Afterwards, I sat on the hard tiles of the bathroom floor,draped over the toilet, my head resting on my arm. I’d thought that if I didthe interview at last, things would go back to normal, and there was a chance Imight see Logan again. But obviously, that wasn’t going to happen.
Whether I liked it or not, I was leading a much differentsort of life now.
It was time to consign Logan to the past...
CHAPTER TEN
Two weeks have passed since the infamoussick-in-the-handbag incident and I still haven’t come out of hiding.
But Madison can be very persuasive.
‘You’re coming and that’s an order!’ She poses in the middleof the living room, hands on hips, grinning down at me. ‘I’m not taking no foran answer this time.’
Grabbing a cushion, I wrap my arms around it, frowning up ather from my safe nest in the corner of the sofa. Dad, who answered the door,has discreetly left us alone, probably hoping Madison can accomplish what hassingularly defeated him ever since the accident: persuading me to leave thehouse.
‘We’re meeting at the café at seven tomorrow night,’ she’ssaying. ‘It’s Fen’s turn to be host. I’ll call for you on my way, okay? Or wecan meet up beforehand?’
‘The thing is...’ I hesitate, my stomachshifting uneasily. ‘I need to have my snack at seven-thirty.’
‘What?’ Madison looks at me as if I’m crazy. ‘You can have asnack at the cafe. I’m sure there’ll be crisps and stuff.’
I shake my head, feeling panic rising up because she doesn’tunderstand. No one does. ‘It needs to be protein. And I must eat at half-pastseven.’
‘Really? Why?’ Looking genuinely curious, she sits down,facing me on the sofa.
I sigh. How do I explain without sounding really weird? ‘Well...I’ve started eating small meals, little and often, at specific times of the day.I’ve realised I can’t afford to upset my routine.’ I shrug helplessly. ‘If Ideviate from my routine even a little bit, my hormones will get out of synchand I’ll get a migraine.’ Hearing myself saying it out loud, it does actuallysound a bit mad. It’s no wonder Madison’s looking mystified. But I’ve done alot of research into migraine triggers – I must be the country’s main expert bynow – and one of the big dangers is not eating regularly. Last week, I got intoa really good book and I totally forgot about lunch. I panicked when I realised– and sure enough, I could feel the dreaded tapping at my temples which thenquickly escalated into a full-blown attack that left me bedridden and in totalagony for two whole days.
I shrug. ‘It’s just not worth the risk.’
She nods, considering this. ‘Okay. Well, how about you packa protein snack and bring it with you, and eat it as soon as you get there? Itseems a shame for you to miss out on the fun just because of your – um –schedule.’
I feel a pang of sadness. She’s right, of course. I’mmissing out on so much these days.
Logan...
‘Don’t you think so?’ she urges softly.
‘I guess.’ Still, I hesitate, hugging the cushion tightly. ‘Also,I really can’t drink.’ I stare up at her, willing her to understand. ‘Alcoholis theworstfor bringing on a migraine. And everyone will be havingwine.’
‘So you can have orange juice instead,’ she says gently.
I shrug uselessly. ‘Citrus is also bad for migraine.’
‘Okay. How about tonic water? You can pretend it’s gin.’ Shesighs. ‘Look, I don’t mean to order you about. It’s just I’m really worried thatyou’re becoming a hermit, Martha. And that’s not like you at all.’
I muster a feeble grin. ‘Yes, you do.’
‘What?’
‘Mean to order me about.’ I shrug. ‘But that’s okay. Maybe it’swhat I need.’
‘Some firm direction? Yes, I think you do. Otherwise you’rein danger of disappearing into this sofa of yours and never emerging again.’She gives me a sad smile. ‘Martha, you can’t let your fear of having a migrainestop you from living your life.’ She shrugs. ‘Perhaps you need to think aboutgetting a job? You know, if you’re not able to write at the moment?’
Panic squeezes my insides. Ajob? Am I even wellenough to get back to work? OfcourseI want to get back to the way Iwas, but she doesn’t understand. It’s easier said than done. But she’s right,of course. I can’t hide away doing deep breathing exercises, popping migrainepills and being terrorised by food forever... can I? I needto at leasttryto join the rest of the human race beyond my front door...
‘Okay,’ I hear myself whisper. ‘I’ll come.’
*****
