by M. Piper
“Gabby, just tell me what’s wrong,” I push, walking towards her and taking her arm in my hand gently. She turns and her light brown eyes hit mine again and my heart sinks. She’s so sad. “Please.”
“They let me go,” she sniffles. “The fucking firm filled my position last week when I didn’t show.” Fuck. She was fired because of me. Shit!
“Gabby… shit. This is all my fault. I’m so sorry,” I say, taking her in my arms. She won’t let me coddle her, though. Like she doesn’t want help… which makes no sense because she came to me. What the hell is happening? “Didn’t you have leave to take?” I’m so confused why they’d fire her without any warning.
She shakes her head and sniffles.
“I haven’t been there long enough. It’s nothing. I’ll find another job, I just… after last week… and I haven’t been feeling well… and shit.” She curses, shaking her head. “God, you’re probably thinking I’m bat shit crazy right now!” her laughter fills the room, but it’s not happy laughter. It’s scared laughter.
“Gabby, I don’t think you’re crazy,” I say, taking her hands in mine. “I love you, Gabby.”
The second the words slip out of my mouth, I see her face fall, and know I didn’t exactly do that right. Fuck. Oh shit, what did I just do?
“I mean… You’re… I…” I try to justify my words. I try to make it not look so scary to her… but I can’t. I fucking love her, lies and all.
What the hell is wrong with me?
“Oh,” her eyes go wide and her hands start to tremble in mine.
Well, that’s a fucking reaction someone wants to see when he or she admits their love.
“I have to go,” she whispers, and then takes out of my office like a scared cat.
What the fuck?!
Just Relax
Gabby
“Jesus Christ, Gabby! What the fuck were you thinking?” Jordan’s voice screams from behind me.
“I was fucking thinking of keeping my baby away from them!” I scream, rounding on him, preparing myself for a hit that never comes. It’s not typical of him to hit me, but he’s had his moments.
“They are your goddamned parents, Gabrielle,” he growls, stepping close enough for me to feel his breath on my skin.
Beer. It always smells like beer.
“You know, for someone four years older than me, you sure are stupid,” I snap, immediately feeling the sting on my face from his slap. There it is.
“You will let them see him.” His menacing whisper makes my skin prickle.
“Over my dead body,” I whisper, trying to keep the tremble out of my voice.
***
Jolting up in bed, covered in sweat, it takes me a moment to reacquaint myself with my surroundings.
I’m safe. I’m in my bedroom.
I’m alone.
The pills I took today when I finally made it home kicked me on my ass almost immediately. I’ve been out since then, and glancing at the clock… that was about seven hours ago. Shit. Groaning, I stand and try to clear my head from the day’s events.
I was fired today. Not even fired, but ‘let go’. Assholes were clever in their wordage, so I can’t collect anything from them, which makes it hurt even more. They were more than happy to let me have the leave last week, because, according to Lance, they’d already replaced me. Leaving my email accounts open was a mistake, leading me to believe I still would have a job walking in today, but I should have known better. I pretty much told my boss to go fuck herself last time I saw her. I’m honestly surprised she didn’t fire me right then.
My situation couldn’t be any worse right now. I lost my job… my one source of income. I have maybe a half of a month’s worth of money saved up for rent and other bills. My boyfriend just told me he loves me… which, to any other girl, would be fantastic, but to me that just means more heartbreak on the way for all of us. My best friend won’t stop bugging me about talking to my boyfriend and telling him the truth, so I now regret my decision to ever tell her about what happened to me.
This is why I try not to get attached to people! Sure, at the moment, I’m really the only one suffering, but I can’t let it get worse or I may not come back from it. I need to stay away from Benton. I need to stay inside my apartment and job hunt.
I need to get back to what I’m used to, and who I’m used to being.
Several times throughout the night of job hunting, I pick up my phone and attempt to call over Ellie, but I never do. I don’t cheat, and, without talking to Benton and officially breaking things off, I can’t just go back to my old fuck partner.
I promised Dr. Travers I’d lay low until Thursday, so that’s what I’ll do. I’ll job hunt from inside the apartment, and not leave unless it’s an emergency. The anxiety isn’t terrible between these walls. I know I’m safe here, and, if I have no contact with anyone, I can’t hurt anyone. I can stay on my low pill regimen, and not have attacks every time I see a child on the sidewalk walking without holding his mother’s hand, or every time I notice that someone’s not buckled into their car correctly. All the small things that normally go unnoticed by regular people eat at me from the inside, but, from inside my apartment, I can’t see them so they don’t exist.
The phone call from my mother a few weeks ago at work has me on edge, but I’d never tell anyone that. That’s something I won’t even tell Dr. T. I’m sure he’d have me in protective custody, and police all over me, if he found out I think she’s trying to find me. I still remember her words to me last time I saw her.
***
“You’re the reason they are dead. I hope you never forget that,” she growls from the side of me as she walks out of my child’s funeral. “If I ever see you around here again, I’ll make sure to end your sad fucking life myself.”
***
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.
“You told me he lost his mom last week. He lost his wife last year. He has a baby, Gabby. He might not be a knight in a Porsche, riding off into the sunset and going on exotic vacations, but if someone who’s been through that much loss can love again… I mean, he has a daughter, he wouldn’t just go around proclaiming love to the first woman he meets, don’t you think?”
He has a point. Benton’s been through as much heartbreak as I have, and has had less time to process it as me. I can’t say I’ve processed well, but if he’s willing to put his heart out there again, why can’t I? I know what I feel; I’m not stupid. I know these last few days without him have hurt more than the constant thought that I’m going to end up hurting one of them. That alone should be my sign that I need to give it a real go. I need to tell him my feelings.
“You’re right,” I say, calming a little and sitting back on the couch. “I think it’s time I tell him how I feel. I need to apologize,” I whisper.
“Gabby, have you told him the truth yet? Does he know what happened to you?”
My eyes flick to his, and I start to panic. “No. No, he doesn’t, but… but, if I… if I tell him-”
“He’s going to want to help you, Gabby. He’s not running from you. Not now, not ever. You have to have a little more faith in the man,” he says, almost like he’s getting annoyed with me. Like he’s rooting for Benton without even knowing him. It’s cool that I have a shrink that isn’t afraid to show his emotions, but I want to be coddled, dammit! At least a little bit.
“I know,” I mutter. “It’s just scary… that’s all.”
“Eventually, you have to let go of your fear and start to trust him,” he says, shrugging. “I have a client booked after you, Gabby. Let’s talk about the medicine you’ve been misusing,” he says, signaling for me to move on from my pity party.
He’s right, though. I do need to put more trust in Benton, and in myself. What could telling him everything hurt?
Everything. It could hurt everything.
We spend the rest of my hour talking about ways other than meds to help calm myself. He wants to start seeing me once a week again until things normalize, which I’m okay with. If talking shit out with my shrink helps me keep a straight head on my shoulders, I’m down. By the end of the appointment, I feel better about the situation with Benton and I’m no longer
stressed about the job situation either. Dr. T has a strange way of calming me.
“So, I’ll see you next week, then? I’ll leave this block open for you every week if this works?” he says, ushering me to the door. Strange, he never walks me out of his office.
“Yeah. That works,” I mutter, trying to keep my head down. I hate looking at the people in the waiting room. They all know I’m crazy when I walk out of his office, and I don’t like it when they stare.
“Great, I’ll see you then,” he says, and opens the door for me to leave as he calls the next patient in.
“Benton, you ready?” his voice rings from behind me, and I immediately jerk my head up to see Benton’s worried face staring at me. Fuck.
“Uh… Yeah,” he mutters, then nods at me as he follows Dr. T back to his office, only looking back once to make sure he wasn’t seeing something.
I stand there in shock that that just happened, staring at the door as it clicks closed behind him.
What the hell?
A Set Up
Benton
“What was that?” I ask, as the door clicks behind me. Dr. Travers hasn’t looked at me the entire walk back to his large office. That was definitely Gabby back there, and she was definitely coming from an appointment with him. Why else would she have looked so frazzled? “Dr. T?” I demand, like he owes me something.
He fucking does owe me something. I know he had a hand in that.
“Yes?” he asks from his desk chair.
“Did you plan that? You never walk patients out,” I grind out. He knows something. Why else would he have done that?
“What’s so wrong with wanting to stretch my legs?” He stretches his legs out in front of him and groans. “I’m getting too old for this sitting around all day.”
His eyes catch mine, and I know he’s lying. I narrow my eyes at him and shake my head. Why would he have done that? He knows from my phone call the other day I’m having issues with this whole thing. I want her so fucking bad, and these last couple of days with her ignoring me has been hell, but I’ve been giving her the space she needs. Every morning that I’ve woken up with no response to my texts, and no missed calls, I lose a little bit of hope. I need her in my life, but, if she can’t open up to me, I’m not sure how to help her.