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Three knocks sound on the door. “Brittany?”
My chest heaves, breathing becoming too much of a task for me. My sobs leave me gasping for air. It’s too much. I can’t. It’s all too much. The weight of this insurmountable sadness and nothingness all combined together is too much.
I lift my head when the shower curtain is shoved to the side. The look on Trace’s face is one I haven’t seen before.
“I can’t. I can’t,” I repeat, shaking my head. Although, I don’t know just what it is that I can’t do.
He steps into the shower to sit on the edge of the tub. “I know, Britt,” he says gently. He pulls me up into his lap. I bury my face into the crook of his neck, the tears falling faster now. I’m grateful that he’s here, but at the same time, I hate it. I hate that he’s seeing me like this. I hate that I feel so vulnerable. We lean one way and then I hear the sound of the water being turned off before a towel is wrapped around me.
Trace rubs my back. “All I want,” he begins in possibly the softest tone I’ve ever heard him use, “is for you to survive. Continue to breathe and do the basics to survive. That’s all I want right now. You can do that.” He runs his fingers through my hair, tilting my head back in the process so I can look at him. “It probably doesn’t feel like it, but you are strong; one of the strongest people I know. Survive now, so you can live later.”
“I’m tired of fighting for such little return.”
“It’s that way for now, Brittany. Gotta remember that. Want to know something?”
“What?” I ask to appease him.
“The only reason I got out of bed yesterday and today is because of you. Maybe I didn’t feel like talking, but I knew you were still there for me. You’ve given me strength when I’m running out. I depend on you too much. I’m right here,” he says quietly. “Depend on me too much.” I shake my head and frown, more tears falling at what he’s said. “Why is that upsetting you?”
“That’s not a good thing, Trace.”
“What? Why?”
“That’s what Mrs. Potter told me.”
He frowns. “Mrs. Potter? Your new therapist?”
I nod.
“Well, I disagree with her. So, here’s what we’re doing. You’re going to put your pajamas on. I’m bringing the pizza to my bed. We’re going to eat, take our pills, and go to sleep. I’m going to make you feel better than when you got here. Got it?”
All I can do is nod. But then, I realize I actually do need a shower. “I’m going to finish my shower, though.”
“Okay. Do that. I’ll bring your bag in here, so you’ll have your clothes.” Trace kisses my forehead, pushes me to stand, and then does the same. I watch him leave the bathroom, wondering what in the hell just happened
.
While Brittany showers, I put the doorknob back on the door. When she didn’t answer, I went and found a screwdriver to take it off. I was concerned when she wasn’t answering my texts, which is what led me to call Rebecca and go to their room with her. All I’ve wanted since last night was Brittany. This version of her definitely wasn’t the one I wanted, but any version will work.
I let Lily out, put Brittany’s bag in the bathroom, and bring the pizza and our drinks into my bedroom. I feel a little better than I have been, so I’m hoping it’s the start of an upswing. Now, to get Brittany there too. I change my clothes and am sitting in bed with Lily at my feet when Brittany comes out of the bathroom. She walks over, climbs into bed, and snuggles up to me.
“How have you been doing?” she asks.
“Not too bad.” I move the pizza box to my lap and pop it open. “Dig in.”
She’s slow to pick up a slice, but she does anyway, sitting up so she can eat. I grab a slice for myself and we eat in silence. Even though I know she has to be hungry, she still surprises me when she reaches for her second and then third slice. She’s done after that, though.
I set the box on the nightstand and pull her closer to me. She seems content with being quiet, but we can’t be just yet. “I’m sorry,” I say softly, rubbing her back, the up and down motion soothing us both.
“For what?”
Apologizing is hard enough, but explaining yourself might be even harder. An apology is what it is. An explanation must be told in a clear way as to not cause more confusion or make matters worse. On top of that, it is judged and might not be as easily accepted as an apology alone can be. I take a deep breath and get on with it.
“For Sunday when I told you not to come back. It was going to be a bad day for me and I didn’t want you to be around me like that. I shouldn’t have pushed you away.”
She mutters under her breath, but I can’t make out what she said.
“What?”
