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I’m crying too hard to answer. Dad says something and we start walking down another hallway. We’re sitting in one of the commons areas, I guess, because other patients glance our way. We sit down on the couch with me in the middle and my parents hug me tight.
“I wanna go home,” I sob.
“I know,” Dad says, “but you still have four days to go and you haven’t exactly shown them that you’re capable.”
That’s such bullshit. They hold me for a little longer before Mom breaks the silence. My crying has calmed down some and she pushes my hair away from my face, wiping my cheeks.
“Will you tell us what happened?”
I lean against her, resting my head on her shoulder so I don’t have to look at her. “I’m so tired, Mom.”
“Please, Brittany,” my dad quietly begs. “We want to understand.”
“I don’t even understand it. I was driving and then I couldn’t stop thinking about crashing. I went to Trace’s to tell him, but he broke up with me, so I left and called Dr. Gunner. Now, here I am.”
“That’s why you didn’t want us to call him,” she says.
I nod, the stupid tears coming harder. “He thinks we were making each other worse. It doesn’t make sense. How can he go from inviting me over and letting me stay over there to all of a sudden breaking up with me?”
It doesn’t make any sense at all.
I feel like I’m still standing on my front porch watching her drive away. I was so sure I made the right decision and all I’ve done since she left is worry that it might not have been. I certainly don’t feel any better. I can’t stop thinking about how we were making each other worse and how I most definitely didn’t want to lie to her, but I also didn’t want to tell her.
Honestly, I’m surprised I haven’t heard from her. But then again, why would she want to talk to me after what happened? My phone rings and I pick it up, surprised that it’s a call from Will.
“Hey,” I answer.
“Hey, how’s it going?”
I glance down at Lily, who is lying at my feet. “Okay, I guess. You?”
“Same as usual. Look, I’m in town on some business, and I thought I’d check in on you if you were up to it.”
“You’re in town?”
“Yeah, and I’m hungry. Aren’t you going to meet your old friend for lunch?”
I haven’t left the house since Brittany left and I don’t feel like doing it today. “Sure,” I say anyway. There’s a very good possibility that I’m going to go crazy if I stay here much longer. I tell Will where he can meet me and then get out of bed. As I shower, that whisper of thought enters my head again and I try to ignore it.
Now I know for sure that I made the right decision with Brittany. Having suicidal thoughts is one thing. But with my history? I don’t want her here while I deal with it. I don’t want her help. I don’t want her to know. I can still remember the look on my dad’s face when I landed in Texas for my mom’s funeral. He was miserable, grief-stricken, and felt guilty. He knew about my mom’s struggles with depression, she confessed to him her darkest thoughts of suicide, and he couldn’t help her. He couldn’t stop her in time.
Not that I want to commit the act, despite my thoughts, but I remember how my mom was worrying about my dad. She didn’t tell me what she was considering or what exactly she was worried about. I can only assume it was how she was affecting him since she told him. It took years afterward to put two and two together. I don’t want to do to Brittany what my mom did to my dad. Dad couldn’t handle knowing, and I don’t think Brittany could either. I’ve always wondered if Mom regretted telling Dad and if that played a part in her final decision.
Shaking my head, I clear my thoughts. I don’t want to think about my parents. I don’t wan
t to think about suicide. I don’t want to think about Brittany. I blank my mind and am careful to focus solely on each task at hand. Soon, I’m pulling up to a restaurant and meeting Will out front.
“You look like shit,” he says with a grin.
“Feeling that way too,” I reply as we clap each other on the back in a quick hug.
His grin is gone now. “Sounds like it’s a good thing I’m in town then.”
“Why are you here?” I ask, opening the door. “It’s the weekend. What business could you have?” I’m tempted to ask if he’s heard from Brittany, but Will wouldn’t cross that line and tell me anything.
Will shrugs. “Emergency business, but it’s all handled now. You know me, always going the extra mile for my clients.” The waitress leads us to a table and we sit. “How are things with you, Trace? Still going well with the girlfriend?”
“No girlfriend, and I already told you things are shit with me.”
