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“An old friend. She let me crash at her place to save me money, considering I’m kicked out frequently and the only source of income around here. I slept on her couch. If you’d have stayed longer, you would’ve seen her boyfriend coming over to spend the night with her. I ain’t cheating on you.”
Her narrowed eyes tell me she doesn’t believe the truth I just told her. I wish I could say that’s her problem, but I know it’ll be my issue to deal with. As soon as we finish dinner, there’s a knock on the door. Lila rushes to answer. My stomach churns and twists into knots as her friends walk in. Every single one of them carrying a bottle of alcohol. We’ve got a kid on the way; we don’t need to be the party pad anymore.
I grab our empty plates, carry them to the kitchen, and slowly wash the dishes to stay away from temptation for as long as I possibly can. Music plays and it takes all of ten minutes for the noise to irritate me. Lila walks in and grins as I’m almost done.
“Aw, thanks, babe.” She kisses my cheek.
“You’re welcome,” I reply, though my doing this doesn’t have a damn thing to do with helping her out. “We don’t need to have parties anymore,” I quietly add. “That won’t work once Sawyer gets here. People can come over, but they don’t need to be drinking,” my hand falters on a dish as I smell marijuana, “or smoking. You probably don’t even need to inhale that shit. We’re being better, remember?”
One eyebrow rises. “Are you lecturing me, FC?”
“No.” I place the last dish in the rack to dry. “I’m going outside to the staircase. I don’t want to be around this shit anymore.” Before she can ask, I hand her my phone and head to the door.
“We have company!” she shouts at my back.
Yeah, company I don’t want. These are her friends anyway. I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t. If I stay, my chances of relapsing are nearly certain. If I leave, even to the stairway, she’ll probably be ready to beat the shit out of me when they leave, if she waits that long. But for Sawyer, she can do her best attacking me because I can’t risk relapsing again.
The noise level quietens drastically once I step outside and close the door behind me. I walk down the hallway a bit, past the elevators, past the main stairway, and down to another set of stairs that aren’t used as often. What I should do is sneak down to my car, write about today’s events so far, and maybe even write a letter to Idaline.
But for now, I’ll enjoy the peace and quiet because there’s no chance it’ll last long.
I drop my letter to FC in the mail and return to my bed, thankful I called in sick today. I worried entirely too much about the fact that he doesn’t want me to use my phone to contact him anymore. Justin even stayed over after our date, which was an utter disaster. Counting the number of panic attacks I had last night makes anxiety swell within me all over again.
My first one was small, if attacks can be categorized that way. Justin asked if I would be up for having dinner with his parents. Sure, it’s been four months, but I’m not sure I’m ready for that. That’s one of the reasons I declined to go on vacation with him; his family would be there. That’s a huge step and my soul urges me to run far far away.
But my soul needs to go to hell. The damn thing is still stuck on FC and it’s not helping me out any.
My second attack didn’t seem to have a cause. At least, not one I could accurately pinpoint. By the time we got back to my apartment, it was all I could do to change and fall into my bed.
And the third was a motherfucker. I was lying in bed with Justin’s arms around me, in that space where I’m almost asleep, but semi-aware. My thoughts drifted to my conversation with FC. He sounded apologetic, but at the same time, it was as if there was no emotion coming from him at all. Pain stabbed me in the chest as my heartbeat took off as if it needed to build up to a high enough tempo to race right of of my chest. My hands shook hard enough to get Justin’s attention just as my breathing turned into short gasps. When the tingling started in my fingers, I knew it was officially game over.
Justin kept talking to me, but I never heard a word. All I could hear was FC saying he was sorry and then hurrying to tell me goodbye so he could hang up. My chest hurt so bad, I wasn’t sure if I was having a heart attack or if my heart was breaking at finally realizing what it would never have. At some point,
I began to cry. I don’t even know how the attack ended. One minute FC was running through my thoughts and the next, I was tossing and turning in a restless sleep until I woke up this morning.
“Do you want breakfast?” Justin asks as I pull the blankets up to my chin. He doesn’t go into work until tonight and I apparently scared him enough last night that he’s spending the day with me.
“I’m not hungry.” All I want is more sleep.
He kisses my shoulder and settles in behind me with an arm over my waist. “I don’t know what you need, but I’m here. Don’t forget that, okay?”
I grab his hand and squeeze in appreciation.
When I awake hours later, I’m semi-rejuvenated and hungry. Rolling over, I discover Justin is no longer in bed with me.
“Justin?” I call out. I relax at hearing footsteps and seeing him walk into my room. “You’re still here.”
“Yeah. I’ve been cooking dinner.”
Dinner? I glance at my clock. I slept all day! Wait. “You need to leave! You’ll be late for work,” I tell him.
Justin shakes his head. “I called in earlier to see if I could get someone to switch shifts with me.”
“You don’t have to stay here with me.”
He walks over and holds out his hand. “You’ve had me worried. It’s either worry about you here or on the job and I’d rather do it here. Come on; let’s eat.”
I hug him when I stand. “I’m glad you’re here, even though you really didn’t have to stay.”
