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Is she okay?
Is she getting upset?
Is the ghost of Monty watching her in the bathroom like the sick pervert he was?
The sound of the sheetrock cracking echoes through the room and my eyes close as my head falls back.Motherfucker.
“Okay, that’s the third piece you’ve damaged today,” Cam tells me. “At this rate, all the walls are going to be made of spackle.”
I huff. “Well maybe ifsomeonewasn’t hogging the nail gun…”
He chuckles, coming over and finishing this piece for me. “Yeah, we’re not doing this. That’s not the issue and you know it. What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” I say as I run my hands over my face. “Laiken is just…a lot right now.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” he replies sadly. “What’s she doing now?”
A part of me considers not telling him at all. He’s going to be just as pissed off as I was. Even Mali agreed it’s a bad idea. But my anger has subsided now, and all that’s left is worry.
I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “She’s seeing Monty’s mom for lunch today.”
His jaw drops. “Has she lost her goddamn mind?”
“Yeah, I’m not answering that.”
He looks around, shaking his head while he tries to figure her out. But good luck. I’ve been trying to do that for the last couple weeks. It’s not going very well.
“I’m worried about her, H,” he tells me.
I sit on the stepstool. “Yeah. Me too.”
It’s quiet for a moment, both of us thinking about the same thing. I had hoped that she would go back to how she was before this in the same timeframe that Mali did. And in a couple ways, she has. She finally went back to work after taking four days off and I don’t have to force her to eat anymore. But in other ways, she seems dead inside.
It's like there’s a piece of her that never left that island, and that scares the shit out of me.
“I don’t know, man,” Cam murmurs. “Maybe it’s time to get her some help.Professionalhelp.”
My eyes narrow at him. “What?”
“There are a few places I found that we can bring her to for an evaluation.” He pulls out his phone and starts messing with it. “They specialize in grief counseling, and if they admit her, she would only have to stay for a few weeks before they transition her into outpatient therapy.”
I’m shaking my head before he’s even finished. “No. Absolutely not.”
His shoulders sag in defeat. “Hayes, she’s crumbling.”
“You think I don’t know that?” I snap. “Fucking Christ, I have to see it every day. But the girl she was before this is in there somewhere. I know it. And I’m not going to abandon her by shipping her off to some loony bin.”
“H,” he tries, but I have no interest in whatever else he has to say.
“No. Okay? I said no. She’s my wife, and I’ll be the one to take care of her. End of fucking story.”
Throwing his hands in the air, he looks frustrated, but he gives up—for now, at least.
I walk over to the table where I left my phone and check the time, but I see a text from Laiken waiting for me.
Hey. Leaving lunch. Just want you to know that I love you and I’m sorry about earlier. We’ll talk tonight.
My chest swells a bit. Moments like these are when I see the old her still managing to shine through. The message is from an hour ago, which means she’s probably at work by now. Still, I type out a response and send it for when she gets done.
