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My head is spinning, trying to understand what the hell just happened.
“I’ve ruined everything.”
“Shh.” I rub her back as she cries. “It’s going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay. You still have me. You have your family, your job, your friends. We will figure this out. Together. And then everything will be better.”
* * *
“Danielle, you have to get out of bed today. I want you to come to work with me today. I think seeing the kids will do you a lot of good.”
“No. I’m staying in bed.”
“Honey, it’s been a month. I know it’s hard, but you can’t stay in this bed forever. You have to get out and join the real world again.”
“No.”
“I’ll take you to your favorite restaurant for lunch, and then tonight, we can drink wine and watch movies all night long. That will be fun, right?” I say, trying to use bribes to get her out of bed.
“No.”
I frown, and then I get desperate. I grab her ankles and start pulling her out of bed. She fights me the whole time, grabbing hold of her headboard to stay in bed.
“God, you’re freakishly strong.”
“I’m not going anywhere. I’m not up for seeing people who know what I did.”
“No one at my work knows what happened. They don’t know you or your story. And the kids sure as hell don’t. Just come with me. I could use a friend today.”
“What do you need a friend for? You have a perfect life that could never fuck you over. Your perfect job with your perfect boyfriend and your perfect body and perfect money.”
“Wes and I split up.”
She sits up just a little. “Good. That will just make room for a more perfect boyfriend to come in and replace him.”
“Come on, Danielle. I could really use a friend today. I need you.”
She throws the covers over her head. “You have plenty of friends. I can’t help you.”
* * *
Two months later, Danielle finally made an appearance. She got out of bed, got dressed, and walked right out of the condo without even saying a word to me.
I couldn’t help but smile from seeing her out of bed.
And then, two days later, the same. And then the next day and the next until she was getting out of bed more days than she was staying in it.
I thought she was doing better. I thought she’d finally decided one day that the men in her life were no longer the most important things. I thought she was choosing living.
I didn’t realize that she was still depressed. And that, when she started leaving, it was actually the most dangerous part of her healing.
“Hey, Danielle. I need to borrow that pink lace shirt that you said didn’t fit you anymore!” I yell through her bedroom door.
She doesn’t answer.
I knock. “Danielle?”
She doesn’t answer.
I smile when I look down at my watch. I’m running a bit late today. Danielle must have gone into work early. She works at a marketing company.
