by KC Decker
***
When the alarm on my phone wakes me up at 7:00, Sutton is already gone. He left a sticky note on the bathroom mirror that says, I made you some coffee, help yourself to anything. He also left a lone key on the counter, right next to my Sonicare replacement head.
I get ready and put yesterday's clothes on. The coffee tastes buttery and smooth, but I usually take my meds in the morning, so it only reminds me that I don’t have them. I’m down to a mood stabilizer and something for my anxiety, neither one important enough to go back to the halfway house.
When I get to the hospital for my appointment with Sutton, I’m a little late because driver’s ed is an hour, and Uber doesn’t care that I’m double-booked with back to back appointments that seem to overlap.
Right away, I find out that Wes is gone. He checked himself out yesterday, and Lyla’s mom is visiting, so I don’t get to see her either.
“Mercy! I was worried about you. You’re late,” Sutton says from the nurse’s station the very moment my face rounds the corner.
“The only way I could have been on time is if I teleported here. Plus, you said there would be growing pains with all the changes—this feels like a growing pain to me, not a reason for that look on your face.”
“Fine, a growing pain. Let’s go to my office,” he grumbles. I legitimately think he was worried about me. His whole doctor-patient facade is firmly in place, but I can read the relief all over his face.
Once in his office, he flatly refuses to deviate from my highly regimented mental health treatment and is in no mood for the playful antics I employ to throw us off course. If he held me at arm’s length before, now he practically has me in another room.
When I finish up with my boring appointment, I go visit Colleen. To be honest, I’m kind of surprised by how much this doesn’t feel like home anymore, but she will always be a part of me. When we speak, I completely gloss over the fact that I’m on the run from the halfway house, and then walk out of the unit like a regular person.
I still have some conflicting feelings about Sig that swirl around my head and keep my anger running hot. I think someday I will reach out to him, and perhaps we will be able to have a relationship, but for now, I can’t release him from keeping me sick. It’s hard to imagine what the last ten years would have been like had he set me free.
Sutton has his own anger toward Sig but I think he absolves him of that because of his fatherly role in my life. He says that, much like my foster parents over the years, Sig was not equipped for my complex situation, and he did the best he knew how to.
To be clear, I don’t think Sig deliberately misdiagnosed me, or tried to hobble me in any way. In the end, I think Sig loved me more than he wanted me to get better. Which, incidentally, shines new light on some of Sutton’s inner conflict. Sutton wants me to continue to get better and to be free of my past, even at the cost of his feelings for me. It’s frustrating—yet commendable.
I do believe I will be able to accept Sig’s shortcomings and forgive him for how he unintentionally shaped my life, but I’m not there yet. For now, I have some living to do and some years to make up for. And because group therapy is no longer required of me, my next stop is the bank, because I have some shopping to do.
***
What started out as shopping for a toothbrush and underwear, turned into a full-blown spending spree. Colleen directed me to a store where you can buy everything from makeup and hair products to trash cans—and everything in between.
I spent an inordinate amount of time picking out bra and panty sets, but V and Lyla would be proud. PJ’s took some time too, but only because I’m crafty, and plan to make some changes in Sutton’s bedtime attitude toward me.
After another hour or so of picking out jeans and shirts and shoes and dresses, I headed to the makeup section to make Matty proud as well.
I’m not going to say I went crazy, but it’s hard to pick out only one nail polish when you are standing in front of a wall of them, and really, do women actually need all those options when it comes to feminine hygiene?
However, the tiny bit of restraint I did happen to show was in the electronics department, and only because trying to decipher what processing speed, RAM, and connectivity I require these days, was about to make my head explode.
Anyway, my Uber driver was very helpful when he realized I had a full cart to load into the car, but not as helpful when it comes to hauling everything inside. For that, I’m on my own.
I get inside the building without struggling too much with all the bags lining my arms, but while I’m waiting for the elevator, an angel descends.
“Can I help you with all that?” a guy asks. He is sweaty and has earbuds dangling from his neck, so it’s clear he just worked out.
“Um, ok. Are you sure?”
“Absolutely,” he says as he lessens my load, “Which floor are you headed to?”
“Eight, please.”
“I live on the eighth floor too. Which one is yours?” he asks as he pushes the button.
“812.”
“812? Isn’t that Travis’ place?”
“Travis?—Oh, yeah, Travis! …I just met the guy, so I always forget his name,” I scramble to recover from not knowing Sutton’s first name.
“Although, he doesn’t look much like a Travis, does he?” I muse.
“You guys just met? So, you’re not together?” he asks, his spirits brightening.
“NO,” I say, too forcefully, “We aren’t together at all,” I’m scrambling again to come up with something believable now… “Travis is friends with my brother, and he’s doing him a favor by letting me stay here for a few days, that’s all.”
“Oh, good. I mean, that’s nice of him.”
When I unlock the door, I turn around to thank him for his help, but he speaks first.
“I’ll help you get all this inside, and then I’ll get out of your hair,” he says as he walks straight into Sutton’s place. He puts his load down on the kitchen counter and then takes the bags from me and does the same.
“I’m Ben, by the way,” he says as he sticks out his hand.
“Nice to meet you, I’m Mercy. Thanks for your help.”
“Anytime.” He lets go of my hand slowly, “I’m not sure how long you’re in town for, but I’d love to take you out sometime if you’re up for it.”
“Uh. Sure… Yeah. That sounds great.” I’m clearly going to have to get faster about thinking on my feet. I sound like an idiot starting every sentence with a verbal pause.
He types my number into his phone while I mentally chastise myself. He is so nice, and I’m not at all used to being asked out, so I can hardly be blamed for not thinking of a reason to turn him down fast enough.
When he’s gone, I glance at the microwave clock, it’s not quite 3:00. Now, it’s time to figure out how to do laundry. Sutton has a stackable washer and dryer, so I load my new clothes one by one as I pull off the tags.
I’ll have to remember to take the lacy stuff out before I put it all in the dryer, another lesson learned from Lyla. A wash cycle takes fifty minutes, and I have no idea how long stuff takes to dry, but hopefully, it’s done before Sutton gets home.
Now, I’m off to shower and get ready with all my new, fun stuff. Maybe this time, I’ll figure out the shower knobs before scalding myself.
Chapter 33
When Sutton gets home, my clothes are in the dryer—except for the delicates, which are hung up neatly to dry, and I’m wearing a clean t-shirt of his and sitting cross-legged on the bathroom counter, experimenting with my new makeup.
“Independence suits you,” he says with a smile as he leans his shoulder up against the archway wall between the bedroom and bathroom.
“Yes, but does this sparkly eyeshadow suit me?” I ask as I turn to face him and bat my eyelashes.
“Absolutely.”
“Well then, that’s all I care about,” I say as I lean closer to the mirror to apply mascara.
�
��You’ve been busy, now I see why you’ve ignored my texts,” he says as he studies my bare legs and the section of his t-shirt that is covering my pantyless state. Apparently, he doesn’t realize that I can see him in the reflection of the mirror. Really, going commando right now was not for his benefit. I just didn’t want to put on the same underwear from yesterday, and this morning—you can only turn them inside-out once.
“What texts did you send me? I wasn’t ignoring them, I’m just not used to checking my phone,” I say, still tending to my eyelashes.
“I just wanted to check on you. You’ve been unleashed into the world, and I didn’t know if you were sinking or swimming.”
I scoff, “Oh, please. We both know, I’m not the type to sink.”
“You’re right about that, but do I need to buy stock in Target? Or have you exhausted your desire to shop?”
“I’m good for now.”
“Ok, well, I’m going to have a beer. It’s Friday, and I’m not on call this weekend. Do you want one?”
“I don’t know…should we add supplying alcohol to a minor to your growing list of felonies?” I tease.
“Right,” he grunts, as he turns and walks out of the room.
“Just kidding, supplying alcohol to a minor is not a felony!” I shout after him, then erupt into giggles.
When I finish with my makeup, I drag my fingers through my damp hair, then hop down to go find Sutton. He is sitting on the couch with his forearm draped across his eyes. I shouldn’t have pointed out my underage status because that is one of his moral dilemmas, but it was too funny not to.
I leave him alone to brood while I fold my laundry and then look through the kitchen for something to cook for dinner. I find a bag of pasta and a jar of spaghetti sauce. After reading the directions, I decide a monkey could prepare this meal, then put a pot of water on the burner to boil.
When I go sit on the couch by Sutton, he doesn’t even lift his arm off his face when he says, “Your phone keeps buzzing, sounds like your friends are gearing up for a festive Friday night.”
I pick my phone up from the coffee table and see that I have three new text messages. One is Matty—finally, one is Lyla, who got out this afternoon, and the other is from Ben, who wants to take me out tonight.
“Listen, Sutton, are you going to pout all night? Because if you are, I’ve got better things to do.”
He moves his arm so he can look me in the eyes, “Oh, is that right?” he says with a smirky challenge that only serves to piss me off. He shouldn’t assume that he is my only lifeline. I’ve been fighting people’s assumptions my whole life, so my hackles are pretty much permanently up.
“Yeah.”
“Ok, Hotstuff, don’t let me hold you back,” he says with a chuckle that seals the deal. I’m going to go out with Ben. That should really give Sutton something to pout about.
I text Ben, and then get up to go turn off the stove. Sutton can make his own dinner tonight; I’ve got to get dressed for my date.
I’m fairly confident Sutton thinks I’m bluffing the whole time I’m getting dressed and finishing my hair, but when Ben knocks on the door, all that changes. I rush out of the bedroom to try and intercept any problems.
“Hi, Travis,” Ben says.
“Hey, Ben, what’s up?” Sutton asks, probably expecting Ben to ask for a cup of sugar or something. I squeeze past my pouty doctor, who seems to be taking up the entire doorway.
“See you later, Travis. Don’t wait up,” I say over my shoulder as I try to make a hasty exit.
“Wait. What?” Sutton calls out down the hall, but I grab Ben’s arm and tug him on to the elevator before this gets any worse for me.
***
When I come home from the date that I explained to Ben needs to be purely a friendship kind of thing, Sutton is in bed reading. Fuming, but reading. I get ready for bed and change into my new PJs in the bathroom.
When I walk out of the bathroom, and round the bed to my side, he tries to ignore me, but he can’t ignore the lace and satin, super short, and super sexy ‘nightgown.’
“Night, Roomie,” I say as I snuggle in, facing him, but still playing coy.
“Is that how this is going to be?” he asks—I think, referencing my attire and not the date.
“I love these sheets, what are they? Flannel?” I ask, completely ignoring his question.
“Yeah. Flannel.” And that is the last thing he says to me before pretending to read for the next hour while I try to fall asleep while looking sexy.
***
My heart is pounding so hard, it is trying to suffocate me. They have me pinned down while the box is opened, and the Prophet retrieves a snake. It’s big. Mama says it’s the little ones I need to worry about because the young can’t control their venom and will release much more than they need to. But this one terrifies me just the same as it’s laid heavily on my young body.
I can taste the scream in my mouth, and it’s rising still. It is only a matter of time before I feel the blistering pain because the screaming and chanting and singing are frightening the snake too. He hates the box, but he wants to go back. They starve the snakes so they are complacent, but a weakened snake can still strike—
“Mercy!”
“Wake up.”
“Honey, it’s me. You are safe, there are no snakes.”
My lungs have seized and are burning with the need for oxygen. When Sutton’s voice breaks through the cultish haze, I suck in a breath—my first in days.
“Open your eyes, that’s right. I’ve got you,” he says as he pulls my stiff body into his warmth. “Everything is fine, you were having a nightmare. Are you ok now?” he coos.
Instead of responding, I dissolve into tears. They soak his pillow while he caresses my back. My heart is still racing, but Sutton is holding me and coaxing me away from the trauma that has branded itself to me. It was just a nightmare he soothes over and over, which would calm me—were it true.
A long time passes inside of his embrace, maybe even an hour or more. His caress is gentle and slow, and continues, as though he knows I’m still awake. When he moves his palm tenderly to my cheek, he speaks softly.
“Mercy, what can I do?”
“Don’t push me away.”
“I’ll hold you all night if that’s what you want,” he says, as if that’s what I meant. I’m too shaken and too exhausted to correct him, though. So, I drift off to sleep in the only place that’s ever felt truly safe.
Chapter 34
When I blink my eyes open, Sutton is still here. It’s Saturday morning, and the warmth from falling asleep in his arms is still with me. When I look up to his face, he is awake and looking at me as well.
“Did you have fun last night?” he asks, and at first, I think he’s talking about my nightmare, so I furrow my brow.
“With Ben. On your date.”
“Yes, I had fun, I guess.”
“Was he a gentleman? Or do I need to kick his ass?” he asks, revealing his jealousy.
“It’s too early for the third degree,” I say, avoiding the question. I should tell Sutton that Ben started off in the friend zone and that nothing has changed, but not just yet.
“I guess I’ll make coffee then. Oh, also, I filled new scripts for you. I figured they got left behind.”
“Thank you,” I yawn as I make my rumpled way into the bathroom. When I see my reflection, it makes me decide not to get dressed quite yet. I told Ben that I have a boyfriend, so I will need to provoke Sutton in other ways. Plus, I’ve never been able to lounge around in jammies on a Saturday—much less, ones that make me look like this.
I brush my teeth and then decide to put on a little mascara and lip gloss before I pad out to the kitchen in my skimpy outfit for some coffee. I’ve never worn so few clothes, and I can feel a breeze everywhere. I’m trying to follow Lyla’s advice regarding men being visual creatures, and it’s high-time I test the theory.
“Happy Saturday,” Sutton says with his back
to me while he dresses up his coffee. “I’d ask you how you slept, but I already know the ans—” he turns to face me and abruptly loses his train of thought.
“Ohhh, yum. Hazelnut creamer,” I say as I retrieve a mug and pretend not to notice the ogling look on Sutton’s face. “What are your plans for the day?” I ask innocently, as I lean back on the counter and bring the mug to my face to hide the smirk resting on my lips.
“I have no plans. You?”
I shake my head playfully slow. But, if I get my way, I’m going to get to know Sutton…Biblically.
“Do you like eggs? I’ll make us some breakfast,” he says, turning around quickly and rifling through the cabinet for a pan.
“Good. I’ll help. I plan on ditching all my life skills classes next week,” I say as I grab the bread to make toast, “So I’ll need all the practice I can get.”
“We actually have to talk about that, because pretty soon, I’m going to get a call that my patient has gone MIA. And I need to decide how I’m going to deal with that.” He walks over to me and stands closer than is strictly polite. “How do you propose I deal with that?” The way he is standing over me, with his bare chest an inch from making contact, dries out my mouth. Then he tips my chin up, so I’m looking in his eyes. “Hmm, Mercy?”
Trying to maintain my slipping composure, I suggest, “How about I call my social worker and tell her I have moved out of the state?”
“Because then you can’t exactly continue your treatment at the hospital, can you?”
“Sutton, you can’t keep me under your thumb. I’ll be twenty-one in a month and a half. Do you know how quickly the doors of the state hospital will slam shut once my stay is no longer paid for by government funds?” I challenge. “Even if you get your way, and continue to treat me at the hospital, it won’t last. You might as well lose track of me right along with Hilary and Theresa.”
He lowers his lips to mine and kisses me softly. “You might be right, but that’s not how I planned it. It’s too abrupt.”