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She shifts to lie on her side and adjusts her pillow underneath her head. “Like I’m going insane, and,” she hesitates, “like we’re not the same.”
“Why do you think that? You don’t need to worry about us, Britt.”
“I don’t know. I feel like we talked more before you moved here. Like, you never really talk to me about how you’re feeling. Not directly anyway. If it wasn’t for your tells most of the time, I wouldn’t know. Right now, how are you feeling?”
“Like I could use some sleep. I’ve gotten maybe six hours the past two nights. I’ll probably have another med change to see if that’ll help because I’m not doing well at all. See, I can talk to you.”
She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, after you were prompted.”
Her deadpan tone and overall reaction causes me to crack a smile.
“Don’t smile at me like that. You’ll make me go all soft and I’m trying to be serious.”
“I know, and I hear you. You’re still cute.”
She rolls her eyes again. “Anything in particular on your mind, since you can’t sleep either?”
That causes me to lose my smile. “I was thinking about what I would’ve done if they fired me.”
“I’m glad they didn’t.”
“Mr. Hanifin wasn’t happy to have to deal with it, that’s for sure.”
“Who would’ve reported you, though? Is it really that big of a deal? I mean, you could’ve been there as an emergency or something, right?”
“He wouldn’t tell me who it was, so I don’t know,” I say.
“Try not to think about it. Maybe if you start talking, you’ll bore us both to sleep.” She yawns, and it’s not a fake one. “See? Already working.”
Despite not feeling like it, I laugh. “What do you want me to tell you this time?”
“Tell me about the next date you’re taking me on. Shame on you to be dating me this long and for us to have so few dates.”
“Pizza, Dateline, and sex doesn’t count as a date?” I tease.
“Only sometimes.”
So, I start to tell her about this elaborate, extravagant date that might never happen, but it’s nice to dream about. Turns out, I can even bore myself to sleep. Unfortunately, I wake up two hours later. Brittany gets more sleep, and for that, I’m thankful. One of us should get a decent rest.
Hours later, she wakes up to rush to the bathroom. It’s going to be a bad day for us both, it seems. I’ve never been worried about going into work, but I am. Even though my job has been saved, I wonder if my coworkers know and what they think of me now. They don’t know I have a girlfriend, much less that she’s a student and I’ve been sneaking into her dorm.
My chest aches, hurting so bad I would think I’m having a heart attack if I didn’t know better. It’s anxiety. Brittany vomits and I get chest pains. Not a day in my working life have I worried about going into work, and especially not enough to have a fucking panic attack. I hear the toilet flush and Brittany walks back into the room a few moments later.
“You didn’t follow me.” It’s not an accusation or show of disappointment. It’s simply a statement. Her eyes fall and I realize she’s watching me grip my neck. Brittany comes over, climbs onto the bed, and straddles my lap. She gently tugs my hand away and holds it tightly in hers. “I’ve done this to you.”
I lean back against the headboard. “No, you didn’t,” I sigh. “Anxiety and depression go hand-in-hand.”
“It didn’t with you until you started dating me.”
“Britt, it’s not because of you, so stop. It’s more important to convince me to get out of bed and go to work. Give me three good reasons.”
“You’ll feel better once you’re there. It’ll be worse if you push it off. And,” she pauses before thinking of a third reason, “shower sex.”
I eye her skeptically. It all sounds too easy. “You want to have sex?” She normally doesn’t when she’s all riled up from her anxiety.
She shrugs. “I can suffer through it for you.” Brittany fails to hold back a small smile, which makes me laugh.
“You’re a terrible girlfriend. Get up, so I can shower. I’m not going to make you suffer through the sex with me.” I playfully slap her ass when she doesn’t move.
