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“Forever.”
TWENTY-FOUR
NOW, WINTER
I avoided going to Maddie and Elliot’s place—apartment and almost house—for a few weeks. I told Maddie that I was swamped at work, starting new projects and working on a few proposals to present in the upcoming months. Part of it was true. I was busy and working on new materials…but I had a whole team working with me. I’m sure she knows that I’m full of shit but she also knows when I need space. Three weeks is the longest we’ve gone without seeing each other since elementary school.
A knock on the door startles me. I close my eyes and sigh. I’m eating out of a tub of ice cream while watching a true crime documentary. These days I hate the sappy, warm and fuzzy shows. Give me disturbingly creepy shows that haunt your dreams.
I get up and walk to the door, and look through the peephole.
Madeline.
I open it with a pointed look on my face, matching the one on hers.
“Three weeks, Ana?” she asks, arms crossed. “That’s too long. Stop suffering in silence and just talk to me, okay?”
“I know—” I start, but she starts talking again.
“I hate not knowing how to help you. I hate feeling so helpless on the sidelines, not wanting to push you too far or overwhelm you, but wanting to say the right thing and be there for you when I can. I know you’re still going to therapy and I’m so happy you’re still sticking with that. I’m happy that the medication you take has helped a lot too, but I really wish that you would talk to me. Not just about work, and our families, and random things we can always fill the time with, but really talk.”
“You’re—” I try again.
“I don’t want to push you, really I don’t. But I’ve been thinking that maybe you need a little push just to start talking. To start living again. Not just existing, Ana.” Her voice cracks and her eyes line with silver. “I can’t imagine the pain you’re feeling. I’ll never pretend to understand what you’re going through, but I wish you would let me back in. Talk to me, and maybe I can’t help at all but at least you might feel a little less heavy and full of sadness and pain. Please just let me…just talk to me,” she finishes in a small voice.
I stare at her, making sure she’s done and doesn’t interrupt me again. “Are you done interrupting me?”
“For the rest of our lives? No. At this moment? Yes,” she says a bit sheepishly.
“Come in.”
I grab another spoon so we can both eat ice cream out of the container. She is avoiding looking at the TV because these kinds of shows scare her. I offer to put something else on but she says she’s fine.
“Tell me what’s going on in your head,” Maddie says, earnestly.
I sit for a moment, not answering. I’ve been responding robotically for so long now, I don’t think I even know how to have a normal conversation. I don’t know how to communicate anymore. I used to speak my mind so freely, but now it’s a jumbled mess steeped in darkness and sorrow.
Just talk to me, Maddie had said.
“I was texting with David, after he had brought the food and I asked for his number. It started as me thanking him and before I knew it we were just texting,” I start.
She watches, her eyes wide in earnest interest and concern. I continue, “It went on all day, and then something triggered me and I stopped. I realized that I was enjoying myself. Enjoying talking to him. I wasn’t thinking about Hayden. My mind was on David.” The words are a struggle to voice aloud.
“You felt like you were betraying Hayden?” Maddie offers. I take a deep breath, thankful that she knows me so well. I nod, looking up to attempt to stop the tears coming.
“I got sick. I literally got sick and just fell apart. I completely ghosted David. I haven’t talked to him since,” I admit.
“Do you like David?” she asks carefully.
“No,” I say quickly. “I mean, he’s nice and he seems like a good guy, but I don’t know him. I was enjoying our conversation. It felt natural and that scared me. It made me feel confused and guilty.”
Maddie nods her head understandingly. “I can imagine.”
“It,” I pause, trying to make sense of my scattered and overwhelming thoughts. “I was enjoying myself. Maybe even flirting,” my gut lurches at that word, “with him and then I just fell apart.”
“I’m so sorry, Ana. I had no idea,” she whispers. “I’m sorry you’ve been going through that, and that you’re still going through it now.”
I shake my head, trying to wave her off. “I suffer in silence, it’s my thing now.”
