“Yeah.” I hold up my finger to him, so he won’t open the door yet. “Look, Mom, he’s so good for me. He treats me well and keeps me sane. Can we please talk about it later? He’s had a bad day, and I’ve come to see him because I help keep him sane, too.”
“Okay,” she agrees. “We’re still coming up next month, and we expect to see him.”
“Brittany, just be careful and take things slow, okay?” Dad tells me.
“I will,” I promise. “I’ll talk to y’all later. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
I hang up and Trace opens the door as soon as I pull my phone away from my ear. He pulls me into his arms. “What’s wrong, Britt?” he whispers.
“How bad was your bad day?” I murmur into his chest instead of answering.
“Not bad enough that I don’t want to know what’s wrong.”
Lily starts pressing her nose against my leg to get my attention. I sigh and pull away from Trace to pet her. “Nothing is really wrong.” I look up at him when Lily walks away from me to explore the yard some more. “My parents know, but it’s okay,” I rush to say when his hand starts rising to grip his neck. I grab it and hold it in mine. “I accidentally said your name, so then Mom started asking questions. She thought I was having phone appointments with you, and I had to explain to her what was actually going on.”
“Did they question my professionalism from when you were my client?” he interrupts.
“No, they never questioned that. Their biggest worry was that they thought you were still married. They’re okay with it, and they want to see you when they visit me next month.” He takes a big breath. “I’m sorry,” I finish.
“Don’t be. It was an accident, but everything has turned out fine if they’re okay with it. I was expecting a panic attack about school or something, so you caught me off guard. Let’s go inside and eat dinner.” He pulls me aside, so he can reach in to grab my bag and purse for me. “Lily, house,” he calls to get her running toward the front door. Trace shuts my car door, takes my hand, and leads me to the house. He takes my things to his room before joining me in the kitchen.
“Want to talk about your day?” I ask, grabbing a slice of pizza to put on my paper towel and sliding the fried pickles between us.
Trace shrugs. “Wanted to call the grinch the moment I woke up.” I can’t help but smile at him using my phrase. My smile fades once he continues with, “And it’s worse now. I thought calling you might help. I’m not in the mood to go anywhere though.”
“In the mood to watch me do homework? I have some to finish up, and then we can do whatever you want.”
“I was thinking of fixing those Ritz crackers, peanut butter, and marshmallows, and then watching a movie in the recliner with you. If Lily will let you sit with me, that is.” He leans down to rub her head since she’s lying next to his seat.
“I’ll push her off,” I lie.
“You can share, can’t you, girl?” He rubs behind her ear, and she yawns. “How was your day?” Trace lifts his head, finally leaving the dog alone.
“Been worrying a lot, but only two attacks. I’m calling it a good day.”
“Worrying about your appointment in the morning?”
I nod. “Mostly, but not too much. Just a normal amount.”
“It’ll be fine,” he says, probably for the tenth time.
We finish eating in silence, and then I wrap up my homework at the kitchen table while Trace fixes dessert. To some, he may seem fine. He’s doing something instead of lying down. His mood seems subdued, but otherwise okay. However, he can’t be still. Either he’s grabbing his neck, or tapping his fingers when his arms are crossed over his chest, or he’s shifting his weight. His lips are in a firm, tense line. Trace has a lot of inner turmoil going on, even though it’s not obvious.
“Are you doing homework or studying me?”
My eyes lift to his at the sound of his gruff, slightly annoyed tone. “Homework,” I answer and proceed to do it.
Trace sits down with me once his crackers are done. I munch on a few while I work. It ends up taking me a little longer than I thought, and Trace gives up on waiting. He walks into the living room, and I hear the footrest of the recliner popping up.
Twenty minutes later, I’m finally done. Lily is actually on the couch, which surprises me.
“Still want me to sit with you?” I ask, just in case he’s changed his mind and would rather have some distance.
He doesn’t reply verbally. He moves his arm, sits up, and I take that as my cue. Once we’re situated and he reclines, he starts rubbing my back. I think that’s another one of his tells. It’s just as soothing for him as it is for me, if not more.
Trace grabs the remote off the other armrest to find something new to watch. He settles on a marathon of Fast ‘n Loud.
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
“For what?”
“For telling me you had a bad day.”
He kisses the top of my head. “Thanks for making it easy.”
A surge of pure fury floods my veins when I’m startled awake by a noise. I was sleeping so well; what in the hell is waking me up? The fury lessens dramatically when I realize the noise is Brittany vomiting in the bathroom. Shit. I really don’t feel like getting out of bed, but I can’t lie here while she’s in the middle of a panic attack. The need to comfort her is greater than my own need, and today, I’m thankful for it. It’s a sign things aren’t as bad as they felt yesterday when I was drowning and texted her because I needed her to come pull me up for air.
I throw the covers across the bed and shuffle my feet until I’m in the bathroom. She’s hovered over the toilet, one hand holding her hair, while the other rests on her thigh. Silently, I take over the hair-holding job and start rubbing her back. Another round of last night’s dinner gushes from her throat.
She spits. Her voice is gravelly and raw. “Do you know what pisses me off?” she asks, wiping away the tears from puking. Brittany doesn’t give me a chance to respond. “I swear on my life I’m not actually this nervous about my appointment, but it’s like my body doesn’t give a fuck and it’s going through the motions anyway.” She sighs, stands upright, and flushes the toilet. I take a step back to give her room to brush her teeth. When she’s done, she turns and leans heavily against me. I wrap my arms around her. “Sorry for waking you up.”
“Don’t worry about it. Anything you want me to do for you?”
“Hold me.”
Well, that’s easy. I drop my arms, take her hand, and lead her back to bed. It’s four in the morning according to my alarm clock. No wonder I’m so tired. We climb into bed, and I do exactly what she’s asked of me; I hold her.
“I really am sorry about waking you up, Trace,” she whispers. “Especially since you had a bad day yesterday.”
“Don’t be. I’m okay today.” For now, at least.
“Do you think we’ll ever catch a break?”
“We will.” What I don’t say is that I have a feeling things will get worse before they get better. “Let’s get some more sleep. Think you’ll be able to?”
Her shoulders shrug. “Don’t you want to bore me to sleep again?”
I chuckle. “Anything you want me to talk about in particular?”
She’s quiet for a moment, and then she asks, “What was the best decision you made last year?”
“Deciding to move here,” I easily answer. “Even if we had just stayed friends, moving would still be the best decision I’d made.”
She tilts her head back to look at me. “You would be happy just being friends?”
I take her hand, interlocking our fingers. “You were already my best friend, Britt. I’d take whatever you wanted to give.”
Her eyebrows rise a little, and she gets that goofy grin on her face. “I’m your best friend?”
“Yeah.”
Her grin widens. “I love you.” Just as soon as the words leave her mouth, she gasps. “Don’t say a word,” sh
e rushes to say. “I mean I mean it, but I don’t want to hear you say it yet. I mean I don’t want you to say it because I said it, even if you mean it. I just, oh my god. Why are you laughing?”
“You’re cute,” I tell her, my laughter fading away.
“This is not a time to laugh at me,” she whines.
“What would you rather I do? You’ve forbidden me from talking, and I do think you’re cute. This is probably the only instance of you freaking out I can enjoy.”
Brittany’s lips pout, but she’s still smiling a little. “Fine. You enjoy it, and I’m going to try to get more sleep.”
She goes to roll over, but I stop her. “Hey.” She doesn’t want me to say anything, so I don’t. Instead, I lean forward and kiss her. I deliberately kiss her slowly. My kiss conveys what I’m not allowed to say. That I’m grateful for her love, that I wish I was worthy of it, and that I’m crazy about her.
When I pull away, she’s smiling. Brittany buries her face under my chin, and I hold her closer. Damn it. I’m so unbelievably unworthy of her. How can she love me? Honestly. I’m not saying I’m not a decent guy who is incapable of being loved. No, I’m a shitty boyfriend who has yet to be completely honest with her like she wants. I have yet to tell her about my mom. I have yet to allow her to be there for me like she wants to be.
And she knows this! Well, maybe she doesn’t know all of it in the fullest capacity, but she’s still aware that I’m holding back somewhat.
How does she love me anyway?
I wrap both my arms around her and hold her tighter, kissing the top of her head. I keep telling myself I’m going to do better, share more, but have I tried hard enough? Enough to have heard those three words leave her mouth?
The answer is no, I have not.
Brittany seemed better when we woke up for the start of the day. The frequency with which she squeezed her wrist had lessened some, but it’s back in full force now. She’s supposed to text me after her appointment with a short update, and then I’ll see her tonight. I need to look up where I can board Lily for our trip to Las Vegas in two weeks. Aside from work, that and calling about a med change are the only things on my to-do list today.
I’ve come to crave my time with Brittany. Those few moments when something she says or does makes me laugh or smile are little bursts of happiness that relieves me from the depression wrapping around my throat, constricting tighter and tighter every day. I covet those moments. I haven’t been able to create those bursts on my own, only when she is around. I’m hoping that’s enough to keep me breathing throughout our Vegas trip.
Right now, I call Dr. Will Gunner. He’s been urging me to find another psychiatrist, but he’s my friend, my psychiatrist, and I like him. He can deal with me.
Once the receptionist puts him on the phone, he says, “Haven’t you found someone out there yet?”
“Give up the dream; I’m sticking with you.”
“Fine. I would ask you how things are going in your life, but you might mention someone I don’t want to know anything about. Why’d you make an appointment, Trace?”
I sigh. Brittany isn’t the only one who isn’t a fan of med changes. “I think I need a med change. The increase isn’t helping at all.”
“Well, we can increase them again. You aren’t at the max dosage yet,” he tells me.
“Let’s try that then.”
“Okay. I’ll send a prescription to your pharmacy. Give me a call in two weeks if you’re not improving. You’re keeping good habits and stuff like that to help yourself, right?” he asks.
“Trying my best.”
“Is there something in particular that’s bothering you? You could always go see a therapist.”
I laugh. “I am a therapist. I don’t need to see one. I know how to handle shit on my own.”
“So, you’re talking to someone about your issues? This isn’t college where you can get a degree to figure out what’s going on with yourself and make a self-diagnosis before going to see someone. You’re in your thirties and in a serious relationship, but you sound like the same ol’ Trace from college who didn’t want help from anyone.”
“I don’t have time for this,” I start with a touch of annoyance.
“I bet you don’t,” he interrupts. “Look, all I’m saying is that you better make sure you’re taking care of yourself in the best way possible or you’re going to fuck up another relationship and get worse in the process.”
“I’m working on it; stop worrying so much. How are things with you?” For the next few minutes, we catch up on what’s going on in our lives. Well, aside from Brittany, since Will doesn’t want to hear anything about that. My next appointment should be here any minute, so I get off the phone after thanking him for his time.
You know, you would think that with me being a therapist and understanding so much about how to better handle problems, that I’d be able to do it myself. Or that my life would be easier because of my knowledge.
It’s not.
I still struggle. I still don’t handle things like I should. Shit is tough to do. I don’t think seeing a therapist would help me. I already know what I need to do, how I should do it; it’s just the doing it part that trips me up. Always has. Even before my problems came, I was more of a listener and helper than a talker. Talking about my problems too much, more than I have with Brittany, is like going against the grain, against my nature.
And yet, it’s completely necessary to keep a functioning, healthy relationship with Brittany. I need to do better. Actions speak louder than words, and right now, I can’t even keep a promise to myself.
An hour later, I get a text from my girl.
Brittany: Good news is appt went GREAT.
Me: ZBB? As in Zac Brown Band? I didn’t know you liked them.
Brittany: One of the few country bands I do like. Totally bummed out.
Me: Sorry. Glad to hear about the therapist, though. I’m getting another dosage increase.
I pull up my web browser. Radio stations do giveaways all the time for tickets to concerts. Maybe I could win us a pair and surprise her with them. Chances are probably slim, but it’s worth a try. I pull up one of the local stations and click so I can listen online after making sure my volume is low. I look down at my phone as I get a text.
Brittany: Hope that helps you. Also, I can’t come over tonight. Bec had a fight with Dustin, so she wants me to hang out with her. Sorry. :/
Me: It’s okay. Hang out with her and have fun.
That’ll give me more chances to try to win tickets anyway. Between appointments, I subtly listen to the radio and try to win tickets to see the Zac Brown Band.
Me: You’re with me tonight. Not accepting no for an answer. Be at my house when I get off work. We’re going out.
Brittany: Out where?
Me: It’s a surprise.
I thought winning tickets was hopeless. I called in every chance I got, but luck wasn’t with me. Today was my last chance. Finally, I got my call through, answered their question, and won a pair of tickets near the stage. Brittany hasn’t stayed the night with me or even hung out with me between being with Rebecca and going to study groups. She’s mine tonight, though, even if I have to drag her kickin’ and screamin’.
I meet her on my lunch break by my car, so she can take my house keys and get in when she gets there.
“What’s this surprise, Trace?”
“Something you’re going to love.” Mentally, I wince at the term. Brittany hasn’t said it again, I haven’t said it, but it’s been on my mind all week. I thought things would be awkward between us, but it’s as if it never happened at all.
“Well, what do I need to wear?”
“Whatever you want. Something casual would probably be best, though.” I do a quick scan to see no
one is around and tug her flush against my body. “Wear something sexy underneath it. You’re gonna want to thank me afterward.” I grin.
“You’re mighty sure of yourself.”
I dip my head to kiss her neck. “Is that turning you on or off?” My tongue flicks across the skin at the crook of her neck and shoulder, causing her to inhale sharply.
“We’re on campus, Trace,” she breathes.
That isn’t what I want to hear, but it’s a good reminder anyway. “I’ve missed you,” I say to explain my carelessness.
A small smile plays on her lips, but she doesn’t say anything.
“What is it?” I ask.
She drapes her arms around my waist, tilting her head back as she leans into me. “Remember how I said I depend on you too much, and I kinda wished you would depend on me too much?” I nod. “I think you depend on me too much.”
I cup her face with both hands, partly startled by her words, partly surprised they’re true. My thumb brushes across her lips, but my gaze is on hers. “I love you, too,” I whisper.
Brittany smiles and then bursts into a fit of giggles. I don’t know why she’s laughing, but all I can do is smile because of it. I’ve missed her laugh. She starts to settle down and says, “God, we really are not quite sane, aren’t we?”
“Afraid so.”
She lifts onto her tiptoes and gives me a brief kiss. “I should get going. Enjoy the rest of your lunch break and I’ll see you tonight.”
It sucks to see her walk away, but the bright side is she’ll be with me tonight, and she’ll love me even more after she discovers what the surprise is.
The rest of the day flies by. I stop on the way home to get my new bottle of pills. Once home, I change my clothes. Brittany lets Lily out, and then we leave.
“I hope this isn’t the big surprise,” Brittany says when we stop at a fast food restaurant for dinner.
I laugh and throw a fry at her as I pull back onto the road. “No, it’s not.”
“Okay, good. How was your day, by the way?”
“It’s been good.” I’ve felt decent. “What about you?”
Driving Me Mad (Sanity Book 1) Page 15
