Driving Me Mad (24 page)

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. really like her. Bad news is I should pay more attention. ZBB is in
town for a concert Friday, and I can’t go because they’re sold out
and I didn’t know they were coming! :(

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?”

She shrugs. “Up and down.
I’ve been able to sleep without taking sleeping pills, though.”

“Good sleep?” I ask.

“Mostly.”

“Well, that’s good. Rebecca
settle things with her boyfriend?”

“After she made him grovel
for days, yes. You’re probably going to hate me next week.”

“Why?”

“Midterms. Don’t you remember
how I was last semester? You get to experience it in person this
time.”

Now that she mentions it, I
do remember. I had talked to her every single day, and she was a
stressed-out, panic-induced mess. Hell, it stressed me out to talk
to her and feel so helpless. I reach over to take her hand and give
it a little squeeze. “I think you’re doing better this semester;
maybe it won’t be so bad.”

She gives me a dubious look.
“I doubt that.”

“That it won’t be so bad, or
that you’re better?”

“Both.”

“You need to appreciate the
good days you have, and acknowledge that you have them.”

“No therapist-mode tonight if
you want to see what I’m wearing underneath these clothes.” I don’t
get a chance to respond because she perks up as she reads the exit
sign. “Where are we going? You probably should’ve taken another
exit. Traffic’s insane because of the concert.”

“We have to go this way.”

“Why?”

Traffic is stopped on the
deceleration lane of the exit, so I reach over to open the
glovebox. I pull out the tickets I picked up on my lunch break and
hand them to her. She presses the overhead light, so she can
see.

“Oh my god! How did you get
these?”

“Every time the local radio
station was giving away tickets, I called in. Finally won a pair
this morning.”

She leans over the middle
console to hug me. “You were right to be sure of yourself,” she
tells me with a grin as she pulls away. Traffic starts moving
slowly, so I focus on the road again. “God, I can’t believe you got
these. They’re good seats too!” She squeals and dances a little in
her seat. “I’m so excited!”