by Amie Knight
I ignored everyone and everything. I didn’t go to therapy. I didn’t take my walks. She might be out there waiting for me. She probably was. I felt like she’d always be. It was as comforting as it was frightening.
So I took my pills and tried to forget. My nightmares raged at night, so I slept during the day. I hardly ate. I stayed in my bed, my hand on the wall that separated me and my Mae.
She was stubborn and fucking hard-headed and I reckoned she’d never give up on me, but I had to make her. So I ignored her. I acted as if she didn’t exist. It wasn’t hard, I told myself. I’d just treat her like I treated everyone else. But I couldn’t help but check my phone when she texted, and she texted often.
Day one was just a simple good night, Holden.
But day two was harder. Because she started with her knock knock jokes. I loved it when she was cute.
Mae: Knock knock
Mae: Answer me, Hold. I’m worried.
Mae: Okay, then, Steel. I’ll do this myself. Who’s there?
Mae: Cynthia
Mae: Cynthia who?
Mae: Cynthia you been away, I’ve missed you.
I didn’t laugh. I was just fucking sad. But still, I coveted her messages. They were the one shining light in my dreary, cold days. My sister tried to contact me, but I avoided her, too. I wouldn’t let her see me like this. I’d hide from her and Mae. They were both too good for me anyway.
Day three and four were more knock knock jokes. And more pills. And more sleep. And more nightmares. More texts.
Mae: Are you a campfire? ’Cause you’re hot and I want s’more.
She’d brought out the big guns with the come on lines. I did smile at that one and took another pill. She could keep her cute jokes. I’d keep my damn smiles.
And so it went for days and nights. And before I knew it, I didn’t know what day it was anymore. Or how long I hadn’t seen Mae. I hardly knew up from down or left from right. It was oblivion. It was bliss. The small white tablets liberated me in that way. They made me forget her. But they also made me forget myself. I loved them as much as I hated them because the stronger they made me feel, I knew the weaker I became. But I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t, because then I’d have to face reality and my reality was shit. I knew I was becoming the kind of person I hated most in the world. Weak.
The weaker I became the weaker my resolve, though. All it took was a nightmare to end all nightmares for me to cave. I was dozing. It was that place between sleep and wake where dreams seemed so vivid. So very fucking real.
I was on the stretcher, fire in my leg, the thumping of the chopper in the background. But it wasn’t Davies carrying me to safety. It was my sweet Mae.
“No!” I yelled, but no sound came. My screams lost in the wind, masked by the drumming of a helicopter. I tried to reach my bloodied hand out to her, but I was too late. A bullet hit her square between the eyes, sending her and my stretcher down in a heap.
I screamed myself awake, a blanket of cold sweat cloaking my body, pounding in my chest, my shaking fist clutched around my sweaty bedding. It had been too long since I’d taken my pills. I needed them. I reached to the bedside table but found the bottle empty. How had that happened? When had it happened? Fuck, I needed them.
I’d just go get a refill. I rolled to the side of the bed and reached for my leg and sleeve. I looked down and realized I only had on my boxer briefs. I found my sweatpants and T-shirt on the floor and grabbed my keys. I was lucid enough to know I wasn’t fit to drive, but I could walk to a nearby pharmacy.
Symptoms of PTSD
Physical Pain
Nightmares and Flashbacks
Depression and Anxiety
Eight days. Eight long, agonizing days since I’d seen Holden. I laid in bed stunned. I couldn’t believe it. He was really avoiding me. He didn’t leave and go to his appointments. He didn’t go anywhere really. And I’d been watching. We all knew I was a professional watcher and I hadn’t seen him in eight days. How was he eating? Getting his therapy for his leg? I was a freaking worried mess. I’d knocked on his door on more than one occasion. I sent texts. I called. Nothing.
I would’ve been worried he was dead and alone in that small apartment except for the fact that I could hear his nightmares all hours of the day now. I heard his shouts and the wall between our bedrooms shook with the force of an earthquake. And I’d put my hand to the wall near tears for him. I wanted to comfort him, so I sent funny jokes, but he never responded.
I tried to continue on with my life as normally as I could. I put books in the library, but I didn’t take great pleasure in it. I went to cuddle the babies because they needed cuddling and so did I, but I didn’t get that fulfilled feeling I usually had when I left my sweet babies. I’d hold the sweet baby and look at the rocking chair next to me, wishing Holden were there. I read my favorites books, but my heart wasn’t in it. My heart was across the hall in the next apartment over.
I missed him. Even though he had scared me, I still missed him.
I loved him, that’s why I couldn’t enjoy the things I used to. Because he wasn’t with me. I walked around, my soul only half full, my heart only partially beating.
It was the ninth day at 2:00 a.m. when I heard Holden scream his way awake. It scared me to death that wail. It was probably the worst I’d ever heard. I tried texting him, but once again I didn’t get an answer.
So I laid there staring at the ceiling, praying for a dang answer. Maybe I could find his sister. He had said her name was Harper. Maybe she wasn’t married. Maybe her name was Harper Steel. It was clear he wasn’t letting me in. I had to do something.
I heard what sounded like an apartment door opening, and I jumped from the bed and bolted to my front door. I was only wearing a snug tank top and short sleep shorts, but I didn’t care. I swung it open, hope firmly lodged in my chest. My hopes were answered in the form of Holden making his way clumsily down the steps. I couldn’t see his face since he was already headed down, so I called out to him.
“Hold,” I said softly as to not scare him.
He grabbed the railing in the stairway so he could turn my way and when he did, I couldn’t help but gasp.
He looked terrible. It had only been eight days, but he looked so bad it could have been an eternity. His clothes were wrinkled. He looked pale and like he’d lost at least ten pounds. But what really scared me were his eyes. They were unfocused, hazy, and rimmed with the darkest circles I’d ever seen.
“Mae?” he asked like he couldn’t believe I was there, like I was some kind of ghost.
I took a tentative step down carefully. Slowly as to not scare him. He was like a big, old unpredictable wild animal, and I was terrified he’d run from me.
“Yeah, honey, it’s me. You doing okay?”
He didn’t look even a little okay. He looked stoned and sickly. It scared me to death. It made me think of my friend, Lori, and how I couldn’t save her. My stomach hurt at the sight of him. Maybe I couldn’t save Holden either.
He closed his eyes and shook his head, leaning on the side of the stairwell, and I walked down the steps more quickly. I needed to get to him. My heart banged behind my chest.
I felt like I couldn’t breathe until he was in front of me. I laid my hand to the side of his face, my palm to his cheek, and he leaned in, nuzzling me.
“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he slurred out.
He was breaking my heart. I ran my thumb along the scar over his eyebrow. “I’ve missed you, too, big guy,” I whispered. “Can you tell me what you’ve taken?”
He jerked his face from my hand like it was on fire. “I need to go.”
I grabbed his face in both of my hands this time, directing his dark brown, hazy eyes my way. “Where are you going, honey?”
He tried to pull his face back, but I held tight. I wasn’t letting him leave my sight. He was a danger to himself and others at this point.
“I have to run an errand.”
I dropped my hands from h
is face and grabbed his hands instead, pulling him back up the steps. I was careful because I was heading up backward.
“Holden, nothing’s open right now. It’s almost three in the morning. Why don’t we go back upstairs and lie down? We can go out in the morning.”
“It’s three in the morning?” he asked, looking shocked.
“Yes, come on. Let’s get you to bed.”
We were almost to the top of the stairs when he jerked his hands from mine. “I don’t want to go to sleep,” he barked loudly.
I grabbed his hands tenderly again, trying to keep my cool. Trying to not be scared out of my mind. He was obviously high as a kite and on a good day his behavior was erratic at best. I didn’t want to set him off, but there was no way I was leaving him alone like this.
“Is it because of the dreams?” I asked, pulling him up the last step and pushing his door open.
He nodded. “The nightmares. Not dreams,” he drunkenly muttered as we entered his apartment.
I looked around, noting the place was clean and didn’t look too bad, but Holden looked like he hadn’t bathed in days, so I took him toward his bedroom with the en suite bath. I wanted to take more of everything in since I’d never been invited into his apartment, but it was dark, and I needed to get him to shower and to bed.
“What if I stay here with you, Hold? Maybe I can keep the bad dreams away?” I knew I was talking to him like a scared child, but in that moment, that’s how he appeared. So vulnerable. So very childlike. I wanted to hug him. Hold him until he felt better.
He stopped right outside his bathroom, studying me, his drugged eyes sad. “That’s not a good idea. I could hurt you.”
My heart dropped. My throat felt tight and raw. “Honey, you’d never hurt me. Not on purpose.” I took his hand in mine and brought it to my face, pressing his palm there.
He rubbed his thumb along the apple of my cheek and shook his head. “No, I’d never hurt you purposefully. You’re my best friend in the world. You’re my everything. You’re my Mae.”
I knew in that moment I’d never give up on him. I gave him a watery smile. “You’re my best friend, too.” I swallowed the emotion down. I had work to do. “So how about you let me help you get a shower and get some rest and tomorrow I’ll take you to run your errand. Okay?”
He nodded and I pushed him to the bathroom, where I turned the shower on and turned back to Holden. I had a bit of a conundrum on my hands. How did I get this big man undressed? And how did I get him undressed without ogling him like a creeper? Because let’s face it, I was kind of a creeper. And he was tall, like way freaking tall. How was I supposed to get his shirt off? He didn’t seem to have these same concerns. He just leaned against the wall in the bathroom as the steam from the shower enveloped the room.
Having an idea, I lowered the toilet lid and stood on it and called Holden over.
His face was right at booby level, but hey, that was what I had to work with.
“Raise your arms,” I ordered. He obliged and I grabbed the hem of his shirt, giving myself one heck of a pep talk.
When Holden and I had been together, I hadn’t had a chance to really look at him. It had been fast and frantic. He hadn’t even taken off his pants, though I wondered if that had to do less with how fast things went and more about his prosthesis.
Don’t look at his pecs. Or his nipples. Definitely not his nipples. And don’t you dare check out his abs. Just say no, Miranda.
But as soon as I slipped the T-shirt over his head and past his arms, he pulled me in for a hug and laid his head right on my girls. Of course, I wasn’t wearing a bra. And I wasn’t one of those girls who didn’t need a bra. I was one of those girls who needed the big bras with the underwire and lots of padding because I had lots of boobs. It wasn’t awkward at all, him hugging my naked breasts.
“God, I’ve missed you,” he slurred out again, and I couldn’t help but wrap my arms around his shoulders and hug him back, big braless boobies and all. He probably wouldn’t remember this tomorrow anyway.
“Okay, big guy. We gotta get your shoes off, and your pants off next.” And then I remembered his prosthesis.
I pulled out of our breasts-loving hug and hopped off the lid to the toilet and pushed Holden down onto it. I got down on my knees and removed his sneakers, trying to not pay too much attention to the prosthesis. I didn’t want to make him feel insecure.
“Stand up, again,” I demanded, and he did what I asked right away. It was the first time I’d been at chest level, and I had a very hard time keeping my eyes off his rock-hard stomach and broad shoulders. I pretty much looked everywhere but at him.
“Can you take off your pants? Or do you need help?”
He pushed his hands into the waistband of his pants and started pushing them down past his hips. And, oh, dear God. Delicious six pack abs. A smattering of hair that trailed down his stomach and farther down. The V. The coveted book boyfriend V. The muscles very low on the hips that framed a man’s, well, manhood. It was exquisite. Holden had the V and it was so very defined and absolutely marvelous.
I shouldn’t be looking. This was perverted. I was being a pervert. The man was in need for gosh darn sake!
I turned my back to him. “Well, it looks like you have things under control. You take a shower. I’ll make you something to eat.”
I stalked out of the bathroom quickly and noticed it didn’t smell too fresh in the bedroom. I walked over to Holden’s bed and turned on the lamp on the nightstand. I noticed an empty pill bottle on his nightstand. At least now I could see what he had taken. I wondered if this was where he was headed because he was clearly stoned out of his mind. I checked the name of the medicine on the label and looked it up on my phone. This was probably an invasion of privacy, and he most likely wouldn’t like it, but I didn’t care. It was for pain as needed every four hours, filled not even two weeks ago. He was obviously taking way more than he should. But what did I know? Maybe he was in pain? At least now I knew what I was dealing with. Sort of. A small part of me panicked. I thought of my friend Lori. How we’d lost her so quickly. I refused to lose Holden like that.
I stripped the sheets and threw them in the washing machine and got it going. I walked next door to my place and grabbed a bottle of Febreeze and sprayed the heck out of his mattress. His linen closet was in the same place as mine, so I found some fresh sheets easily and made his bed.
I checked his fridge and cupboard for food, but just like I thought there wasn’t much there. A stick of butter and some expired milk wasn’t going to cut it.
The water was still running in the shower, so I ran next door again and made Holden a peanut butter and honey sandwich. I also grabbed him a bag of chips. I was almost out the door when I went back and grabbed him an apple. I didn’t need him bellyaching about me not bringing him anything healthy.
By the time I got back to his apartment, Holden was sitting on the edge of his bed in a towel, looking half asleep. His shoulders were slumped forward and his eyes were closed, but he was sitting up.
“Hey, big guy,” I said quietly into the dimly lit room. “How about you put some pants on and eat this delicious sandwich yours truly made you?”
He looked up at me and blinked, seemingly surprised to find me there.
“You made me a sandwich?”
“I did.” I sat next to him on the bed, then placed the plate in my lap and passed him half. “It’s peanut butter and honey.”
He took the sandwich and practically shoved the entire half in his mouth and chewed. I passed him the other half and opened the bag of chips, offering it to him.
He snatched the bag and turned, bringing his metal prosthesis up onto the bed slowly and then his other leg, and leaned back on his headboard. He was still wearing that towel that seemed to be riding farther and farther up his thighs by the minute. It split open right along the thick thigh of his good leg and I couldn’t help but admire the muscle in that leg.
He looked like a big, powerf
ul lion lounged back against his headboard. His hair a wet mess, his muscles on full display. I wanted to pet him, well, everywhere, but I wasn’t a fool. Holden looked harmless, but I knew better.
He pulled some chips out of the bag in his lap and threw them in his mouth. He chewed and swallowed. “What are you doing here, Mae?”
I realized his eyes looked a bit clearer. “I saw you in the hallway,” I stuttered out. “I just wanted to help.”
I looked at my lap, embarrassed that I was there. Like I was somehow encroaching on him.
“I know that, but why are you here? Aren’t you scared of me? Of what I did to you? Aren’t you scared I’ll do it again?” His face was a blank mask.
I didn’t have a clue what he was thinking, but I knew I could only give him my honesty. No matter how it hurt him. I wouldn’t lie to him, ever.
I tossed the apple in my hand onto his lap next to the bag of chips. “Sometimes.”
He scoffed and sneered at me then. “And yet here you are.”
I nodded. He could think me a fool. He could think me naive and stupid, but I knew better. “Here I am.” I paused on a hard swallow. “A lot of things scare me, but I don’t let my fear hold me prisoner. I fight it.” I made sure he was looking right at my face when I continued. “Some things in life are worth fighting for even if they scare the heck out of you.”
He nodded, looking forlorn. “And I’m one of those things, huh?” He didn’t look happy about it.
“You said it yourself, we’re best friends, Hold. I’ll always fight for you. Even when you won’t fight for yourself.”
He was quiet for too long, lost in his head. He let out a long breath and looked resigned and held his left arm up and out. “Well, come on up here, friend. I see you eyeing my chips.”
I giggled as I climbed to the middle of the bed and snuggled in against him. I tried not to pay a lick of attention to the fact that he was wearing only a towel. I didn’t even notice how freaking amazing he smelled. Not even a little bit.
“’Bout time, greedy mofo.” I snatched the back of chips from his lap and placed it in mine. That earned me a lip twitch I hadn’t seen in far too long. I’d aim for the dimple next time.