“I was fine. The additional thirty pounds felt great. I just stopped so I didn’t overdo it.”
She walked away and grabbed him a bottle of water from the old fridge they found at a garage sale soon after buying this ranch nearly two months ago. The refrigerator was ugly on the outside, but after Evan rigged it, it ran like new. Alik was sitting up on the bench by the time she walked back to him with the ice-cold drink. He took it and popped the lid off before handing it back to Meg. “You need to drink this, Meg. I’ll get another after I see you drink half.” He stared pointedly at the bottle he held out to her.
Meg didn’t feel as if she deserved cool water.
She didn’t feel as if she deserved to speak, or eat or have clean clothes. She was hanging on to her sanity with her splitting fingernails and right about now, Meg was wondering how blissful it would feel to just let go.
Alik was still breathing pretty hard. Sweat was pouring down his neck and chest. The whisk-away T-shirt couldn’t keep up with the fluids he was losing. He was going to get dehydrated. She could feel his thirst. She wanted him to drink the damn water.
He knew what he was doing. He knew Meg wouldn’t let him hurt himself, so he was forcing her to take care of herself before he would take care of his needs.
Huffing angrily, she yanked the bottle from his outstretched hands, splashing some crystal fluid onto the brown dirt between our feet. Putting the plastic to her lips, she tossed her head back, guzzled deeply, making Alik watch her swallow before stopping and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Meg’s stomach cramped painfully at the icy onslaught, but was glad for the ache.
Nodding, Alik went to retrieve his own bottle of water, opened it and sipped thoughtfully.
“So why did you spot me when I didn’t signal the need for help?”
Peeling the label off the bottle in her hands, she only offered a shrug.
“You don’t like to see me struggle, do you?”
Meg said nothing.
“You don’t want anyone you love to struggle, and you’ll do anything you can to help them—to take away their pain, even if it means you take it on for them.”
She set the half-empty bottle down on a fold out table that held clean towels and turned her back to Alik “Meg, you helped spot me because you were worried I was struggling. You only caved and drank the water because I threatened not to drink until you did.”
Meg didn’t know what he expected her to say. “Great, sense. Your powers of perception demonstrate your profound wisdom,” she bit, angry with him for figuring her out so easily.
“Why do you think it’s any different for the people who care about you? When Evan, Cole and I see you struggle, we want to help you,” he said calmly.
“You can’t. We’ve been over this before, Alik. No one can help me. I’m going to just have to learn to live with this,” She motioned to her head.
“The nightmares, how often are you having them?” Alik was studying her face, so she turned away. She knew it was no use. He already scrutinized the dark circles under her eyes, the gaunt hollows of her cheekbones, the shakes she could not control in her formerly steady hands.
Meg felt the anger simmer and shift to desperation. Staring down at her dusty running shoes, she gave in. “It would be easier to count the handful of nights I haven’t had them.”
“You’re not eating enough, or drinking enough fluids. You’re not able to sleep. Even when you’re up, you look like you’re lost in a walking nightmare,” Alik shook his head, worry filling his eyes.
“And you’re running miles by yourself in the middle of the night and working out like you’re training for the Iditarod. The family is talking about staging an intervention, Meg. You look strung out; something’s gotta give,” he said with sincerity barely disguising the murky fear beneath.
“What do you want me to do, Alik?” Meg felt her eyes sting. She was too dehydrated to cry and she was frustrated to know her efforts to hide pain had been futile.
Her family was on to her.
“I want you to talk to us and let us help you. We’ll figure something out. We’re your family, Meg. We’re here to share your burden.”
She slumped, exhausted, in one of the metal fold-out chairs nearby and breathed the earthy smell of the barn. Her fingernails were chewed to bloody half moons. She stared at them for a moment before speaking. “Maybe after I clean up and try to take a nap. I can’t talk right now. I’m too,” she gulped still staring at her raw, shaking fingers, “I’m too messed up right now.”
Meg stood slowly and limped toward the door. Alik didn’t try to stop her, but she could feel his worry wrap around like mist.