Page 67 of Lift Me Up

Again, nothing. She shivers and holds her arms around her middle, and tries to keep the tears in her eyes from falling.

I step forward again. She steps back. This dance we play has to end. I can't take it.

"Don't. Just... I'm sorry," Her voice waivers.

"You promised you wouldn't do this."

She glares at me. "Don't fucking guilt me right now."

I hold up my hands, "I'm not trying to. Can we please talk⁠—"

"No. You promised me space if I asked for it. This is me asking for space."

"Georgia,"

"Don't call me that. Please understand, just... please." She stumbles, holding her head in her hands. She's breaking, and she won’t let me near her to help her. It's tearing me apart. I feel my chest pinching to bring in air.

"I don't think I can understand. Why won't you let me near you? Why won’t you let me in?" I pause, unable to articulate my feelings, wondering how in just a few moments things could've gone this poorly.

"I can't..." She shakes her head but it throws her off balance, swaying to and from. She touches her face, eyes wide as she stumbles. I lurch forward to hold her up, her name on my lips.

She's burning against my skin. I swallow hard, terrified. Pressing gentle hands to her face, I coax her to sit down on the edge of the flowerbed. "Don't move. Georgie please, don't move. I'm going to get Franny. Please, please don't go anywhere. We can get some help..."

I kiss her forehead, silently begging her to listen, to stay just for once. I feel my heart pounding in my chest, the need to get Franny, to ask her what to do, how to get Georgie to realize I'm here and not going anywhere. When I do find Franny, and tell her about Georgie, her face pales. She takes off running with me to the front of the house. The moment I go through the gate, I know the sound echoing down the street, the bus groaning its way over the speedbumps, driving on its way to who knows where. I know, in the pit of my stomach, the error I made in leaving her alone like this.

When confronted with vulnerability, Georgia Wright is all flight, no fight left to give.

I know the second the bus drives by, the way Franny turns back to me, that Georgie is gone.

My heart absolutely shatters.

CHAPTER THIRTY

GEORGIE

You never really know just how much someone affects your life until you're sitting all alone, wishing they were there while simultaneously wishing they were as far away as possible. The reason is, you don't want them to see you as anything other than perfect. This is how I feel with Noah. I love him, I am in love with him; and falling was unexpected and yet so natural that it was hardly a surprise once I realized it. But now that I know how I feel, it makes it that much harder to try and keep him at a distance.

I kept him away once and failed. I couldn't let him see this again, even if he said he wanted to be a part of everything with me. It was too difficult, and I know that it would only result in the same ending that Brandon and I had. Resentment and anger at something I can't control. No matter how much I wanted to spend my life cuddled up in his embrace, no matter how much I wanted to give and take and have that intimacy and all the things we could dream of, my life would never look as normal as he pictured it. It was easier to let him down slowly, let him walk away before it became too much. Easier to be in pain and miserable alone than to bring everyone down with you on the way.

But the moment I got on that bus and watched Noah in the driveway of his parents home, fading away as the bus carried on its route, I knew I fucked up. I fucked up so hard, I saw that look on his face, on Franny's face; the look of disappointment, of fear, of a broken heart from not being included or trusted in this scenario. But all I knew was I had to get out of there, I had to leave before anyone realized the smell was coming from me. I dreaded every second of that baby shower, and not because I hated Noah's family.

On the contrary, I loved Sienna even after just meeting her, loved her energy and her spirit and her love for her friends and family and especially her brother. But I knew that if I didn't want to ruin her night, I had to get out of there. I knew the smells, knew the feelings happening to my body that I tried to play off as casual, to make it inconspicuous of anything. But the moments came in flashes, and I focused more on keeping myself upright and conscious. Alone on the bus, I barely remembered when the bell dinged and I got off at a stop. I was too worried, too focused on the constant replay of Noah's heart breaking as he met my eyes for that split second as the bus drove past him. I was too focused on maintaining my composure and getting myself to the place I needed to be.

I thought maybe I imagined it, all of it, maybe this was all some fever dream, and I would soon wake up from it to find that no relationship had ever felt this right, that waking up felt wrong. Maybe Noah was a figment of my imagination, my subconscious playing a cruel trick on me, making me love someone who wasn't real, who had no flaws, when I was nothing but flaws and scars. Maybe it was delirium from cellulitis or sepsis setting in. There's always that option. A far more likely option, in fact.

I started feeling it halfway through the party, and I knew. I'd felt the pain before, but the very first time I had no idea what was happening. It started with the tiniest pinprick of a pain I thought might be a bug bite or a bee sting. It bloomed out of nowhere, this tiny pinch of pain started right at my navel and stayed, a constant sting. I thought it would go away, so I paid no mind to the tiny pink splotch at the source and carried on with my day. But quickly, I realized it wasn't going anywhere, and that pinprick turned into a sunburn, across my entire stomach and in my belly button. It was a hot, searing pain with no end.

It felt like being stabbed with a hot poker, but instead of the heat subsiding after the brand, it grew hotter, and deeper. I started sweating, but I was freezing cold all day. I felt nauseous at the thought of eating. I was dizzy, delirious, and could barely stand when Franny found me on my couch and demanded I go to the hospital. I hadn't realized it then, but the red splotch turned into a rash that looked like a world map across my skin, a red hot angry map that took months to fade away and made me fearful to ever experience it again.

So yes, I know the exact feeling I felt then is the very same feeling I am having now. But this time? It's my leg. Starting at the area that the doctor deroofed at the sit spot of my butt, and burning it's way down, down, down my thigh until I can't stand it anymore. The moment I stumble into that emergency room, I know I'll be admitted to the hospital. I take a deep breath, use my shaking hands to type out the 911 text to my mom before I stumble from the bus stop, down across the street through the emergency room doors, into the waiting area. Nurses catch my eye as I hold the wall to keep myself upright. Colours start to dot my vision, and when the nurses ask me what's going on, it takes all my energy to explain my situation.

They don't even triage me the moment I show them the ever-growing red mark down my thigh. They put me in a wheelchair, hushing my shrieks of pain as they get me to sit on the searing rash, calling for the first available doctor to assist. I can feel my heartbeat softly in my chest. It skips slightly, thumping hard to keep up with the panic and pain. Doctors and nurses are whizzing around me, the lights go spotty again. They prep an IV and speak in medical jargon I barely understand.

The world moves around me, and all I can do is wish they will take my pain seriously, give me something to make me comfortable or to make it at least bearable to breathe. My head is throbbing, and I can't take it anymore. I break down, no longer trying to be that strong person who puts on a brave face. I beg them to help me, to tell my mom I love her, because this feels a lot closer to death than I'd like to be. The doctor orders a nurse to do something as she stands beside me, trying to calm my hysteria. But their words are like water in my ears, and I can't make out what they're saying or doing. I feel like I am drowning on dry land and no one is going to save me.

The nurse's soothing hands are cool against my hot skin, her lips hushing me as she says, "It's okay sweetie, we've got you now."

They must put something in my IV because it takes effect almost instantly. The pain slowly lifts, not completely, but to a point where I can breathe, where my eyes slip closed, and I can rest. I remember nothing after that.