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“Yeah.”
I hang up and drive over there, more worried than I’ve been since I moved here. FC relapsed. How in the world did this happen? Why would he think I would turn into Lila? That is madness. There’s not a mean bone in my body. Have I given him some kind of indicator that I would hit him and abuse him like she did?
There are three empty tequila bottles scattered on the living room floor. I find FC in the bathroom, hunched over the toilet. He lifts his head and groans when he see
s me.
“Where’s Sawyer?” I ask.
“At my parents’,” he slurs.
I sit down on the edge of the tub. “What happened, FC? You know I’m not Lila. I’m not anything like her.”
He groans again. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“We need to.”
He sits up and leans against the cabinet under the sink. “You were snappy and closed off this morning and it just took me back to when I was with Lila. I spiraled after that.” FC shakes his head. “It terrified me to think about being in that position again.”
“But you aren’t,” I point out. “You won’t be.”
“It’s like your anxiety, Idaline; sometimes logic doesn’t matter.” He buries his face in his hands with a sigh. “Even dead, she’s fucking me over.”
If something like this morning could cause him to relapse so easily, I’m terrified about what that means for our future. How will he react to an actual argument? We can’t have him relapsing every time. His relationship with Lila left lasting effects that could do some serious damage not only to our relationship but to him as well.
“I think you should go talk to someone,” I say quietly. “This can’t happen every time we have a minor argument or I get flustered with whatever is happening with my life and I take it out on you. You need help and I’m not sure we can get you through this, just the two of us.”
He lifts his head and pierces me with a sad, guilty gaze. He looks broken and scared.
“I’m not going anywhere, FC,” I reassure him before he can say anything. “Will you get counseling?”
“Yeah,” he says with a nod. “Of course. Anything for us.”
I shake my head. “No. This is for you.”
“Do you hate me?” he whispers.
I slide down to sit next to him as best I can. He makes me feel better by wrapping his arms around me. “FC, I could never hate you. I’m not even disappointed. I’m worried about you and our future if we don’t fix our issues.”
“We’ll fix everything. I promise. We’re soulmates. We have to fix things and make it through this.” There’s a determination in his voice that makes me happy and relieved.
“Why don’t we pick up, go to my apartment for a bit, and later get Sawyer?”
FC nods. I help him stand, leave him while he brushes his teeth to throw away the evidence of his drinking, and return to help him walk if he needs it. Maybe we can sober him up relatively quickly so we won’t have to explain anything to his parents. I’ll have to keep a good eye on him from now on too. Now that he’s relapsed, there’s a greater chance he’ll do so again in the following weeks.
Once we arrive at my new apartment, he barely looks around. He drops onto the couch and falls asleep almost immediately. Feeling pretty exhausted myself since FC was right and I didn’t sleep after I woke up from my nightmare, I go to my bedroom and lie down. I have an appointment with Mr. Tucker again on Monday and I definitely need a session. I’m beyond exhausted, absolutely worn out. The nightmares aren’t going away. Now, FC has had a setback.
It almost feels like we’re back at square one, waiting for that one far-off day to be happy and have all the major kinks out of our relationship. Why can’t we be happy already? Why is everything so hard with FC? This is supposed to work. My soul aches for us, but seriously for FC. He’s had such a hard time and apparently, I’ve made things harder instead of easier.
But at least I know we’re both still dedicated and plan to make things work.
When things finally get to the really good times instead of only moments, I’ll be much happier than I am now. Those are the times I daydream about as I do my best to fall asleep. Times when my anxiety is more manageable. Times when FC can breathe easier and not so easily fall into a relapse. Times when we’re a cohesive family with Sawyer instead of me still being an outsider. Time when we can go two months without incident.
That’s the dream right now.
“Idaline,” FC whispers as he cuddles against me. “I feel like shit.”
“You should,” I reply bluntly. “I was sleeping.”
