Page 27 of Relapse

I’d filled her in already. I was sure I had. Last night, when I got home. Or this morning. There wasn’t much difference anymore. I’d explained about the cops—their voices, the way they looked at me strangely, like a mangled animal, and what they said about my parents.

I hadn’t told her about Noah. Or the kiss we shared. That part stayed locked away, buzzing under my skin. If I closed my eyes tight enough, I could still feel him there. Pressing his body into mine. His lips and his touch were like fire.

Chelsea had wanted to come right after my first phone call. I think she might have even tried. I remembered saying no. I remembered stepping into the shower, running it for too long, the water going cold. I remembered sleeping, or something like it. Just a few hours I believe. Maybe none at all.

When I woke up, I told her to come by and help me get ready for the flight.

“I’m going with you,” she murmured. “I even brought my own suitcase.”

Suitcase? Shit. Had I packed enough in the duffle bag? It was really small in comparison to full luggage. I dumped everything out on my bed. Started over.

“Chelsea, tickets are crazy priced right now. And I might have a huge layover. You have school and work-study.” The words came out precisely, just like old Delane would have said them. Always putting others before herself.

School. Saying it out loud triggered the memory for me. I glanced to the side, to my laptop sitting nicely on the dresser. Should I email my professors? My head was so muddled.

“I don’t give a fuck about school,” Chelsea huffed, plopping down on the bed next to me. “Delane, I care about you. I don’t know if…if you should go by yourself.”

I ignored her and started counting again. Three shirts. A dress. Pair of pants. Shorts. Would it be cold there? I hadn’t considered the weather at all. Maybe I should check…

“Delane!” Chelsea shouted, grabbing my arms. “Look at you, honey. You can’t go alone.”

I stared at her. Stupidly. She didn’t get it. She couldn’t understand that there was no accepting this. If I did, then it would be the end of me. If I acknowledged this as the truth, then I was done. Over. My life was over.

My parents were my everything. They were all I had. No siblings. Nothing. Chelsea was the closest I had to anything “family” here.

Her. And Noah.

“Chels,” I said slowly. I couldn’t cry. Not yet. It wasn’t set in stone until I knew for sure. Not until my eyes could see it. “My aunt is supposed to meet me at the airport. I won’t be by myself for very long. The flight is four hours.”

Chelsea kept talking, but her words arrived out of order. I caught pieces of them, little scraps of paper floating past that I needed to paste together.

“Hey. Look at me.”

I was looking at her. I thought. Her face kept softening and tightening, like she was choosing which version of herself to show me.

“I’m here,” she said. “You’re okay.”

‘Okay’ was a big word. I nodded my fake agreement anyway. I was breathing hard. I hadn’t realized.

She said my name. Once. Twice. Too many times. It started to sound wrong in her mouth, like my name belonged to someone else and she was borrowing it.

“What day is it?” she asked me.

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. I knew this. I had to know this. The answer was right there, just behind my eyes, but every time I reached for it, it moved.

Crap. I didn’t fucking know. I couldn’t have told her the day of the week if she’d asked.

Chelsea didn’t rush me. That made it worse.

“That’s okay,” she said quickly. “You don’t have to know the answer to that. You’re at home. You got back early this morning after the crazy shit that happened at the Hansen’s.”

I frowned. That didn’t feel right. I wanted to tell her that. I wanted to tell her about the parts she was missing, but my thoughts kept folding in on themselves.

She reached for my wrist. Her hand was warm. I focused on that, because it was solid, because it didn’t flicker like the rest of the thoughts dancing about my head did.

“Can you feel me?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said, even though I wasn’t sure what she meant.