Just As Much

by Noelle R. Henry

  “I’m exhausted, but I’ll be fine after some sleep.”

  “You scared the crap out of me,” he says, and I nod. I know I did. He was in hysterics when I woke up.

  “I’m sorry, I…,” I start, but he interrupts me.

  “You have nothing to apologize for, Felicity,” he says. But I see the anger in his eyes, obviously I do.

  “I made it worse, you had no clue what was going on. I should have told you. And you’re mad…”

  I look down.

  “Can you please look at me?” he sighs, and I look up, mostly at the lack of anger in his tone. He touches my hand.

  “Yes, Fee, I am mad, but not at you, okay?” he says, and I nod.

  “I should have told you. I just…I like it when people don’t know. You’re going to think every twitch I have is going to be a grand mal now, and you’re already weirdly overbearing.”

  “People caring about you isn’t being overbearing. It is normal.”

  “It’s not my normal,” I say, and he just looks sad over that one.

  “I will admit, I wish you would have told me,” he says, and I look away again. He squeezes my hand.

  “But only because if I would have known I would have been prepared. I would have asked you beforehand what you needed. I would have researched. I would have known how to take care of you instead of sitting there like a helpless fool. If I would have known, I would have taken ten times better care of you than that horrible treatment I just witnessed. You deserve better. I am pissed at your sister, not you. I am pissed that I sat there unable to help, not at you.”

  “You’re mad because you wanted to help me?” I ask.

  “A Labrador knew how to do more than I did, Fee. A fucking Labrador,” he says, and I can’t help it. I laugh.

  “This is not funny!” he says but he is laughing too. We both are in hysterics and it hurts to move so much, but I’m loving just hearing him laugh after seeing him so upset.

  He is really here. He isn’t running away, of course, he doesn’t know the semantics, but he has seen the worst of it.

  “Will you get that timer on the floor over there?” I say, looking at where Zeke left it. Damian hands it to me and it says two minutes, fifty-one seconds. No wonder he was so upset—that is my longest seizure to date, almost too long.

  “He stopped it right when you stopped,” he says looking down himself.

  “I wish you didn’t see that,” I say.

  “I wish you didn’t have to go through that,” he says, and I shrug.

  “You should go,” I whisper.

  “Here is what is going to happen. I am going to get back in bed with you and you are going to sleep. And I will sleep, or I will just lay here, but I need to be here because I need to know you are okay.”

  “You don’t have to be in bed with me to know that I am okay,” I say glaring at him.

  “Can I not just hold you for a bit? Friends comfort each other, Fee.”

  “You’re crossing the zone,” I say, and he shakes his head.

  “I am not trying to get laid right now, Fee!” he says rolling his eyes. The poor man is so confused he thinks that it is either all about sex or no sex. He doesn’t even consider the fact that holding me is something a boyfriend would do right now.

  “I know that,” I say. “But you’re edging into boyfriendy territory and I don’t do that,” I say.

  “Just lay down, Fee,” he says, and I do. He lays down next to me and puts his arm around me.

  “Relax. I know I am zoned, okay,” he says chuckling, but I am too busy. Instead of feeling the usual sparks, this time I feel something more. I feel safe. Really safe, and I have never had that before. Not really. A man that sleeps with everyone should not make you feel this secure, Fee. I’m screwed.

  I wake up and it is dark out. I am laying on Damian’s chest and he is using the arm that isn’t around me to read on his phone.

  “Morning,” he says. I look at the time on his phone, it’s nearly eight—PM.

  “You’re still here?” I say. It’s been hours.

  “It appears so,” he says, and I don’t know how I feel about that. I feel overly exposed—the only people who have taken care of me after as seizure have been Mel and Daniel, and they have been sick of it for a while, nearly as sick of it as I am.

  I must look sad, because Damian’s concern grows on his face.

  “I need to pee,” I say softly.

  I get up and I am still so sore. I have to stop for a second.

  “Fee?” he asks.

  “Just sore,” I say, and I put Zeke’s vest on and take him with me to the bathroom just in case.

  I come back in, and he is sitting up on the bed waiting for me.

  “I’ve ordered us a pizza,” he says smiling.

  “I owe you money. Lots of it,” I say.

  “Nah, two-hundred-dollar watch,” he says, and I grimace.

  I sit back down, and he puts his arm back around me. I stiffen.

  “You’re uptight, you know that?” he says.

  “I’m sore, Dame,” I say.

  “Oh shit, sorry,” he says moving his arm and putting a hand on my leg, “But you are still uptight.” He is eyeing me like he wants answers.

  “I know you need more answers about epilepsy and all that jazz I just don’t have it in me right now,” I say as he looks me up and down. I thought I read his expression correctly—but he is still looking at me all weird.

  “What?”

  “Are you…” he starts, and I see where this is going.

  “Am I a what?” I say making him say it out of spite, mostly to enjoy him trying to ask this question.

  “Are you a virgin?” he asks uncomfortably.

  “You think because I am uncomfortable cuddling with you, that I am a virgin?” I say. I want to avoid this topic, he doesn’t need to know about my lack of experience.

  “Ummm…” he starts.

  “Are you so conceited as to think that it couldn’t just be the fact that I am not into you like that?” I lie, but mostly say just to make him more uncomfortable.

  “You think that I would just offer you my first time in casual conversation over dinner?” I quip and I smile to let him know I am not offended but enjoying this.

  “You knew I wouldn’t choose that,” he says and that does offend me.

  “Why, because it would be so horrible to sleep with me?” I say hurt, my tone changing. He notices and is quick to try to fix it.

  “No. No. No, don’t do the twisting words thing. No.”

  “That is what you just sounded like!”

  “Fee, you knew I wanted to get to know you that night.”

  “Did I know I was the only piece of ass you would turn down, no, I didn’t,” I say removing his hand from me.

  “Fee if you want to have sex. I will have sex with you. No hesitation,” he says seriously.

  “Pig,” I say rolling my eyes.

  “There is no winning this fight. I do not know why I am trying to win it. I have stepped into a hole here,” he says, and I glare at him.

  “I’m just saying you’re attractive to me, I didn’t choose to be zoned because I didn’t find you attractive, I did it because it was the only way you would let me in.”

  “So, you could convince me to have sex with you?” I say.

  “No, damnit, Fee. I want more than…” he starts.

  “No. You don’t. You like your blondes,” I say, and he just looks and me and then takes a deep breath.

  “I do like my blondes,” he finally says, but his eyes aren’t genuine. Good.

  “Obviously,” I say, and he eyes me suspiciously. He is about to say something and then his phone rings.

  “Pizza,” he says heading out to get it.

  I put a new sheet on the futon, grateful for its plastic covering, so that Damian and I can have a bigger surface to eat on. When he comes back we sit down together.

  “May I ask,” he says, “Why don’t you date, Felicity?”


  “You mean besides the fact that I could go all exorcist on them in the morning?” I say.

  “Not funny, Fee,” he says opening the box and handing me a slice. I get up and get us plates, because you know—I’m civilized.

  “I don’t date because I don’t feel like dating, Damian.”

  “Uh-huh,” he says not believing me.

  “People just don’t swear off men for no reason,” he says taking a bite.

  “I haven’t sworn off men. I just don’t want to date right now,” I say. More specifically I don’t want to date people that make me feel like you do. Or be a burden to anyone else.

  “You?” I ask. “Why don’t you date?”

  “High school girlfriend decided to sleep with someone who wasn’t me our junior year.”

  “Ouch.”

  “My father had died, I pulled away and she took it upon herself to find it elsewhere.”

  “Double ouch,” I say with a grimace.

  “Yea.” I see the concern and anxiety in his eyes. He is fidgeting, and I sit down my pizza.

  I pull his computer out of his bag and turn on Grey’s Anatomy. It. Is. So. Fast.

  “Hiding behind the Netflix screen?” he says, and I just smile.

  “Fine, watch McDreamy,” he says pointing at the screen.

  “Damian, you know very well that’s McSteamy. Don’t pretend.”

  “I can’t believe you have me watching this shit,” he remarks. But he gets into it.

  I start to fade again around ten and Damian just puts a blanket on me. I figured he would leave like he normally does, but he doesn’t.

  After Care

  In the morning, Damian is still here.

  I look over and he is on his laptop looking up epilepsy and all its glorious versions and scary depictions. I watch as he looks at forums and comments, slowly getting more and more scared, his eyes bugging out at the screen.

  It makes me smile, yet also makes me so uncomfortable. He wants to know more. He wants to be able to help. But do I really want his help? To be someone he thinks he needs to baby? Because that is what he is doing, Damian is babying me.

  He’s fairly deep in thought, because he doesn’t notice me walking over to him. I’m feeling a lot better than I was.

  “I probably have more answers than that does, you know,” I say from behind him. He jumps.

  “You’re awake,” He says holding his chest.

  “I am,” I say with a smile. “And you’re still here.”

  “I didn’t...I just...” he starts.

  “You didn’t want to leave me alone,” I say sighing. He’s going to be overbearing. But that’s partially on me, he was caught beyond off guard. But I don’t know how to feel—I don’t want to be a burden to Damian. He shouldn’t have to worry about me.

  “I could lie and say no, but we both know I would be lying,” he says closing his laptop and looking at me. I sit on the desk beside his laptop.

  “I’m a big girl, I can handle myself,” I say. He just rolls his eyes. I open the computer back up.

  “It’s called Juvenile Myoclonic Epilepsy,” I say getting up and going to brush my teeth. “It helps to have keywords.”

  When I look back he is already typing it into Google. I just laugh to myself and grab Zeke and his vest. We will take him out while we are at it.

  He is waiting for us when we get back.

  “You let me make fun of you,” he says.

  “What?” I say pulling off Zeke’s vest.

  “You dropping things. That’s not you being a klutz is it?” He asks and I shake my head.

  “You let me make fun of you,” he repeats.

  “You didn’t know,” I say in his own defense.

  “Still...” he adds.

  “Learn any other interesting things while I was gone?” I say sitting down.

  “No, just that,” he says shutting the screen.

  “Are you ready to actually ask me, now?” I say laughing.

  “Am I allowed to actually ask personal questions now? Because I want to know about you, Fee.”

  “JME related? Yes,” I say.

  “When were you diagnosed?”

  “Thirteen.”

  “When did your parents…?”

  “I was nine and ten. But none of that has to do with epilepsy, which is what I agreed to discuss about.”

  “And did you go to your sister at age nine?”

  “Epilepsy. We are talking epilepsy,” I say, and he sighs and starts in.

  “What should I do?” he asks.

  “My seizures normally last two minutes. I rarely have tonic clonics,” I start but he stops me.

  “Tonic whatics?”

  “It’s the new term for Grand Mal, it is what you witnessed.”

  “So that’s rare? You’re not in here doing that often?” he asks concerned.

  “That was my first one in a year,” I say, and he looks relieved. I can’t help but smile.

  “You’re laughing at me,” he says unamused.

  “I am not laughing at you. But you’re really curious. Normally people start heading for the hills by now. Particularly after they witnessed it alone.” He wants to know everything. I can see it.

  “It was scary. I don’t want to be that scared again. I didn’t realize until you fell asleep that it could happen again,” he says.

  “If it helps, that was one of the worst I’ve had.”

  “No, not really,” He says, and I see he hasn’t slept.

  “Were you up checking on me all night?” I ask.

  “That and having very unfortunate nightmares,” he says.

  “Okay,” I say calmly. “Why don’t I show you my care plan and explain it all to you?”

  “Please,” he says.

  I pull out my chart from Zeke’s vest.

  “I keep this here so that people will find it,” I say. He just nods.

  “Right here, is all the medicines I am currently taking,” I say, and he looks.

  “These are all the ones I have tried and the reactions I have had to them,” I say showing the next page.

  “That’s a lot,” he says.

  “It’s a process,” I say.

  “This is my emergency contact, Mel and Daniel, and all their information,” I say.

  “Okay,” he says. “But they don’t seem like much help.”

  “Daniel isn’t kind and Mel takes it. One of his peeves is me, so Mel hates helping me because it gets him mad,” I say honestly—not looking at him again.

  “Your brother-in-law, the man you lived with, is abusive?” he asks.

  “He doesn’t hit her,” I say.

  “That’s not what I asked,” he says.

  “Let’s focus on emergency procedures, Damian.”

  “Yea,” he says, but I can tell from the way he is acting that this conversation isn’t over.

  “Okay. So, here is what you’re supposed to do during a seizure, I say showing him the infographic on my chart and he sits and listens, taking it all in.

  “I am always confused after. I probably won’t know who you are,” I say. “Sometimes I am confused for minutes, sometimes hours.”

  “I figured that one out. After I yelled at you and made you cry. I feel great about that by the way,” he admits.

  “I don’t remember it,” I say.

  “I do.”

  “I don’t have any emergency meds. You just have to wait it out. If the seizure lasts more than five minutes or if I have a second one, you call 9-1-1.”

  “Why don’t you call 9-1-1 anyway?”

  “I have a seizure, then I am done. I don’t need the ER every time. I have epilepsy, we know what is causing it. It’s not an emergency.”

  “That felt like an emergency, Fee.”

  “But look at me now. I am fine, right?” I say and he nods.

  “Afterwards I am sore and irritable, sometimes a little sad. But that fades.”

  “Okay.”

  “I call my doct
or. I say it happens. He either just ups the meds or requests to see me. I go to his office.”

  “So, you’re calling him?”

  “I will,” I say. Since it has been a year since the last one, he will definitely want to see me.

  “How do you live by yourself, Fee?” he asks me seriously.

  “I don’t live by myself, Damian. I have Zeke.”

  “That is not what I meant, and you know it,” he says looking up at me.

  “Damian, I accept your lifestyle, accept mine and stop worrying about me. I am the same person I was Friday night,” I say.

  “Okay,” he says hesitantly.

  “Okay.”

  “But I would like to ask one more thing,” he says.

  “What?”

  “You gave me what I could learn on the internet, Fee. What do you need when it happens?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “How can I make you feel better, what can I do?”

  No one has asked me that before. No one has really cared to.

  “I just like knowing that I am safe. Sometimes I don’t know where I am, who I am with…” I say. And not having to defend myself, that would be wonderful.

  “Slut” Shaming

  Damian goes out and showers on my floor, and I try to study some more. He is not letting me out of his sight and being ultra-clingy. I’ll let it happen—to an extent.

  I prefer to be alone on the days following a seizure. I hate feeling like a burden, so I’ve learned to manage on my own.

  Damian comes back in. He walks over to my bed and starts reading for his econ class and we sit and just enjoy the quiet. I like that we can do that. I don’t feel the need to entertain him when he is in my room anymore—we are able to sit and do nothing, without making small talk or feeling weird. I haven’t had that before.

  Zeke is the one who disturbs us from our silence. He gets up and starts grumbling at the door and growling. Damian immediately looks at me with big eyes.

  “That’s not a warning,” I say, and he relaxes.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Damian gets up and walks over to my door.

  “It’s nothing. Someone is outside my door,” I say. The girls on my floor aren’t particularly nice when it comes to Damian. I’ve constantly been erasing some degrading messages on my whiteboard outside.

  “Who would be out there?” Damian says opening the door. I hear two girls run off and I walk over to Damian staring at this week’s message.