But I try one last time.
Summer:Just making sure you aren’t dead. Are you dead?
I drop my phone into my lap and focus on the disappearing brake lights in front of me as the traffic slowly pulls forward through the intersection. Despite being only six p.m., it feels like midnight. Thank you, winter, for being the darkest time of the year and officially making me depressed.
No, that’s all wrong.Winterisn’t making me depressed. I love winter—usually—and all the things that come with this time of year. So I can’t understand why I feel so sad and lonely. But I’m an adult now, and maybe part of being an adult is being depressed around the holidays, which has never happened to me before. I’ve always made sure I had plenty to do and someone to do it with.
Last year, my boyfriend’s name was Gil—a terrible name, but he was in town for the winter as a ski instructor and made it to most of my Christmas events as my date. I knew the whole time that the relationship wasn’t permanent. But it was better than being alone.
The Christmas before that, I spent the holidays with Bart. He graduated high school two years after me and then left for college but was home from USC for winter break. It was just enough time for me to feel like I had someone.
But this Christmas, I thought I had more thansomeone. I thought Justin and I would spend our first of many Christmases together.
My phone screen lights up, and I impatiently wait until the next stoplight to read the text.
Justin:Sorry I haven’t called you back. The website crashed, and we’ve been working nonstop to get it up and running again. Can you forgive me? I miss you and want to make it up to you. Meet me at my place tonight for dinner?
And suddenly, I’m no longer depressed. I guess it wasn’t seasonal depression. More like boyfriend-is-too-busy-for-me depression. But Justin misses me and wants to make it up to me, so basically, I’m all better. No judgment, please. I’m trying to make this relationship work.
Summer:I’m sorry about your website. I bet that was really stressful. You deserve a night off. Dinner sounds great. I’ll pick up your favorite and meet you there in twenty minutes.
Justin:Okay, leaving soon. See you in a bit.
And just like that, the world is right again.
CALEB
* * *
I know better than this.
Going from sea level to a 12,000-foot elevation at the top of the ski lift in the span of twenty-four hours is bound to mess you up with altitude sickness.
And I’m messed up.
My head is pounding.
My stomach is weak.
I’m tired, dizzy, and lightheaded.
I can’t even think straight.
I don’t know how I made it off the mountain and back to Justin’s condo in one piece. But things have definitely worsened since I came home and laid down.
I hold my head as I walk down the hall to the kitchen, using my other hand to steady myself against the wall as I slowly put one foot in front of the other.
Everything is dark.
I like dark.
Dark doesn’t hurt my pounding head.
I need medicine.
Medicine.That’s a silly word.
“Medi-sinny,” I say the word out loud, how it’s spelled in my brain. “That doesn’t sound right.” I shake my head, even though it hurts.
