I smooth out the covers and frown when I notice the rest of the contents of the medicine cabinet are no longer strewn about the comforter. This morning feels like a million years ago. The whole thing is a haze. I look under the bed and find a mostly empty bottle of my attention deficit medication but nothing else. I rush to the garbage can, but all it contains is an empty bottle of vodka and the half loaf of bread I threw out because it was stale.
I tap my lips, panic starting to take over. “He couldn’t have taken them,” I murmur to myself, but as soon as the words are out, I have to wonder if I’m wrong about that.
I rush to the bathroom and open the medicine cabinet. Which is when I discover that it’s totally empty. All that’s left are the bottles I tossed in there this morning when I was in the middle of my temper tantrum. My hands are shaking as I pick them all up and spread them out on my bed. Which still smells like Aaron’s cologne.
I grab my purse and my overnight bag and dump them both out, then sift through the contents, pulling out my prescriptions and my backup medications, for those occasions when I forget or am at risk of running out. He can’t be right. I don’t have a problem. My doctor wouldn’t prescribe me medication I don’t need. Maybe I need to cool it on the caffeine pills, but other than that, everything else is harmless.
I try to be logical about this. Aaron is hypersensitive to this kind of thing, considering what he’s been through. He wasn’t trying to attack me; he thought he was helping. I know he cares about me the same way I care about him. At least I think he does.
I have an extra bottle of my attention deficit medication, leftovers from before my doctor increased the dose because it wasn’t as effective. And I have an extra week’s worth of the prescription for sleep, but it’s also at a lower dose. And even the current dose hasn’t been working all that well. Not recently. So I’ve had to take some over-the-counter stuff to help. I can up those if I need to, at least until I can get in to see my doctor. I’m lower on my antianxiety meds than I realized, and that worries me, because the more anxious I am, the more likely I am to struggle with sleeping. It’s a vicious cycle. One I had under control. And now everything is fucked up.
I force myself to take deep breaths. I need to stay calm. I can’t afford to burn through the rest of my Valium this weekend. Not because Aaron thinks he knows what’s best for me. At least I have my prescriptions. The rest is over-the-counter stuff that can easily be replaced.
I avoid his calls. Despite trying to be rational, I’m too upset to talk to him. I spend the night in my jammies, drinking martinis and trying to work on one of the new projects for the Stitches. I can’t focus on anything, though, and I can’t remember if I took my attention meds this morning or not.
On Saturday my brother comes knocking on my door at noon. I’m still in bed. I’m not sleeping; I’m just lying there, staring at the ceiling.
Van isn’t dissuaded when I tell him I’m not feeling well. In fact he lets himself in. The annoying part about living in the loft above my brother’s garage is that he can pretty much do as he pleases. Usually he gives me space, but I’ve blown him off since yesterday, and obviously he feels compelled to check on me.
“I’m not feeling good. I just want to suffer by myself.” I hug my pillow and snuggle deeper under my covers.
He doesn’t say anything, but I hear him cross the room and feel the dip of my mattress as he sits on the edge.
“I want to be alone.”
“Aaron’s pretty worried about you.”
“Aaron’s being dramatic, and he’s putting his own fears on me.”
“I’m worried about you, too,” he says softly.
I huff, annoyed that everyone is overreacting. “I’m fine. I’ve had a lot on my mind, and I’ve been having trouble sleeping, that’s all. I need a reset and I’ll be good.”
“Really, Teag, because the state of your car tells a totally different story. Did you think no one was going to notice all the dents and scratches?”
“I tried to swerve around a chipmunk and ended up in a ditch. It’s not a big deal.”
“You told Aaron that you took a corner too fast.”
I throw my hands up in the air. “What does it matter? It’s a few scratches and a couple of dents.”
He’s quiet for so long that I finally drag my gaze from the ceiling to his face. “It could have been another car that you hit, or a person. I know you’ve been struggling to figure yourself out, but the medication you’re taking isn’t the answer to the problem. It’s designed to help, not to fix things.”
“You think I don’t know that? I’m just going through a rough patch. Things have been intense lately, and I needed a little extra help, but I’m fine. I promise. I’ll prove it to you. I’ll only take my prescriptions. You can take everything else.”
“Maybe you should make an appointment with your doctor and see if things need to be adjusted.”
“I’ll call on Monday.”
“What if you call today and leave a message?”
“What’s the difference if I call now or on Monday? No one is in the office until then, anyway.” I hate that Aaron’s paranoia is affecting my brother now too.
“Maybe you should consider dropping a job. I know you don’t like to tell people no, but you’re working five days a week, and then you’ve got the design projects with Dillion, and you’re taking on the entire fall market. It’s a lot. Maybe too much.”
“I can give some of the market stuff to the hockey wives. They’re always happy to help.”
“It’s not just that, though, Teagan. You look exhausted, and you’ve lost weight. You need to take better care of yourself. No one is going to be upset if you need to take a few things off your plate. They’ll understand.”
“It’s been busy. But I’ll think about dropping a job.” I have everything under control with my projects, now that the planning phase is out of the way. I don’t want to give up any of my jobs. I like them all, and everyone tells me how amazing it’s been having me around.
He’s quiet for a few seconds. “Are you going to call Aaron?”
“Not today. He has family obligations.” It’s the truth, but even as I say it, I feel bad, because I was excited to see Jamie and I hate that I’m letting him down, even though I’m frustrated with Aaron.
He calls on Saturday and Sunday, but I let the messages go to voice mail. I want to talk to him, but I can’t do that with his family there. And I’m determined to prove to Van and Aaron that I can handle everything on my plate and that all I need are the prescriptions from my doctor. That I don’t need the energy drinks or the caffeine pills or the over-the-counter sleep medication.
But even with my regular prescription, I don’t sleep much on Saturday night. I expect it. The first couple of days when I stop taking the over-the-counter stuff are always rough. But Sunday night is just as bad, and it feels worse because Aaron isn’t there for me to curl up against.
I need to remember not to rely on anyone for my happiness but me. I don’t need Aaron. I’m fine on my own.