Just As Much

by Noelle R. Henry

  “You’re a senior. How did you end up randomly selecting?”

  “My friends live in the frat house and I can’t focus there.”

  “Glad I one up a smelly football player. Goodnight, kitten.”

  “Goodnight, Baby Girl,” he says, and I turn out the lights.

  “Okay, where does kitten come from?” he asks in the dark, and I tell him about the BDSM reference. And then I explain it beyond that.

  “And besides, the name of the female anatomy you are so obsessed with is another name for kitten,” I say breaking out into a fit of giggling.

  “You’re evil. Plain evil.”

  “I think our nicknames are cute,” I say laughing and he chuckles.

  “Call me kitten in public and I will never forgive you,” he says, and I laugh again.

  “You called a self-proclaimed feminist, Baby Girl. What did you expect?”

  “Garcia likes being called Baby Girl on Criminal Minds.”

  “Shemar Moore can call me anything and I would like it too,” I say grinning. “Go to sleep.”

  I wake up around ten in the morning, Damian is still asleep, and I let him. I take Zeke out, feed him, and get back into bed. I definitely did not get enough sleep.

  “Morning,” Damian says as I slip back into bed.

  “Shh. I am going back to sleep,” I say.

  “Ahh, I see,” he says getting up and sitting on the edge of the bed.

  “Here I thought we could go and get breakfast,” he says, but I am distracted by the fact that he is in his boxers. But I purposefully don’t let it show, instead I close my eyes.

  “Go back to sleep a few more hours and we can just get lunch,” I whine.

  “Alright, alright,” he says, and I hear him lay back down. But Zeke comes over and whines, jumping up on the bed and nudging me over and over. Shit.

  I get up and Damian does to.

  “Does he want out again? I’ll take him,” he says, and I shake my head.

  “I think you should go,” I say panicking. I can’t have him see this. I can’t. I won’t. He isn’t budging.

  “Leave, Damian. Now!” I say loudly.

  “No, Fee. What’s wrong?” he says, and I refuse to cater to him right now.

  “Get out,” I say seriously. I walk over to the futon and try to get set up in case it comes faster, but Damian is still standing in the middle of my room, staring at me. I move everything but the pillow off the futon. Melody gave it to me because the beds here were so high, she figured it would be safer for me to have it and not have to have an episode on a cold floor. Zeke is still trying to alert me, going bananas.

  “Zeke, timer,” I command, and he gets his timer from his spot in the room.

  “Felicity, what is happening?” Damian says walking over to me. He looks scared and I don’t want him here. It’s harder on the people who watch it. It’s even harder for me when they freak out on me after.

  “Leave!” I yell and he just comes closer and touches my arm. I pull away. I start to smell gasoline and I start to feel really cold. I don’t have it in me to fight him on this, I give up as I grab a towel and lay it on the futon, it has a plastic cover, but just in case.

  “Felicity talk to me,” Damian says coming towards me. I sigh.

  “Don’t touch me. Stay calm. Just let Zeke work, and don’t call 911 unless it doesn’t stop,” I say really quickly, and I get into position. I make sure I lay on my side with my head and mouth facing down so I don’t choke on my own spit. This is a wonderful thing for Damian to witness, I feel embarrassed and like I might cry as I lay there and wait for it to come. What Damian and I have will be over the moment I wake. Zeke licks my hand as my world just fades to black.

  Reality Kicks In

  I wake up crying hysterically. Where am I? I can’t breathe. I try to open my eyes, but the light hurts too much.

  “I hate this,” I hear myself saying.

  “Fee…please don’t cry,” I hear someone say shakily.

  “Please. You’re okay,” the voice adds.

  I try opening my eyes again.

  “There you are,” the man says. He is crying.

  “What happened?” I say groggily to the man, I taste metal in my mouth.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be telling me what the hell happened?” the man says harshly, and I’m confused so confused. I cry. Why is he yelling at me?

  “Damnit,” he says he moves so he is by my head.

  “Fee, what do I do?” the man asks. But I just feel so tired. I want to close my eyes. Everything just hurts.

  I open my eyes again and he is on his phone frantically looking at something.

  “Damian?”

  “The internet said to stay with you until you came to,” he says, and he is hysterical.

  I sit up and it registers. I had a grand-mal on him. I look down at myself and I am wet. Shame sinks in to my chest and I tear up. I wait for it to happen…for him to leave, but he doesn’t.

  He looks at his phone and talks to me.

  “Do you know where you are?” he asks.

  “My dorm room,” I whisper. I reach up to wipe my mouth off, but my arms are shaking too bad. I feel weaker than I normally do.

  “What day is it?” he asks.

  “Saturday,” I say shakily. “I am fully aware. You can stop asking me questions, Damian.”

  “You were in and out of it the last half hour,” he whispers. “I tried to help, but you said not to touch you, and…” he is freaking out. This was sprung on him.

  Zeke is lying beside me on the futon, licking my hand. I pet him.

  “Good boy, Zeke,” I say. I can’t look up at Damian. I try to move but my muscles are so sore. Nan would tell me after one of them:

  Having a seizure is like fist fighting with God, kiddo. Waking up aware is winning, but you’re going to feel it.

  I wince as I try to get up and Zeke comes to me and helps support me.

  Damian is sitting on the futon in a daze. I shakily put my hand on his leg.

  “Damian…” I whisper, “Just go.” This would happen on a night he stayed. No tonic clonics for a year, and it decides to happen when he is here.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he says, and I just shake my head. Now, Damian. You aren’t going anywhere now.

  “I need a phone,” I say, and he silently just hands me his. I look down at it and he is on a Web MD website for epilepsy, looking at how to help someone. I close my eyes. I should have told him before it came to this, he is traumatized. I call Melody.

  “I had one,” I whisper.

  “I’m on my way,” she says immediately with a sigh. Melody works ten minutes away from the university. I really don’t want Damian here when she gets here, it isn’t going to be pretty.

  “My sister is coming, go,” I whisper. He just shakes his head.

  “Not until I know you are okay,” he says.

  “I am mortified enough, just go! I told you to leave. Go!” I shout at him. This is probably the seizure talking and I know it. I am always agitated after one.

  Damian just keeps sitting there, he reaches over and grabs my hand and keeps looking at me like I am going to break. When Melody comes in, I am sitting up with tears running down my face and Damian is still sitting next to me, not knowing what to do except squeeze my hand. He is still in just his boxers.

  “You didn’t mention you had company,” Melody says crouching in front of us. She looks over at Damian and gives me a disapproving look.

  “I came all the fucking way here, Fee, I thought you were alone,” she says rolling her eyes. Mel never really understood the fact that I am not quite all the way there after one, that I am in a fog. “But of course, you don’t even think about that.”

  “He…he doesn’t…” I start and she just rolls her eyes.

  “Yea, whatever, let’s get this over with,” she says. Melody is not a natural caregiver, neither is Daniel, at all.

  “Will you help me get her up?” Melody asks Da
mian, annoyed.

  But Damian just looks at me. I feel his stare even as I look down.

  “Can you get up, Fee? Do you feel okay to stand?” he asks softly.

  “Today please?” she repeats, rudely starting to get me up.

  Melody pulls me up like she always does, sometimes too soon for me to not be dizzy, while Damian gently helps me. I groan, this was a bad one. Damian flinches as he hears my grunt. Melody takes my weight once I am up; Damian’s brain is in as big of a fog as mine is. As he stares, I just look down, shamed. Not only is he seeing me, he is seeing Mel too and she is not in her best form when she has to take care of me.

  “Christ. Get her shower stuff, if you know where it is,” she says looking at my pants and frowning. I feel my cheeks heat up.

  I shake my head and actually look at him. His face is pale, and he’s been crying. I did that. I made a grown man cry. I hold on to Melody.

  Damian picks up his pants off the floor and pulls them on and grabs my robe, a towel, and my shower caddy.

  “I’ll carry them,” he says shakily walking behind Melody and me as she helps me to the lone handicap bathroom down the hall. This is why they placed me here. I never use it, because it is marked “only for people with disabilities” and I hate that. Melody sits me down on the bench in the restroom and takes the caddy and robe from Damian, who is looking at me like I am an alien.

  “I’ve got it from here,” she says as she shuts the door on him. I think I may have successfully scared him away. I just nod and he leaves.

  Melody helps me get undressed and I sit on the shower chair as she helps me get cleaned up. The water is too hot, but I don’t dare say anything. She is already pissed.

  I am crying and Mel ignores it.

  “For a year, you have been fine,” she says. “Did you take your meds? Did you drink?”

  “I took my meds. I didn’t drink,” I say softly.

  “So, I had to leave my life because you stayed up all night banging a hot guy and forgot to take care of yourself,” she says.

  “I am not sleeping with him,” I say softly.

  “Save it, Felicity,” she says as she turns off the water. I wanted to ask her if she would help wash my hair, it will be a greasy mess and I won’t be able to shower for a while, but I am not getting into that. She is in one of her moods.

  “We knew this was coming. College is stress. I told you that I am most likely to have more episodes here. Dr. Mason told you that I was more likely to have episodes here,” I say softly. I normally don’t try to rationalize with her or defend myself. I learned a long time ago that she is just this way and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

  “Yea, well I don’t have the time or the patience for this to be a weekly thing again, Felicity. You have got to try to be an adult and follow the doctor’s orders,” she says still annoyed. I have been. Every single one. I just—I wanted to have fun. I wanted a night out. I didn’t get the recommended sleep amount, but who does in college? I wanted to defend myself again, but it’s a moot point with her.

  “It won’t. I will follow the orders,” I say.

  “You better,” she says. I think of Damian and the look on his face.

  “You know, I’ve never seen one,” I say crying again.

  “What?” Melody says angrily as she dries me off.

  “A seizure. I have them, but I have never actually seen one. I don’t see them, I get them,” I say spitting out blood.

  “They aren’t a joy to see,” she says, trying to be softer. This isn’t her. It never was until Daniel started his episodes. Now she yells too.

  “I didn’t even warn him. He still didn’t know,” I say as my tears turn to sobs.

  “Then you should tell people, it’s stupid that you don’t. If he is good enough to stay the night, he should be good enough to do this,” she says. I hear Daniel’s voice in my head:

  But who would want to be with someone who can’t take care of themselves? She is going to be our burden forever if you don’t cut the ties now, Mel. I’ll do it for you…

  I should have known that it is better to tell someone and rip the band-aid off than to surprise them.

  “He is looking at me like I’m a stranger,” I say, more to myself than to her.

  “I don’t care, Felicity, let’s just get you in bed,” she says exasperated.

  She holds me steady while I wrap my robe around myself. Moving is becoming a little easier—I feel less like I am walking on pillars of sand. But I still feel like my body raged a war while I was sleeping. It hurts to move anything.

  I look in the mirror and open my mouth. I bit my cheek, but that seems to be my only battle scar.

  “Can you walk?” she asks me, and I nod. She stays close, but I make the walk to my bed. Damian was waiting outside the door. He follows us back to the room, still zombie-esqe.

  She starts to head out the moment I am on the bed.

  “Melody…” I sigh and she gives me a look. I just look down at myself and back up at her. I am in my robe.

  Melody looks around in drawers until she finds sweats, underwear, and a shirt.

  Damian notices and steps outside, but I see his hand keeping the door where it won’t shut. Mel helps me balance while I dress.

  “You’re normally moving better than this,” she says aggravated at my slowness.

  “It must have been longer,” I say.

  “You’re busy, I am sorry I had to call,” I say looking down. I hate it when I feel like a burden and Melody knows it.

  “Right,” she scolds, and I just look down. I am too tired. Too embarrassed. “Next time you want to have a one-night stand, clean yourself up. Daniel is going to be pissed enough when he finds out I had to come over in the middle of a workday.”

  “Mel I…” I say.

  “I can’t always be there, Fee. I just can’t,” she says as she leaves.

  In an hour she will call and apologize for being so mean. She always feels bad when she snaps like this. I will forgive her and then she will do it again the next seizure. They say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing and expecting a different result, but in our family, I think we have accepted insanity years ago. We all stay in our characters—Daniel the smartass attorney who likes to yell and hurt the people he cares about, my sister, the HR manager who runs like a chicken with her head cut off to avoid the fact that she is unhappy, and me, the sister who feels like she doesn’t have a family at all.

  I hear him come back in and I instantly shut down. I don’t want him here.

  I turn over to avoid his gaze, it doesn’t help that I am crying. He didn’t just see me having a seizure—he saw Mel in one of her moods and I can’t. I can’t look at him or acknowledge him. I don’t want to hear the excuses or worse, see the look in his eyes now that he knows.

  I hear him grab the keys. I also hear him gather up things around my room. He is picking up the mess--he is going to wash the sheet and my clothes.

  “Don’t Dame, you don’t have to,” I say to him.

  “I know what I have to do and don’t,” he says. “I’m going to put these in the washer. Call if you need me,” he says, lightly touching my back.

  He leaves and I try to calm myself down, although, part of me thinks he won’t come back, making the pain hurt more. He heard all of what Mel said. He saw me seize. If I could crawl in this mattress and never come out, I would. But a half hour later he comes back, and I smell McDonalds.

  I sit up and look his way, but not in the eye. I don’t want to see the look. Not from him.

  He looks slightly better. He is wearing sweats and a t-shirt, and he has brought a bag with him, indicating he plans to stay awhile. However, he has nuggets, so I give him a slight smile.

  “Hungry? I sent Alex out for food,” he asks.

  “Famished,” I say still looking down. He hands me the chicken nuggets and I take them, still careful not to look directly at him.

  “Scoot over,” he says, and I do. He gets in besi
de me, both of us cramming on the twin bed, leaning against the headboard.

  I eat and he just stays quiet. Too quiet for him. I offer the box and he declines by putting up his hand.

  “Are you going to talk to me, or?” I say softly.

  “Are you going to look at me, or?” he retorts in the same tone. Not mockingly. I don’t look up. He isn’t angry, but his tone isn’t his chipper self. He is being serious, and he sounds so worn out.

  “Then I can wait,” he says.

  I keep eating, but the salt is irritating my cheek.

  “You want to know one thing I have noticed about you?” he says sincerely.

  “Shoot.”

  “You don’t look people in the eye when you’re scared.”

  “I am not scared of you, Damian,” I say taking a bite and wishing I had water.

  “Oh yes you are. You’re scared of my reaction. You’re scared because you feel, and when you feel exposed you don’t look at me. Sure, you look towards me, but you don’t look me in the eye when you tell me stories about your past. You didn’t look me in the eye last night when you were telling me that you didn’t think I was the scum of the earth…you don’t like looking at me when there’s a possibility of me seeing more than you want to show.”

  “What’s your point?” I say.

  “My point is I am not having this conversation without you actually looking at me.”

  “Can you get me a water, please?”

  He gets up and gets me a water and himself one too. He opens it for me, and I take a long sip. I reach over and get the Advil I keep by my bed for when I have an episode, tucked between the wooden frame and mattress. I take a couple.

  “If I look at you, I am probably going to see someone who is looking at me like I am fragile, and I don’t want to see that. Not from you.”

  “You’re going to have to look in order to find out,” he says sitting back down so that he is directly in front of me.

  I look up and he isn’t giving me the look. Yes, he looks concerned but he’s not looking at me like I am an alien anymore, he is looking at me like he is scared—and mad. Very, very mad.

  “How are you? Are you okay?” he asks.