Smash Into You (24 page)
“The main
thing you need to know is that it is very treatable. While it can take a while to find an effective combination of medications, Tally can lead a normal life if she remains on them and does therapy as needed . Over time she will likely have to have her medicine adjusted periodically. But as long as she takes care of herself, she will be able to manage the disease rather than the disease managing her.”
My parents are silent. Out of the corner of my eye I see my mom shift nervously. My father is motionless. I can’t tell what thoughts are running through their heads. I try not to shift in my own chair but the silence is beginning to make me uncomfortable. Finally, my mom speaks and her words rip w
ider the already bleeding hole inside of me.
“How long will she be this way?”
I feel the familiar rush of anger that has been out of my control and grip the arms of my chair to keep from jumping up and telling them both to go to hell. I grind my teeth in an attempt to keep my mouth shut and try to take slow breaths like Dr. Stacey showed me.
Dr. Stacey sidesteps the questions and continues on with her explanation of my diagnosis. “We are beginning a combination of medicines that has proven to work well for other bipolar patients and we hope that it will help level her out. It takes several weeks for the medicine to get in her system so we won’t know for about a month if the medicines are going to help. My suggestion is that she stays here through the summer. She needs to learn how to deal with the emotions that make her feel out of control in a healthy way.” Her face grows serious. “I need you to understand that your daughter is not defective, she is not fragile or broken, though she may feel that way. What she needs most from you is for you to treat her normally. If you make her feel like there is something wrong with her then you will hinder her therapy.”
“I’m right here you know,” I grumble.
Dr. Stacey gives me a brief smile. She is very good at dealing with my surly attitude and I have to admit that there are days that I purposely try to provoke her, though I don’t understand why.
My mom turns to look at me. Her face is blank. Any emotion a mother might show for her daughter in such a difficult situation is absent and I feel it to the depths of my messed up soul.
“We love you,” her words are clipped and sound about as full of love as dried and wasted desert is full of water. “We expect you to do your best to fix this,” she continues, “so that another embarrassing situation doesn’t arise again.”
I nod, but I don’t speak. I know that if I do I will break down completely. I’m so angry and it’s so easy for others to become the object of my wrath, deserved or not.
When the meeting is over my parents both give me awkward hugs but there are no promises of calling and checking in and no lies of understanding of how hard this must be for me. Mom passes on a letter from Natalie, my best friend, and tells me that she’ll be by later that week.
“Tally,” Dr. Stacey’s voice has me stopping before I can exit her office. I turn to look at her and I can instantly see that, as usual, she sees much more than I want her to.
“It’s okay to be angry; it’s what you do with that anger that matters.”
My eyes are empty. I know they are empty because I am empty. I am empty and nothing seems to fill the void. “Whatever you say, doc.”
Her lips purse as she gives me a solemn nod. “How about you take some time to yourself? You can spend time in your room, or anywhere else you can find some peace.”
I’m surprised by her suggestion because we aren’t typically allowed to spend much alone time during the day. Doc says it’s because alone time fosters self-pity and depression. Personally, I think they just like watching the crazies interact with one another. It can be quite entertaining when a yelling match ensues over who was using the color pencils first. Yes, I said color pencils. Scary, I know.
I make it back to my room without incident. By the time I walk in my breathing is shallow and I’m biting my lip to keep back the tears. Tears make me angry because they are just one more reminder of how broken I feel. I shut the door behind me and slide to the cold, hard floor. I pull my long sleeves up and stare down at my arms. The cuts are almost all healed, but the scars left behind will always be a silent reminder that I am fragmented, unable to be solid and whole. I will never wear short sleeves again. I close my eyes and search for something inside me that I recognize, anything to remind me that I wasn’t always this way, I wasn’t always such a mess. I don’t even recognize myself anymore and every day I seem to fade even more. The worst part, the absolute worst part, is that I don’t understand why I feel this way. Why do I feel like the end of the world is one step away? Why does breathing hurt and why
does despair seem to be my only friend? What has happened that could possibly make me feel so completely and utterly damaged. My parents haven’t always been so cold and distant. They were never the most affectionate people, but they weren’t so awful to cause me to have a complete and total meltdown of outrageous proportion.
I bang my head against the door as I begin to feel the constant rush of emotions that I don’t know how to restrain boiling up inside. I don’t want to be this person.
“WHY!” I finally give in and scream. “WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME!” I’m rocking now and I know that I should stop. I’m telling myself to stop but I can’t. The flood gates are open and nothing will close them until I’m utterly exhausted. I thrust my hands into my hair and pull, feeling a slight measure of relief from the emotional agony as the physical pain briefly distracts my fragmented mind. I release my hair and begin to scratch my arms until blood is welling up and skin is gathering under my nails. I don’t care; I just don’t want to feel anymore, I don’t want to hurt anymore. I hear myself screaming incoherently, until all that’s left is whimpers.
As I roll to my side and curl up in a ball, I begin to shake as if the temperature had suddenly dropped and a raging blizzard is swirling around me. It’s then that I realize that I’m not broken. Broken implies that I might be able to be fixed. No I’m not broken, I’m shattered beyond repair, beyond hope. I let myself sink into the darkness and welcome the familiar comfort of knowing that I won’t live forever. Someday I will die and this torment will be over.
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Something Great
, a na novel, by M. Clarke aka Mary Ting (Crosssroads Saga) July 24, 2013
Luke wasn’t the “perfect gentleman” type of guy. Most men opened the car door for their date, but he never showed that kind of charisma. But what did I know about men, anyway? They were all different, just like us. Was it too much for me to want him to open the door for me?
The restaurant was nice, dimly lit, and not too crowded. White linen tablecloths covered the tables that were adorned with candles on top, giving it a romantic ambiance. I had to give him credit for that. The hostess took us toward the back to a table for two, but the tables were very close together. I had hoped there wouldn’t be anyone sitting near us.
The hostess pulled out my chair, and after I sat, she placed the white linen napkin on my lap. “Thank you,” I said to her.
“The waiter will be right with you.” She smiled and left.
“How was your day?” Luke asked. He had one eye on me and the other eye on the phone. “Sorry…checking an urgent email.”
“That’s okay. I had a fantastic day actually. I got the job I was talking about.” I tried my best to contain my excitement, but he looked at me like he had no idea what I was talking about. I clearly remembered texting him about it the night before. Apparently, he hadn’t read the text or had forgotten.
“Yes, of course, I remember,” he said slowly and mechanically as his eyes flickered to his phone, then to me. “That’s wonderful. What position will you be holding for the company?”
“I’ll be going in to talk about that next week.”
“I see,” he nodded, looking past me, seemingly in deep thought, but not about our conversation.
The waiter came by with the menus. “May I take your orders for your drinks?”
I was just about to ask for a glass of water when Luke broke in. “We’ll both have glasses of water, please.”
He didn’t even ask me what I wanted. I brushed it off, thinking he knew I always ordered water.
“Sure.” The waiter left after he told us the specials.
Gazing from top to bottom of the menu, I had a hard time deciding what to order, especially when all I could think of was the need to use the restroom. “Excuse me. I’ll be right back. Can you order me the salmon special if the waiter comes back before I do?”
“Sure.”
Not knowing exactly where the restroom was, I headed toward the back where restrooms were usually located. This place was like a maze, or I had a very bad sense of direction. Seeing a bar, I thought I’d ask the bartender.
Though there was no one standing behind the bar, I figured the bartender went to get something and would be right back. From where I stood, I could see the waitress and waiters, but I didn’t feel like walking in that direction again just to ask a question, so I waited. I could see the pendant on my neck sparkling brilliantly against the mirrored wall. What a great fake diamond!
From the corner of my eye I saw a figure, but dismissed it and shifted my eyes to the right, where they settled on the elusive restroom sign. I was just about to head in that direction when someone spoke to me from behind in a deep, manly voice that sent shivers down my back.
“I’m your prescription. Let me be your new addiction.” His words glided like butter, smooth and cool.
Startled, I twitched, and turned my body to his voice. There he was, all six feet of him, peering down on me with that smile that could make me do just about anything. Though there was nothing to laugh about, especially seeing this hottie in front of me, I couldn’t help but giggle from his words.
He wore beige casual pants and a black sweater that fit perfectly to the tone of his body. His hair was brushed to the side, showing his nice forehead. Whatever kind of cologne he had on made me want to dive right into his arms…maybe it wasn’t the cologne, but just him.
“Pretty cheesy, huh?” he chuckled.
I shyly giggled as I stared down at my shoes. What is wrong with me? Answer him. “Umm…kind of,” I smiled as I peered up, only to have him take my breath away again.
“Sorry. I just had to say that. You looked so lost and vulnerable. Did you need some help?”
Great! To him I was just a lost puppy…lost and vulnerable. “I actually found what I was looking for.” I was staring into his eyes, melting, feeling myself sinking into him. Snap out of it!
“You certainly did,” he said with a playful tone.
Arching my brows in confusion, I thought about what I’d said. From his perspective, my words had been about him.
“We meet again, for the third time.”
He was counting?
“You left so abruptly at Café Express, I didn’t get to ask you for your name.”
“Umm…my name? Oh…my name is Jeanella Mefferd, but you can call me Jenna.”
Extending his hand, he waited for me. “I’m Maxwell. But you can call me Max.”
Nervously, I placed my hand in his to shake. It was strong, yet gentle…just right, and heat blazed through me from his touch.
“Are you here with someone?”
“Yes.” I looked away shyly.
“Are you lost? Do you need some help?”
“Actually, I was looking for the restroom. Since I didn’t know where it was I thought I’d ask the bartender, but I guess there isn’t one, and I’m on my way to the restroom.” I rambled nervously as I slowly pulled my hand back to point in the direction I meant to go. I had just realized we were holding hands during our short conversation. “So…I’d better go.”
“I’ll walk you there.”
What? “Oh…no need. I’m sure I won’t get lost.” Feeling the heat on my face again, I turned before he could say another word, but it didn’t matter what I had said. His hand was gently placed on my back, guiding me to the women’s room. I turned my back to the bathroom door to thank him, but he spoke first.
“I think this is my stop,” he muttered, looking straight at me. “I’m not wanted in there. What do you think?” He arched his brows, and his tone held a note of challenge.
Huh? He wants to go in with me? I gasped silently, as I was still lost in his eyes. “I think the women in there will throw themselves at you.” I couldn’t believe I’d said those words. I couldn’t take it back. What was I doing, flirting with him?
He seemed to like what he heard. His arms reached out, his muscles flexing as he placed one on each side of me on the wall. With nowhere to go, I was trapped inside the bubble of his arms. He leaned down toward the left side of my face and brushed my hair with his cheek. “You smell…delicious,” he whispered. His hot breath shot tingles to places I hadn’t expected them.
Out of nervousness and habit, my left index finger flew inside my mouth. Max gave a crooked, naughty grin and slowly took my hand out of my mouth. “Did you know that biting one’s finger is an indication one is sexually deprived?” His words came out slowly, playfully, but hot. “I can fix that for you, if you’d like.”
He did not just say that to me! I parted my lips for a good comeback, but I couldn’t find one. Feeling my chest rise and fall quickly, I tried to control the heated desire. Sure, he’d helped me once, but that didn’t mean we were friends, or flirting buddies, or that I would allow him to fix my sexual deprivation. Oh God…can guys tell if you haven’t done it in a very long time? This had to stop or else…oh dear…I wanted to take him with me into the restroom.
Needing to put a stop to the heat, I placed my hand on his chest… big mistake. Touching him made the heat worse, and tingles that were already intensifying burst through every inch of me. I had to push him away.
As if he knew what I meant to do, he pulled back, but his eyes did the talking instead. There was no need for words; I felt his hard stare on my body, as if he was undressing me with his gorgeous eyes. His gaze was powerful, as if his eyes were hands; I felt them all over me, completely unraveling me.
Just when I thought I was going to faint, his eyes shifted to mine again. “It was really nice to meet you, Jenna. I’m sure we’ll see each other again, real soon. I better let you go. Your someone must be waiting for you. By the way….” There was a pause as he charmed me with his eyes again. “You…took my breath away. If I were your someone, I wouldn’t let you out of my sight for even a second, because someone like me will surely try to whisk you away.” He winked and left.
Oh no…don’t ever wink again. That wink made me shiver even more, let alone his words. I pushed the door with my behind without thinking. Thank goodness there was no one by the door, or I would have knocked a stranger over with the force of my push. Max was right. How long had I been away, but did Luke even care? Oh no…what if he came to find me and he saw…oh no! I quickly took care of business and headed back toward our table.
Wiping Max and his words out of my head, I had to think of an excuse. What would I say if he saw us? How could I explain? Anxiety was rising to the surface, and so was my blood pressure. Just as I turned the corner to our table, I saw that another couple had been seated next to us. I gazed around the room, a little upset. Why would they seat another couple next to us when there were other empty tables around us? I didn’t understand.
“Luke, I’m so sorry,” I apologized as I sat. “I got lost and then….”
Oh no…Max was sitting adjacent to me, and his beautiful date was sitting across from him. My face felt hot, but my hands felt cold as the blood drained down to my toes. Max having a date was not the issue. Flirting with me when he was on a date was. How wrong was that? He was trouble for sure. In a way I felt guilty, guilty towards Luke, because I had enjoyed it.
“Are you okay?” Luke asked.
Placing my hands on my cheeks, my cold hands soothed them somewhat. “I think I’m coming down with something,” I whispered, trying not to attract Max’s attention, but who was I kidding? He was not blind or stupid.
“Would you like to go home?” Luke asked, looking concerned.
“I’ll be fine, Luke. Maybe I just need something to eat.”
When dinner arrived, our conversation was minimal. A part of me kept quiet because of Max. In a way, I was more interested in their conversation, because his date giggled every so often. From what I could tell, she was tall and her dark hair fell to her shoulders. Was this a personal or a business date? I couldn’t tell, but why did I care?
Never once did I look his way, and never once did he look my way. Well, truth be told, I did peek with my peripheral vision. I wasn’t sure if Max snuck a glance, but Luke looked their way when Max’s date was a little bit too loud.
When Luke excused himself to the restroom after he had finished his dinner, Max’s date did the same thing. Though there were more couples around us now, I felt as though this place only existed for the two of us. Feeling uncomfortable, I focused on my plate. With my fork, I swirled around what was left of my mashed potatoes. Suddenly, I gasped and turned. I knew it was Max, but the fact that he’d pulled up his chair and bumped his shoulder into mine startled me.
“Hi, again. Ignoring me, aren’t you?” he said casually, as if we were good friends.
I turned to him. His face was way too close for my comfort. I had no choice but to gaze into his hypnotic eyes. “Ignoring you? I hardly know you, and you and I each have a date,” I snapped. I didn’t know where the angry tone was coming from.
“We can fix that.”
“We can?” I asked, dumbfounded.
Instead of answering, he tilted his head, with a look as if he remembered something he wanted to say. “I meant to ask you how your hand was earlier, but I got a little…distracted.” Max grabbed my right hand and tenderly rubbed the area where the hot coffee had spilled. He’d even remembered which hand it was.
“It’s much better. Thank you for asking,” I mumbled, fixated on his index finger, stroking the area on my hand. His touch produced a tingling vibration that was slowly waving throughout my body, and I didn’t want him to stop, but I managed to pull back without offending him. If I’d let him continue, I would have dived into his arms, and I didn’t want to make a fool out of myself.
