Keeping Secrets

by Lisa Eugene

  I felt utterly naked when he looked at me, exposed and bare. It wasn’t a pretty sight. He should be running away. Anyone in their right mind would. I’d thought he was gone for good when he’d walked out.

  He insisted he loved me, that he wanted a life with me, a future. I loved him, too. Desperately. Completely. But I had trouble latching on to those things. Hope and a future were slippery concepts I had a hard time grasping. The way I felt now, I wasn’t even sure I wanted tomorrow. I was empty inside and had absolutely nothing to give him, nothing to give myself.

  As if sensing my scrutiny, Dex shifted in the chair. His eyes blinked open. The dusky gray brightened and he gifted me a slow, lazy smile. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, as if he’d stirred them with a warm breath.

  “Hope I wasn’t snoring,” he drawled.

  I shook my head, although I’d just awoken myself.

  He looked at Marva who sat rigidly in her chair, then leaned forward and whispered to me. “She doesn’t smile much, does she?”

  Marva was a large woman who sat so still, sometimes it was easy to forget she was there. It was hard for me to believe that someone was actually getting paid to sit and just watch me. What a complete waste of resources.

  I shrugged. “Not much to smile about around here.”

  “Hmm…” He nodded and pushed back in the seat.

  I sat up, slipping my glasses on. “You seem tired. Maybe you should go home and get some sleep.”

  His gaze moved over my face. “I’m having trouble sleeping. I can’t seem to master that thing you do with the sheets.”

  “Huh?”

  “You know, that twisty-wrap thing you do when you tie me to the bed.”

  My brow slid up. I stared curiously. “I don’t tie you to the bed.”

  “Oh,” he murmured straight-faced, then seemed to reconsider. “I mean tie us to the bed.”

  My other brow went up. My gaze slid to Marva. What the hell must she be thinking? “Don’t recall doing that, either.”

  “Oh.” He scratched his jaw thoughtfully. “Hmm…my mistake. Well whatever it is, I can’t seem to get it right.”

  Determined not to let him get to me, I avoided the teasing light in his eyes.

  “Whenever I do it, I end up tangled and twisted, looking like a giant pig-in-a-blanket.”

  I twisted my lips, biting the inside of my cheeks. His words sent all sorts of comical images sprinting through my brain.

  “I have to sleep with scissors under my pillow just so I can cut myself out in the morning. Otherwise, I’m screwed.”

  My downfall was peeking at him. His deadpan, serious expression had the corners of my lips pulling.

  “And I’m not good with scissors. God forbid I should slip. I might end up like Poor Peetie.”

  I lowered my head, finding it hard to keep a straight face.

  “Oh my God!” Dex gasped.

  My gaze shot to him, alarmed. “What?”

  “I know you don’t want this to get out,” he whispered. “but I think you just smiled.”

  I rolled my eyes and I actually did smile then. I couldn’t help it. He always did this to me. I shook my head, though, vigorously denying it.

  “No, really. I’m pretty sure I saw a smile.”

  I lowered my face, shielding my smile. Now the damn thing was full blown, embarrassingly wide. My cheeks must’ve been red, too.

  He turned to Marva, who was regarding us as though we were two exotic zoo animals.

  “Marva? You saw it, too, didn’t you?”

  I was hoping Marva would side with me, after all, we were practically joined at the hip. She nodded, smiling herself.

  Dex gasped again, acting as though some shocking crime had been committed.

  He shook his head in mock dismay, but then broke out in a grin. “Great. Now you have Marva smiling, too. I think you may be contagious.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Dex

  A few days later, I sat at Alexa’s bedside. I’d started to see signs of her old self, fleeting glimpses of the spirit beneath the glum, apathetic exterior. She might not have realized it, but we’d fallen back into our natural rhythm, the easy camaraderie that always flowed freely between us.

  She’d stopped asking me to leave. She’d stopped trying to get me to go home to rest. It was a start. I took that as a good sign. I was willing to cling to anything. I held on to her scarce smiles as a castaway would cling to driftwood. They gave me hope that we could be saved, that the amazing relationship we had could be rescued.

  There was a new roommate in the bed next to Alexa’s. The patient was fast asleep but she’d left her television on. Jeopardy was playing, Alex Trebek rapidly firing questions. Alexa was kicking my ass at the game. I should’ve known better than to challenge her. Marva snickered every time I got an answer wrong, rubbing it in even further.

  “That’s not fair,” I complained to Marva. “She’s like Google personified.”

  Stats shot me a snooty smirk and I grinned. She then proceeded to answer the next five questions in a row correct. Appalled, I shook my head and plugged in my brain cells, trying not to be distracted by the beautiful girl sitting on the bed. Finally, I dug deep and pulled out a correct answer, gloating obnoxiously when I did.

  “That was worth a thousand points, ladies!” I smiled smugly.

  They both looked at me, unimpressed.

  “It was wrong,” Marva said.

  I frowned. “No way.”

  “You didn’t state it in the form of a question.”

  Stats laughed. Actually laughed. The sound hit me square in the chest. I hadn’t heard that laugh in a long time. My Stats laugh. The one I loved. I didn’t even think she realized. I tried not to stare, but it made me so happy I couldn’t help myself. She was beautiful. Her eyes were bright, her skin healthy with color. My eyes ate her up. My ears ate up the musical notes floating from her throat. My lips wanted to devour her.

  Just then, the dinner tray arrived. An orderly slid it onto Stats’ bedside table.

  “Steak and mashed potatoes,” he announced. Surprised to hear the menu items, I turned to stare at the contents of her dinner tray. Red Jell-O, two bowls of broth, tea, and cranberry juice.

  “Steak? Mashed potatoes?” I asked Stats after he’d left.

  She cast a bleak look at her tray. “Yeah, he just likes to say that. I’m still on a clear liquid diet. I think today is my last day. I’m supposed to start solids tomorrow and this should come out.” She pointed to the catheter in her chest that was still feeding her intravenously.

  I surveyed the Jell-O and broth. “Good. That doesn’t look very appetizing.”

  She turned up her nose and issued a careless chuckle. “It isn’t, but at least I’m losing weight.”

  My body stiffened at the words that had slipped out. I felt like someone had just sucker-punched me. Immediately, I locked my gaze onto the backs of her knuckles, looking for signs. I would lose my fucking mind if she was purging again. She must’ve noticed my reaction; her gaze swung to my face. I frowned reprovingly.

  “That’s not funny, Stats.”

  She looked away, silence thickening the air between us. I sat back in the chair, watching her. She’d lost weight. I’d noticed but hadn’t mentioned it. It wasn’t something I thought I should bring attention to. The doctor had said that her esophagus needed time to heal. I’d figured her weight loss was just because she wasn’t yet eating solid food. I hadn’t necessarily thought of it as a good thing. In my opinion, she hadn’t needed to lose weight in the first place. To know that it was still something she focused on was deeply disturbing.

  I’d tried hard not to make my visits uncomfortable. We hadn’t broached any of the issues that swung like a pendulum between us. I’d gone out of my way to avoid them. My focus had been on just getting her to open up to me again, to stop pushing me away. It was only when the nurse interrupted to change the dressings on her wrists, or one of her doctors stopped by, or mome
nts like this, that the pendulum stopped and clobbered me on the head, that cold reality set in.

  She’d be transferred to the psych ward soon. She’d said the doctors were waiting for her to start solids and to finish the course of her IV antibiotics.

  The psychiatrist had started her on an antidepressant which was also used for treating bulimia. I knew it might take a few weeks to see any effects of the drug. Patience. I had to constantly remind myself that the best things in life weren’t rushed. They were slowly nurtured, and eventually cherished because of the time and patience poured into them. In the end, we could tuck them into our hearts where they’d be forever safe.

  I needed to be patient with this relationship, but I would always speak my mind. Stats curled up on the bed, facing away from me.

  “I’m tired,” she mumbled.

  I inhaled deeply. She was pulling away. Shutting down.

  “Maybe you should go,” she added.

  I sighed, hating the sadness in her voice. It gave me gooseflesh, like someone was painting my skin with ice cubes. She probably was tired. I’d been there all evening. I’d come right after her parents had left. My visits were timed to avoid running into them. Loretta usually gave me the heads-up. I looked at my watch. I had another fifteen minutes before visiting hours ended.

  “Stats?” I called gently.

  She ignored me.

  “Stats?”

  Her back stiffened, but she didn’t turn around. Her voice gathered strength and she said sharply, “Just go away!”

  Now I was pissed. “I’m not going anywhere. I have fourteen minutes and thirty-eight seconds left.”

  She flipped over on the bed, her eyes narrowed angrily. “Why the fuck are you here? Why are you doing this? Why don’t you just leave me alone? Don’t you realize that I’m crazy?” she hissed angrily, her eyes wide. “I’m a hot mess, Dex. I’m fucked up. Spare us both the pain and the embarrassment and just leave!”

  Like a crushing blow, each word packed a punch. I refused to react, but deep down I felt the impact. Straightening my back, I stubbornly held her gaze, keeping my face calm.

  Checking my watch, I said, “Thirteen minutes and twenty-two seconds. That’s when I’ll leave. No sooner.”

  “I’m going to call securi—”

  “Thirteen minutes and eighteen seconds.”

  “You are just—”

  “Thirteen minutes and sixteen seconds.”

  “You’re being an asshole!”

  “Thirteen minutes and ten seconds.”

  “I hate you! Go away!” Angry, she grabbed a cup from her dinner tray and flung it at me. Collective gasps came from Marva and the nurse as cranberry juice splashed and decorated the front of my white dress shirt and tie before the container wobbled to the floor with a clink.

  Startled shock widened her eyes. I inhaled deeply, sitting absolutely still, wishing we weren’t in a room with prying eyes. Doing a slow count to rule the anger rolling through me, I held her astonished gaze and slowly reached for a napkin.

  “Thirteen minutes and eight seconds. No sooner.”

  “Ugh!” She tossed up her arms in annoyance, then flipped over on the bed and gave me her back.

  I dabbed at my ruined shirt, trading my anger for frustration. Absurdly, I wanted to pull her over my knee, part the flimsy hospital gown to expose her delectable ass, and spank it until she stopped giving me attitude. Instead, I sat silently, my gaze digging a hole in her back for thirteen very long minutes.

  Time up, I shifted from the chair to the edge of the bed, running my palm slowly along her arm. She turned onto her back and faced me, looking sadder than I’d ever seen her.

  “I love you,” I said, staring into her eyes.

  She blinked hard, remaining silent. Usually before I left, I’d place a chaste kiss on her forehead, but I needed more tonight. Leaning down, I brushed my lips against hers. I was thrilled she didn’t pull away. Warmth coursed through my body, heating as it traveled lower. Her lips parted and I slipped in my tongue, sampling the sweetness of her mouth.

  The kiss was slow, drugging, filled with understanding and forgiveness. It had been too long since I’d tasted her. A breathy sigh fanned my cheek and I had to stifle a groan. Someone cleared their throat behind us and I pulled back, my body staging a protest.

  I turned to see Amy, Stats’ therapist, standing by the bed with amusement in her eyes. Stats looked up, her cheeks flushing pink as Marva grinned broadly.

  Shit. We were the local peep show. All the heart monitors must be going off. I brushed my lips across her forehead.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I whispered.

  She nodded. Tears filled her eyes as her gaze moved to my shirt. “I—I’m sorry.”

  “Shh…I never really liked this shirt, anyway.” I brought a finger to her lips and smiled, then kissed her forehead again.

  Wishing everyone a good night, I took my leave. Emotions surfaced that I didn’t know how to sort out. Stats was dealing with a lot. Her lashing out was a natural response.

  That kiss had been damn near euphoric, reminding me of how much I missed her. No matter how tightly I wrapped up tonight, I’d still feel her absence.

  Patience.

  When you find yourself,

  it’s okay to admit that you may

  have gotten lost along the way

  Alexa

  A choking breath woke me a few mornings later. It took a full minute to realize I was still in the hospital, and my body tensed. The reality of my surroundings, the events of the last few weeks, all my failures exploded like a bomb inside me. I thought about school and the abrupt ruination of my career. Four years of sacrifice and study, not to mention the financial strain on my parents—ruined.

  I saw disappointment in their eyes when they visited. I could almost hear my father’s punishing voice. I’d screwed up, lost focus, lost control. Weakness had allowed my dark insecurities, this madness inside me to take over, to ruin me. If I hadn’t been distracted, I wouldn’t have been so easily preyed upon. I wouldn’t have been such an easy target for Rhonda. I was certain she was the one responsible for my expulsion, but I couldn’t lay all the blame at her feet. I had no one to blame but myself.

  I’d always hated the feelings inside that filled me with crippling anxieties. I’d never understood the melancholy that kept me in bed for days on end, or the compulsions that had become an overwhelming focus. As a teen, I’d hated myself for not being normal, for not fitting in.

  My father had said that I could control this weakness, my impulses, that if I tried hard enough, I could master my mind. I’d tried so hard, but the feelings overwhelmed me, always finding a way to be expressed. I’d allowed them to consume me and now life was a disaster, my career destroyed, my relationship with Dex, wrecked. I was a huge disappointment to my parents. Where would I find the strength to pick up the pieces? I was still in agony. I woke up every day feeling hopelessly lost and filled with yawning emptiness.

  I drew up my knees and wrapped my arms around them to keep from shaking. Panic tightened my throat, the raw pain of failure moving through my limbs. My heart quaked as my breath shortened.

  What if I never got better? What if I never learned to control these feelings? I’d already failed at everything else. I’d lived with these demons for so long, they were woven into my psyche. I hated being like this, hated myself for feeling this wretched. What right did I have to feel this way? What was wrong with me? Why wasn’t I normal?

  Amy had said it was okay to feel. She’d encouraged it, seeming more worried when I’d given in to apathy. I’d welcomed the perpetual numbness, a consciousness that would anesthetize my despair. It was hard not to feel when Dex was here every day, when he regarded me with hopeful gray eyes, when his touch was nothing but tenderness. It was impossible to close my heart to him when all I wanted to do was entrust it in his care.

  But opening myself up to those feelings, allowed others to leak in, like water through cracks in a wall. Mome
nts like this, I felt smothered, despondent, out of control. Fear and doubt paralyzed me, and a horrible sense of foreboding followed. Emotions rushed like a tsunami over me, drowning me until I was gasping for breath. I curled under the sheets, tears flowing freely.

  I heard the curtain pull around my bed. I was grateful someone gave a thought to my privacy. I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder. My nurse. She leaned close to my ear.

  “Are you okay?”

  Unable to speak, I shook my head. My breaths were choking out now. The more I tried to hold them in, the worse they became.

  “Do you want to talk, tell me what’s going on?”

  I shook my head.

  “Would you like something to help?”

  I exhaled on a sob, hating the fact that I was breaking down in front of a total stranger. I shook my head. I didn’t want the Xanax. It would knock me out for the entire day, make me feel worse.

  “Would you like me to call someone?”

  “No,” I cried. “Please…just leave me alone.”

  Later, I sat across from Amy. She was patient with me, but I had nothing to give her. My words were muddled in my emotions and lost in the labyrinth of my thoughts. I had a hard time separating them and defining what I was feeling with any truth that was reliable.

  “It will be easier when you’re on psych,” she said. “You’ll start individual and group behavioral therapy and our sessions will be more consistent.”

  I nodded silently and she continued, “You’ll also have a lot more privacy and freedom than you do here.” Her gaze moved to my night table, to the spiral notebook. “Have you done any journaling? Written anything in the book?”

  I shook my head. I found it hard to be passionate about anything at the moment. My reasons for living were fuzzy. She gave me a friendly smile and stood. “Okay then, maybe tomorrow.”

  She was always the optimist. After she left, I settled in bed, ready to pull the covers back over my head when my nurse announced that I had visitors. I groaned inwardly as John, Tina, and Monika walked in. They seemed less wary this time and genuinely excited to see me. Despite my long day, I tried to look at the visit in a positive light. They were the closest to friends I’d ever had.