I’mreallysick of thatdream.
The Xanax, however, will knock me out once I settle in one position long enough to let it kick in. In exchange, I will endure nauseating dreams that will swaddle me in quilted, sticky horror I’ll be unable to extricate myself from until the medicine decides it’s bored with me.
I’ll wake myself up screaming, eventually, and probably spend my first hour or so awake crying.
But I will probablymanage about six hours of sleep, if I’m lucky.
“We’re the last ones, except for EPU,” she tells me. “Dec just left.”
“Why do you put up with me?” I dare to meet her gaze.
She sadly smiles. “Because I love you, George. Even if I didn’t, I loved Ellen. If you want to get rid of me, you’re going to have to order me to leave. Otherwise, you’re stuck with me.”
“I love you, too, Case. I never wantto leave things unsaid.”
She picks up my glasses and hands them to me. “Let’s get you home, hon.”
Case has naturally dark blonde hair and light brown eyes that are practically hazel in color. She usually keeps her hair no longer than jaw length, and it’s always styled in a kind of wavy bob that never seems to go out of style. She’s timeless. I can still see Ellen’s overprotective bestie wholet me bribe her with law class notes, and whom I carried inside from the car more times than I can count when she was drunk after a party.
Lately, she’s been favoring this plummy sort of purple lipstick that’s absolutely perfect on her. She goes through phases—reds, burgundies, dark corals that are more red than orange. Never pinks, because those were Ellen’s favorites.
But this purply plum…fitsher. Suits her. Professional, and sexy, and dark, and daring, with just a hint of playful, all at the same time.
I love seeing her wear it.
It looks like she’s reapplied it since lunch. She always looks fresh, like she just stepped out of a dressing room. I don’t know how she does it, but she’s been like that ever since I’ve known her. Even if she’s coming out of the gym, she looks picture-perfect.
She’s amazing.
Ellen was in awe of her ability to always look perfect.
So am I.
We set the alarm. I hold the door for her as we exit, and she locks it behind us. The officers escort us out to the car, where Casey waits until they’re in their car before she pulls out of the parking space. We’re already a couple of miles from the office when I feel the first hints of the pill start to kick in.I tip my head back against the seat but don’t close my eyes.
She notices. “You feeling it?”
“Yeah.”
She reaches over and pats me on the thigh, her hand not lingering long enough for me to lay mine on top of it.
I drift a little, but not enough for my mind to completely sink into that sickly-sweet morass I loathingly love, once Case orders me into it. I drift enough that the ride home onlyseems to take a fraction of the time it usually would.
The EPU officers don’t follow us inside the development. Case has a clicker for my gate. She has the timing down perfectly and doesn’t even have to pause to drive through. It’s already open by the time we reach it.
At the house, she disarms the alarm with her phone app and already has her housekeys out before she even opens her car door.
She easily beats me to the front door. I’m already halfway up the front steps before I realize she’s carrying my laptop case.
“Oh, it’s hitting you hard and fast today, isn’t it, sweetie,” she says matter-of-factly. I nod as she unlocks my front door and holds it open for me.
I don’t even attempt the stairs. I know I don’t have the muscle coordination for it now. She locks the door behind usand catches my arm with hers to guide me into the living room. I stand there by the couch as she helps me remove my overcoat and blazer, then my tie, and unbuttons the top two buttons of my shirt.
“Sit, sweetie.”
I do. We have a large sectional sofa, like a big bed, almost. She props my feet up on it and takes my shoes off for me.
“Do you want water or anything, hon?” she asks.
I think I shakemy head.
Suddenly, the TV’s on and my head is in Case’s lap. I’m curled in a fetal position on my side, a light throw over me, and her hand rests on my shoulder. I remember none of this, of getting into position like that.
“How long’s it been?” I ask. “When do you need to leave?”
With her other hand she plays with my hair. “Honey, this is the check-in. It’s after midnight. I’ve already goneand come back.” I now realize she’s wearing PJ pants, not the pantsuit she was wearing earlier. The fabric feels soft and warm under my cheek.
“Oh. Okay.”
I close my eyes again and pray I manage a few more hours of sleep, even if it means dealing with nightmares on the other side of it.
