“Thank you. I already hurled at the police station.” I sift through my bag and find the oral meds for the continuing migraine, trying to make a late-night injection unnecessary. The cop let me take one earlier, but I probably lost it along with my lunch in the station’s garbage can.
I swallow back the tablet, washing it down with large gulps of water, half of me knowing that hydration is another deterrent, the other half knowing if I’m drinking I don’t have to be talking.
“I need to go back to relieve Jeanie and George and make sure everything is set for closing.”
I nod, capping the bottle and setting it back in the cup holder.
“I called the bus company. They have your phone. I can swing by and get it on the way home. Paige is meeting us at the shop so you don’t have to wait for me.”
Again, a nod. Anything else is too much effort. Anything else will open the dam, letting everything spill out. And I can’t. I’m too tired, of all of it.
“He’ll understand, honey. All you have to do is tell him, and he’ll understand.”
This time I respond with a violent head shake, one that sets loose the salt-water blurring my vision.
“It’s too much,” I finally say, my voice a cross between a sob and whisper. “Getting lost would be one thing, Miles. But look at me. I’m a mess. No trigger other than stress and disorientation. I’m not ready. I can’t do it.” I wipe away the wetness from my eyes. “You weren’t there, in Chicago. I heard him telling his friends he couldn’t handle me, that he doesn’t do well with responsibility. How can I ask him to be responsible for this?” I motion to myself.
Miles extends his free hand to wrap around mine, giving me a gentle squeeze.
“Mags,” he says. “Do you know why I came to pick you up tonight?”
I sniffle and ask a reluctant, “Why?”
He kisses my hand. “It’s not because I feel obligated or responsible or whatever label you want to call it. It’s because I love you.”
My head falls against the cool glass of the window. “It’s not the same,” I tell him. “You loved me before any of this happened. You’re grandfathered in. I can’t ask him to take this on at the start, not when he’s finally choosing to stand on his own two feet.”
Miles nods slowly. I told him all about Griffin and AmeriCorps and having to live free of his parents’ financial support as soon as he graduates.
“I’m so proud of him,” I continue. “But I won’t get in the way of him finding a place for himself.”
Miles lets go of my hand and pushes a lock of hair behind my ear. “We’ll talk in the morning, after you sleep. Deal?”
I force a smile. “Sure. I’ll pay you back,” I add. “For the fine. And for coming to get me.”
Miles waves me off, but I know a thousand dollars isn’t an amount he can part with.
As we pull into the parking lot at the Royal Grounds café, I see George and Jeanie straightening up the tables and Paige behind the counter, wiping it down with a rag.
Miles nods at our little helpers and smiles, and the corner of my mouth lifts as well.
“I’ll meet you and Paige back at your place as soon as I’m done. We’re having a slumber party.”
My throat tightens at the thought of going home, where I was supposed to go with Griffin. “Okay,” I croak. “Thank you. For everything.”
We exit the car without another word and head inside. Paige beams, her smile obviously a reaction to seeing Miles, but when she turns to me her expression doesn’t falter.
“I just need to pee,” she says, bouncing with adrenaline or urgency or both. She runs around the counter to hug me before rushing to the staff bathroom in the back.
Miles thanks George and Jeanie for covering for him, and they both hug me on the way out, saying nothing more than “You’re welcome.”
Suddenly it’s two years ago, and I’m home after four weeks of hospitalization. Though memories of those first few months are sketchy, I haven’t forgotten the kid-glove treatment, the whispers when people thought I wasn’t listening or couldn’t hear.
She’ll never be the same.
What if she doesn’t recover?
I read if it happens to you once, you’re at increased risk of it happening again.
To those who know me, I’ll always be the toy they’re afraid to take out of the box in case it breaks. Those who don’t know me, they’ll run for the hills as soon as they find out. Hell, I would. I am the definition of high maintenance.
My eyes focus on Miles’s hand waving in front of my face.
“Hey…where’d you go? I asked if you wanted some caffeine to take with you.”
I blink him back into focus and shake my head.
“I just want to go to sleep.”
He folds me into his arms, and I sink against his chest.
“Paige and I will be with you, and I’ll take you to your appointment in the morning.”
“I can take the bus.” I try to protest. He’s done enough for me already. But he rubs my back, my hair, and squeezes me tighter.
“At some point, Maggie, you have to let others love you and help you without this guilt you carry around. You aren’t responsible for what happened to you or how you’ve had to alter your life to fit your recovery.”