my fault."
"Its not your fault, Chris." Max shook his head as they drove into Chris' driveway.
"Just leave me, alone," Chris just said. He had tears in his eyes.
"I'm afraid its too late for that," Max just grinned.