“What is going on, Maggie?!”she shrieked into the phone. I pulled the receiver away from my ear.
“Chill out, Rache. You’re going to bust my eardrum,” I said lightly.
“Don’t give me your blasé crap. Why did you and Clay take off? Your parents called me at five o’clock this morning and they are absolutely a-hundred-percent flipping out! You had better have a good reason for all of this.” I could tell she was angry. I would have felt the same way had our roles been reversed. I knew I owed her an explanation.
I sat down on the curb outside our room. “Clay is going through some major stuff right now and my parents were being unreasonable. He needed me.”
She huffed on the other end. “Not good enough, Mags. Now, cut with the bullshit and ’fess up. Because I swear if you feed me some stupid song and dance about young love I’ll bash your head in the next time I see you!” Rachel seethed.
“Fine, you want to know the truth? Clay has bipolar disorder as well as something called borderline personality disorder. Don’t ask me what it all means, because I really don’t know. Anyway, he had just gotten out of the hospital before he moved up here and now his parents are in town and threatening to lock him back up. And his crazy moods and temper are all because he’s been on and off his meds. Plus, he really needs therapy, but so far has refused it. We’re just trying to figure everything out, okay? He needs me! And I need him to be healthy.” I finished my rambling explanation and waited for my friend’s response.
“Rachel?” I said into the void.
“I’m here,” she said quietly. I didn’t like the tone of her voice. “I had no idea all this was going on. Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
“It wasn’t really my story to tell,” I said simply. I heard Rachel cluck her tongue.
“But you know you can’t save him. He needs serious help. Help from people who know what they’re doing when it comes to that kind of stuff. If he’s not taking his meds, like you said, then there’s nothing you can do.” She paused. “Maybe his parents are right. Maybe he needs to go somewhere where he can get some major treatment.”
I was shocked and deeply hurt by her reaction. How could she side with those horrible people? She was supposed to be my best friend. “No. I can’t let them do that to him,” I bit out coldly.
Rachel sighed. I could almost see the exasperated expression on her face. “How could you do this to your parents? Don’t you think they would have understood if you just told them? They love you and they’re worried sick.”
I felt the guilt flip in my gut. I hated that she reminded me of what I was doing to the other people I loved. “You just don’t get it,” I sulked.
“Oh, I get it, all right. You’re on a one-woman mission to save Clay Reed from himself. I get that you love him. But there are times when love ain’t enough, sweetheart, and I have a very bad feeling he’s just going to take you down with him. Not that he means to. But that’s just what happens.” She seemed to be speaking from experience.
“What do you know about any of this? What do you know about Clay and what he’s going through?” I asked hatefully.
“Listen. My grandmother suffered from bipolar disorder as well as a slough of other mental illnesses, if you must know. I saw firsthand the nightmare she put my grandfather and my mother through. It wasn’t pretty. She refused to get help, too. And you know what happened?” she barked at me. I was shocked to hear this. I had no idea that her grandmother had suffered from any kind of mental illness. Rachel had never mentioned it.
“What?” I asked quietly.
“She killed herself when I was ten years old. That’s what happened. And all because she swore she was fine and my grandfather believed her.” Rachel’s voice broke. I felt cold at her words.
“So, don’t you see? You aren’t helping Clay by enabling him! You need to get your ass back here, and let the people whose job it is to help him do it. Yeah, his parents sound shitty, but they just may ultimately know what’s best for him—not you.” She was being harsh and I wanted to ignore what she was telling me. But there was a small part of me that heard her and knew the advice she was giving me was good.
“And you should call your parents. Hearing from me that you’re all right isn’t the same as hearing it from you. You have great parents. Don’t ruin your relationship with them for some ill-conceived Florence Nightingale complex.”
I heard the motel door behind me open. “Maggie? Why are you out here?” Clay asked from the doorway. I looked over my shoulder at him. He had put on his pants but hadn’t bothered with a shirt. His hair was rumpled as he squinted in the morning light.
“I’ve gotta go, Rache. I’ll call you when I know where we’re going,” I assured her.
“Maggie. Seriously. Come home. This is nuts!” she pleaded. I didn’t answer her; instead I disconnected the call.
Standing up, I shoved my phone in my pocket. “Rachel?” he asked.
I nodded, following him into the room and shutting the door behind us.
“What did you tell her?” He eyed me warily.
“I told her you had some stuff going on and we needed to get away for a while,” I lied. No way could I tell him that I had spilled his entire mental history to her. I seriously doubted he’d want her to know about all of that ugliness.
Clay pulled me closer and kissed me. “I was scared when I woke up and you weren’t here. I thought... that maybe you had left.” He looked at me with a vulnerability that frightenedme.
I hugged him tightly. “Never, Clay. I’m not going anywhere without you,” I told him, and he relaxed in my arms.
Clay got in the shower and I looked on my phone for a place to get some provisions. There was a Target two towns over. So we got in Clay’s car and went to Brookerton. We loaded up on shampoo, soap, toothbrushes, and toothpaste. I splurged a bit and got myself a curling iron and hair dryer. I was glad that I had thought to grab my cash card before leaving Davidson.
