Almost three months had gone by and Nicky wasn't making much headway with Eric. She was getting a little upset with herself, and her report to Robert wasn't exactly optimistic. Eric was still reluctant to talk much, which made it hard for her to propose any form of serious counselling or therapy for him. He would give her the cold shoulder and let her rambled away while he shut his mind off her. The invisible barrier he erected around himself was so thick, it was almost impossible to penetrate through, and he still drink. A few times she had quietly followed him after their usual session, and she had seen him went into the pub on his way home. After sometime, he came out staggering on his feet.
Eric, on his part had tried means and ways to get rid of her but without much success. He would be on his most vulgar, uncouth and unsightly behaviour like, belching loudly right in her face or even picking his nose during meals just to spite her, but she remained unruffled. Sometimes the things he did were so gross he couldn't even stand it himself and yet Nicky had pretended she hadn't noticed, which inflamed him even more. In the end, he grudgingly admitted defeat and changed his tactic by giving her the cold shoulder and indifferent mentality instead.
He was still as unkempt as ever and he stank. Nicky took it as a sign of rebellion against her counselling. Each time they met up, he would be in his gloves. The rest of him would be shabby and crumpled, but his gloves were always clean. He would wear either soft cotton gloves in dark brown, grey or black or in black or brown soft leather, but both the last finger pouch would be cut off and the opening stitched up neatly.
This evening, Nicky waited for Eric outside the factory as usual. When he finally came out Nicky suggested they stroll back to his apartment instead and maybe grab a bite along the way. What Nicky had in mind was to get his inner self to be in touch with the sight and sound of the city again. Hopefully something might catch his eye and spark an interest in him, which might bring him around in accepting her counselling wholeheartedly.
"Whatever," Eric replied gruffly.
Along the way home, Nicky tried to coax him into talking music in general, but all he ever said was 'Yes' or 'No'. Sometimes she pointed out to him some buskers playing a harmonica or a blind man strumming his guitar away at the street corners. Or she attempted to interest him in some street painters who were painting with their feet instead their hands. Eric just gave them flitting glances and commented nothing, but inwardly he was seething in silent fury.
What the fuck did she expect him to do? Use his toes to play?
he thought furiously.
They were about two blocks from his apartment when Nicky suddenly stopped walking. Eric wasn't aware she lagged behind until she called after him.
"Eric, could you hold on a second?"
Eric looked at his cheap watch and noticed they still had 15 minutes left.
Damn! What now?
He thought moodily.
Without waiting for Eric's reply, Nicky walked across the street to a very young girl, probably about sixteen by the look of her. She was dressed up like a streetwalker standing there as though waiting for customers. The young girl seemed upset seeing Nicky there, and they were now engaged in conversation. Eric could see the young girl was shaking her head at Nicky. Just then a burly youth came out of the shadow and stepped up to them and pulled the young girl away from Nicky. Nicky tried to restrain the young girl from walking away with the youth but the youth turned around, and pointed his finger at Nicky's face, as though to warn her not to follow them. Undeterred, Nicky chased after them. Hardly more than a few steps when the youth turned back suddenly, and punched Nicky on the jaw. Nicky lost her footing and fell on the pavement. The youth was about to drive a kick into Nicky's fallen form when he felt someone grabbed him around the waist and slammed him so hard against the wall that he felt his breath was almost knocked off from him. It was a tall stranger and the tall stranger was pummelling the shit out of him now.
The burly youth was taken by surprise and tried to retaliate, but the tall stranger seemed to be possess by some kind of madness and was pounding on him viciously. All he could do was to try and blocked off the tall stranger's slamming fists.
By then Nicky had regained her composure and pulled Eric off the struggling youth. Talking rapidly and loudly, she exclaimed, "It's ok! It's ok! I'm alright! Let him go!"
During the commotion the young girl had run off. Eric seemed to come to his senses when he dimly heard Nicky's frantic shouts penetrated his raging mind, and abruptly let the youth loose. The burly youth pushed at him and ran off as fast as his legs could carry him away from the tall madman. Eric was heaving under his breath after his outbursts and turned back to look at Nicky. She looked rather shaken and was slightly breathless too. Under the bright streetlight he spotted a cut and blood on her lower lip.
"You're bleeding," Eric commented under his gasping breath, which was slowly returning to normal.
"Am I?" Nicky sounded startle, as she ran a finger along her lower lip then winced. "Ow! I AM bleeding. You don't mind if we cut short our meeting? I need to get this fixed," as she pointed to her lower lip.
She began to walk off in the direction of the subway. She was about 5 meters away from Eric when she heard him call after her. "Do you want to come up to my place to get that fix?
Nicky turned back to look at him. "You sure about that? I mean I don't want to be in your way. Our session was over ten minutes ago."
"Yeah, come on," Eric offered.
They walked the last two blocks to his apartment. His apartment was smaller than hers with just one bedroom, a kitchen, the living room area and a small dining area. All the furniture looked old, and as expected, his apartment was in a mess as though a hurricane had raced through it. His sofa was full of outdated newspaper, mainly the entertainment section, and dirty clothing. Empty whiskey bottles stood on the low coffee table. There was no evidence of any kind that indicated he had ever been a pianist.
Eric came out of the kitchen carrying some ice, some wet cotton and...surprisingly a clean towel. He grabbed the outdated newspapers and clothes off the sofa and threw them in a heap on the floor to make a space for Nicky. He took off his outer coat, which stank badly of fish smell and threw it on top of the pile of dirty clothing.
"Sit here," commanded Eric.
Nicky took a seat as instructed and Eric sat on the low coffee table opposite her. He swabbed at the cut on her lower lip with the wet cotton to clean off the caked blood.