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I yank the shirt he’s waving around. “I can dress myself, thanks.” Like a gentleman, he twists around for me to slip it on. When I sit up, I wince from the ache in my lower stomach. Fresh tears graze my cheeks and I wish I could stop feeling. I pray for numbness.
Max sits down next to me again, wrapping his arms around my body and holds me tight while I cry.
“Max!” I scream, squeezing my eyes shut, as sunlight floods into the room. Not even the thick white comforter I throw over my head can keep out the intruding brightness. The numbness that I longed for, finally hit. This is the first time in three days I’ve seen the sun and it sucks.
“I made you a doctor’s appointment,” he says firmly. I’ve stopped bleeding and cramping so I don’t know why he’s making me go to the doctor. It’s done.
My baby is gone.
“I don’t need a doctor,” I grumble from under the covers.
“You need to talk to someone. You don’t want to talk to me, so I found you a doctor.”
That is the last thing I need right now. Sleep, that’s what I need. Closing my eyes, my listless body turns heavy, pulling me under. I yelp again when my protective comforter shell rips off me. The cold air bites my body, sending chills all over it.
“Really, Max?” I sneer, wrapping the sheet around me.
“Sydney, this isn’t up for discussion. You’re going.” His eyes bore into me and I know I don’t have a choice. I throw my feet over the side of the bed and stomp to the chair holding my yoga pants. Stuffing each leg in, I yank them up and stare back.
“Let’s go,” I say between gritted teeth, holding my arms out wondering why he’s not moving. This was his idea.
His eyes widen as he gets a good view of me. “You… don’t want to take a shower first?”
I glance down my body. The same wrinkled shirt and black pants I showed up in days ago hang off me. Rubbing my eyeballs with my palms, I groan. “No, Max. I don’t. I don’t want to talk to anyone either, for the record. I don’t want to leave here. I don’t want to do anything except go back to sleep.”
“Well, that was productive.” My voice drips with sarcasm as we exit the medical building. The doctor asked questions, I didn’t answer them. She won’t understand the loss I’m experiencing, no matter what I say. I pull sunglasses down from the top of my head, walking down a street I don’t remember walking before. Conveniently, the doctor was close to our hotel. I sigh. What exhausting thing did he plan now? “Where are we going?”
Max looks down at me, his eyebrows pinched with concern. “We’re going back to the hotel.”
I study the street, glancing around at the different buildings trying to locate anything that looks familiar. Did we come this way? Great! I’m losing my mind too. Add it to the list of stuff I’ve lost.
As soon as we step into the hotel room, I head for the shower—not because the doctor told me to—but because I got a whiff of my funky body sitting on her couch. I catch a glimpse of my reflection that I was trying hard to avoid. I do a double take because the person looking back is a stranger. Her cheeks are hollow and the dark circles under her eyes look like smeared makeup. Her hair is stringy and greasy. She’s screaming inside of herself. She’s lost, but I can’t help her.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper to her, moving away from the haunted reflection and slide into the hot shower.
“Feel better?” Max asks when I wander into the living room. I stare at him, dumbfounded. If he expects a hot shower will cure everything, he’s an idiot. He throws his palms up. “Just asking. Don’t kill me for being concerned.”
I don’t care if I hurt his feelings. I don’t care that he’s concerned.
I just don’t care anymore.
While I’m preparing a cup of tea, he informs me he’s going to take a shower. I watch him stroll out of the room and the only thing I can think is, leave. As soon as I hear the shower turn on, I rush around the room, grabbing my backpack and slip my shoes on and debate sneaking into the bedroom to grab my clothes.
No. I need to leave now.
I glance around the room one last time and I notice a small pad with hotel letterhead on the table next to the couch. Peering back toward the bedroom, my stomach twists. He’s done so much for me, the least I can do is leave a note.
I scribble words on the paper.
Please don’t search for me.
Thank you.
Tink.
“He knew where you were.” Addison squeezes my hand, pulling me from my story. It seems like it happened a lifetime ago.
I grin softly. “I know. Well, I know now. He mentioned he was keeping tabs on me.”
