DudeWheresMyTardis:UGH. I’ll think about it.
WeepingAngel:Atta girl! After all, what’s the worst that could happen?
I groan out loud. “I wish people would stop saying that. It’s just asking for trouble.”
Instead, I change the subject.
DudeWheresMyTardis:How’s today?
WeepingAngel:4. U?
DudeWheresMyTardis:2
Every time we check in, we track each other’s pain levels for the day on a scale of one to ten, ten being we probably wouldn’t be online at all. There are many of us chronic pain sufferers. Undiagnosed. Ignored. Made to feel like we are crazy or melodramatic. And while I understand that going too long without releasing the sickness causes my pain, I still don’t exactly understand how. I used to spend hours every day scouring online forums looking for anybody like me. When I met Angel, I understood that this was the hand I was dealt. At least I had some control in life. So many of the people I met along the way have no control. Pain in their bodies without anybody believing them. It’s a tragic population of the country swept under the rug. Angel is undiagnosed as well and shies away from talking about her own problems too much.
WeepingAngel:Good! Listen, I gotta run. Still on for Friday?
DudeWheresMyTardis:You know it. :D
My check-in with my only friend is over too soon, which means I have to face the rest of the evening alone. It’s a little after ten p.m. I wonder if Nathaniel is still at work. What does he do when he’s not being cute and funny and saving the world one brilliant idea at a time? Going home to a family of chubby-cheeked happy children and a wife with a big garden?
I shake my head and sip my tea, pushing thoughts of him away. No more of this silly crush nonsense.No point in dwelling.
I queue up some movie I’ve seen a dozen times and watch until I’m sleepy enough to trudge to bed.
I fall asleep telling myself the plan for the next day, thinking about more holes in the schedule for the Lite-Brite contract that may need clarification. My last conscious thought is of a dimpled smile and captivating hazel eyes. Then all too soon I’m ripped awake.
“No,” I gasp out.
I shoot up in bed. The room is filled with my ethereal glow. I’m panting. The sheets are twisted around my legs. The comforter lays in a pile on the floor. My chest heaves up and down and I’m embarrassed to find I’m tender with desire.
What was I dreaming about? But I know. A small room, a warm body pressed up behind me. Naughty words murmured in my ear.I need you.
“No.” I groan. I take deep breaths in and out, counting them until the glow is gone from my hands.
When I’m calm enough, I close my eyes and swallow. A new thought occurs to me.
“Ginger!” I scramble out of bed and into the hallway, slipping on the carpet.
Please be okay, please be okay,I chant over and over as I bolt toward him.
His tank bubbles quietly in the dark room, the dim green light a beacon.
“Ginger?” I call, frantic.
His tail floats unmoving and I can’t swallow.
“Ginger?” my voice cracks.
He swims out and gives me a decidedly pointed look before flicking his tail and going back around the plant he likes to sleep behind. I woke him and he is not pleased.
I slump forward in relief, gripping the counter. “I’m so sorry,” I say.
I can’t stay. Things are getting worse. This has to be part of the reason Grandma Sue never allowed us to stay in one place too long. I have to turn down Nathaniel’s offer. In the morning I would go and tell him thank you, but no. It was for the best.
* * *
My hands shake as I grab the short report I typed up for Nathaniel from the printer. I could have just emailed it, but I owed him a face-to-face conversation at the very least. This report should help his team even if I can’t stay. I hardly slept last night and I’m a nervous wreck.
