The Eldridge game is in six days.
Six days and I can feel every single one of them sitting on my chest like something with weight and teeth pressing down on me. I wake up Saturday morning with Jamie's arm around me and his heartbeat under my ear and for about thirty seconds I'm fine. More than fine. I’m giddy.
Until my brain catches up.
Six days. Fuck.
I lie there and stare at the wall and run through the Rhys Callahan patented self-talk routine.You're fine. You're stronger. You're not that person anymore. You’re not alone.It's working less and less the closer we get.
Jamie stirs behind me and his arm tightens slightly around me. He doesn't say anything, doesn't ask if I'm okay, just holds on, like he knows and is trying to comfort my anxiety the only way he can. I want to turn around and just stay here for six days until the game is over. Instead I say, "Cooper's having people over tonight."
"Okay," Jamie says, hesitantly.
"I want to go. With you."
"Sure."
"I want to get absolutely obliterated."
A longer pause. His arm doesn't move. "I’ll take care of you." Iturn over and look at him. He's watching me with that steady green gaze, hair messed up, pillow crease on his cheek, unbothered by this conversation.
"You're not going to tell me that's a bad idea?”
"Is it going to make you feel better?"
"Temporarily and irresponsibly, yes."
"Then it's not a bad idea and I support it."
I look at him, hopefully. "You'll come?"
"I already said yes."
I look at him for another second.
"You're different than I thought you were," I say, mostly to myself.
He blinks. "What?"
"Nothing. Shut up." I sit up and hit him in the face with a pillow. "Let's get breakfast."
????????
Cooper's is already loud by nine.
I take a shot of something clear immediately.
Jamie gets water.
Obviously.
I make my rounds. Talk to everyone. Be the version of myself that fills rooms — loud and funny and oh I’m fine, thank you for asking, everything is great, no I'm not panicking about playing my traumatic ex-captain's slash ex’s team, why would you even ask that.
Shot two. Shot three. Somewhere around shot four the noise in my head has simmered down to a dull sound and I think — oh. There it is. That's the thing I came for. I find Jamie at the kitchen counter talking to Kowalski and I lean against the counter beside him and tip my head back against the cabinet, gazing up.
"Hi," I say to the ceiling.
"Hi," Jamie says. "How many have you had?"
