Which I won’t be doing. Even with the new pericarditis development, I’ve been going forward with my life as usual. Sure, the steroids are inflicting their usual destruction on my mind—hello, anxiety and brain fog—but those symptoms are mitigated by all the good stuff in my life. My followers online are growing, I’ve already done an extra dye order this week, and I have Sebastian.
Things are good, and not even an occasional panic attack over fear that I’ve left home with the stove on can ruin that.
If Hannah knew about the pericarditis, she’d ride my ass about cutting back on responsibilities, because she’s a good friend. Right now, though, I don’t need to be told what to do. I get enough of that from my doctor.
I just need to be left to live my life. On my terms.
Taking a deep breath, I open the door to the shop and the bell above the door chimes as I push inside. trying to ignore theway my hands shake slightly. The steroids are making me jittery today. I’m still not entirely sure what I’ll say to Hannah but I know I need to say something to help patch up the strangeness between us.
Glancing around as I enter, I see she’s standing in the corner by the shelves containing our new arrivals, deep in conversation with a customer comparing wool versus acrylic blends. Since she’s busy, I walk to the back room to clock in and stow my stuff, then decide to do a little tidying up while I’m there. There’s a small box of unlabeled skeins of yarn sitting next to the door, so I pick it up and get to work sorting it.
Just as I’m finishing, I hear the bell jingle over the door, so I walk back out front to the counter and notice the customer Hannah was talking to leaving with a bag packed with different colorful wool blends. A sudden awkwardness encompasses the shop as Hannah and I look at each other for a long moment. I can tell she doesn’t know what to say any more than I do.
“Hey.” She shoves her hands into her jeans pockets.
“Hi.” I fiddle with a pen that I’ve grabbed from the counter, noting how the light catches the metallic sheen. Everything seems shinier on steroids—colors more vivid, sounds sharper. “Busy morning?”
“Yeah. A lot of people were in town for some corporate retreat.” She’s not quite meeting my eyes.
“Ah. Cool.” I clear my throat. “Hey, I’m sorry I’ve been kind of MIA.”
“What? No, it’s okay.” She advances on where I’m standing at the counter, but her body language contradicts her words—arms folded, shoulders drawn up like armor. “You’re busy. We all are.”
“Actually, it’s not just work. I’ve been spending a lot of time with Sebastian.”
Her eyebrows rise. “You have?”
“Yeah, I know.” I chuckle and look down. “Weird, right?”
“You really like him, don’t you?” There’s something knowing in her voice, like she can see through all my deflections.
I draw a deep breath, feeling the slight catch in my chest that’s become my new normal. “Yeah, I do.”
As wild as that is.
“That’s good. I’m happy for you.” She messes with a display shelf of hand-dyed skeins, straightening what’s already straight. “Just... be careful, okay?”
“Careful?”
“You know what I mean. You have a tendency to...” She trails off, but I know what she’s not saying. I have a tendency to give everything until there’s nothing left, then wonder why I’m empty.
“Yeah.” Realizing I’m biting the end of the pen, I put it down. “Thank you for that—the stuff.”
She looks up at me, her eyes flashing with unmistakable hurt.
The moment Sebastian gave me the box from Hannah the other night at dinner, I knew what was in it. A half bag of gummy worms and a half-filled-out Mad Lib. It’s our thing that we do before doctor’s appointments to help with the nerves—split a bag of gummy worms and complete a Mad Lib together. This one had all the medical words filled in with ridiculous substitutes. “The doctor will check your SPARKLY UNICORN with a BEDAZZLED HAMSTER.”
I know her giving those to me wasn’t an attack; it was merely her show of support for an appointment of mine that she missed. Still, the guilt that all of this is wrapped up in weighs me down. Hannah’s support makes me feel even worse.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about that appointment,” I say. “I was nervous, and I thought that…that if I didn’t mention it, it would be less of a big deal. If that makes sense.”
It’s true. That’s exactly how I felt. I’m just choosing to leave out the detail about the appointment being about my heart health.
“It makes sense.” She hesitates, waiting for me to go on. “But Flick, you’re my closest friend. My best friend. We’ve helped each other through pain, anxiety, medication side effects, heartache. We don’t hide the hard stuff from each other.”
“I know.” The words come out smaller than intended.
“Do you?” Her voice gentles. “Because lately it feels like you’re building walls instead of just boundaries.”
