***
No. I’ll never tell anyone. If I stay inside, she won’t be able to find me. I’m certain of that.
By the time the sun is coming up, I’m exhausted. I’ve sent out about twenty resumes to places through online sites, not really hoping for any of them to contact me, but at least I’m looking. I don’t even know what I want to do with my life anymore. Working for a big wig lawyer as a peon attorney wasn’t doing it for me. I know I’ll be paying off student loans for it for forever and a day, but I need something to numb the pain and make me work, not something that will send me into panic attacks every time I start a new case.
Honestly, nothing feels right anymore. It’s been almost twenty-four hours since Benton said those words to me, and all I can think about is how much I hurt him when I ran and didn’t look back. I know he expected me to say them back, and I do feel that way, but I can’t say it. I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life, I know I love him with my whole heart and then some, but I can’t be with him like that. I’ve already proven how much I can hurt someone just by my actions yesterday. Staying with him would just cause the pain to be worse. Life crippling.
By the time Thursday is here, I’ve showered once and changed right back into my pajamas. I’ve not taken my pills yet and I missed last night’s dose, too. I’m starting not to care if I become the crazy cat lady anymore. This life of being alone is a lot easier than worrying if I’m going to ruin someone else’s life. Even if the pain from losing him hurts more than I care to admit.
“Hey,” Annaliese says, walking into my apartment. I heard her buzz in. I heard her key in the handle and the soft click of the door as she closed it behind her. I heard it all, but I didn’t move from my spot. Now, she’s standing here, hands crossed in front of her with a worried expression on her face.
I hate that I told her the truth. This is what happens when people know the truth. They get sad around you. I don’t need her to be sad, I need her to be my upbeat backbone that she’s always been.
“Hi,” I mutter, my eyes glued to the spot on the TV that’s gone blank. One fucking spot in the entire fifty two inch plasma screen, but I can’t stop staring at it. It’s amazing how one small spot giving out affects the way the entire picture changes.
“So, you’ve not been out of the house for a while?” She eyes the takeout boxes stacked on the counter and chuckles. I shake my head, taking a sip of my water and setting it back down. Without words, she starts cleaning up my mess from these last few days. Boxes in the trash, floors swept. Swiffer ran across the tabletops and shelves.
“You’re too good to me, bitch,” I manage, looking around at her speedy progress. At least, I think it was speedy. Honestly, I don’t remember what time she got here, or how long she’s been cleaning silently. She smiles at me, and plops on the couch.
Yoga pants, an old t-shirt, hair pulled in a bun… She’s a hot mess, but it makes me smile because lately all I’ve seen her in has been the designer clothes, makeup and heels that she works in. It’s nice seeing my best friend hasn’t lost herself to Mr. Chicago.
“So, you want to tell me what’s going on?” She crosses her legs under her, and starts playing with a corner of one of my pillows. Her gaze on the pillow hurts my heart, because I know it’s only to not show me how much she’s hurting from the sudden withdrawal of her best friend.
I’ve never gotten this low around her. I’ve never had a spot in my life since I’ve known Annaliese that I just kind of said ‘fuck it’ and given up on life. She’s never seen me like this, but, since she knows the truth now, I really don’t have to hide anything from her anymore. It’s nice in a way that I don’t have to be the Gabby that everyone thinks they know in front of her, but it still hurts when she directs that sad gaze at me.
“I’m fine,” I mutter, staring at the pillow in her hands.
It’s a hand me down pillow. It came from my grandma’s house, the only house I ever felt safe in.
“You know, Gabby… I wish you would talk to someone. You might not want to talk to me about what’s bothering you, but you need to talk to someone.”
Her words remind me of the appointment this afternoon. Maybe he can help me get through this. I smile and chuckle softly.
“Annaliese, you know me all too well,” I say, pasting on the fake smile that she wants to see. Apparently, me being real with her doesn’t sit well with her sunny outlook on life. “I’ll do that this afternoon. Promise.”
She smiles and nods, and we spend the rest of the morning watching horrible soap operas on TV, making fun of the dramatic plot twists and over dramatic acting. She comments on the storyline, and I silently nod along, agreeing with her all the way… even if some of them are too close to home to feel the same about.
By the time my appointment comes, I’ve cleaned up and brushed my teeth. I’ve never needed to bother with makeup or primping before an appointment with Dr. T because, typically, I end up in tears anyway. He’s seen me at my worst, and he still is there to help me, so, for that, I’m thankful.
Making it to the office about fifteen minutes before my appointment, I watch the people streaming in and out of the three doctor office. All three doctors are in their late sixties, all brothers, and all therapists. Each specializes in their own areas, one being marriages, one being pediatrics, and one being trauma and PTSD patients.
Dr. Travers deals with PTSD patients.
“Gabby,” Maryanne, one of the receptionists for the office, calls me back. “He’s ready for you. Head on in, dear.”
I smile and thank her, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear shyly. I’ve been coming here for years, but I still have a hint of self-consciousness when it comes to being in a shrink’s office.
“Gabby, glad you could make it,” he says, standing from his desk and meeting me at the door. He does his usual hug, then closes the door behind him, and turns on the ‘occupied’ light. Propping himself on one side of the couch, I sit on the other and take a calming breath.
“Why don’t you tell me what’s been on your mind lately, Gabby?” His smooth voice immediately calms me, like my brain knows this is a safe place.
“I’ve been seeing someone… as you know,” I say, and he nods, silently watching me. “He told me he loves me,” I whisper, staring at the floor. This office is old, but the doctors here try to keep it up to date at least. It’s a nice touch that they are willing to come into a new century of decoration merely for their patients’ comfort.
“I see,” he mutters, taking notes. “So, you didn’t like that?”
“I don’t know what to feel!” I erupt, suddenly on edge because this is the first time I’ve actually had to voice my real feelings for Benton. “I love him! I do. I love him more than I think I’ve ever loved anyone. Definitely more than I love myself, but it’s fucking scary! It’s scary to think that he has a little girl, and he’s still mourning the loss of his wife last year. His mom just passed away… I could ruin everything he has left!”
Pacing back and forth, now I feel like a completely crazy person.
“Why do you think that?” Dr. T asks, watching me without a care in the world. Like this is normal.
I guess for my sessions it is pretty normal, but usually I’m crying, not frantic.
“Because.” I stop pacing and shrug. “I ruin everything, don’t I?”
He narrows his eyes at me, and put the pen down. “I don’t like to hear that, Gabby. You weren’t the reason for the accident that night. You weren’t the one that took those lives. It wasn’t you. All your life, you’ve been hearing that you’re not good enough and you’ll never be anything, but now you have someone that loves you and you’re willing to walk away before even giving it a true shot?” He raises his eyebrows in question, and my mouth flaps like I’m going to have a witty comeback for him… but I’ve got nothing.