Clearly alarmed, Aidan reaches for me, but I evade him. “I’m fine. Just wobbly. I’m going to make breakfast.”
“Ludo—”
“Please. Let me, okay? I need to do something normal.”
Aidan clamps his mouth shut. I take my chance and flee the room, and downstairs I find my house neatly rearranged to the point where if I hadn’t already lost my mind, I’d be flinging it out of the window.
I open three kitchen cupboards until I find a pan to cook the bacon I’ve chucked in the microwave to defrost. Two cupboards in search of the plates. The only thing I find on the first try is the olive oil, and that’s only because it’s still in its spot by the stove.
My thoughts are scattered. It takes me a while to recall that Aidan mentioned a bacon sandwich.Do I even have bread?
Apparently I do. I butter six slices and dig out the ketchup. Then, remembering that Aidan’s northern, go back for the HP sauce. There’s mushrooms in the fridge—why?—tomatoes, and eggs. The temptation to cook enough for twenty is strong, but I push it down and make two triple-decker sandwiches, cramming extra bacon into Aidan’s as a compromise.
Turn the gas off.
I turn the gas off. Double check it, then unplug the microwave for good measure.It’s safe. Everything’s safe.
Plates balanced in one hand, I leave the kitchen, checking Bella’s food and water bowls on my way to the stairs. She’s on her back in her basket, tongue out, eyes open just enough to let me know she’ll be in the kitchen sharking for scraps the moment my back is turned.
I’ve left her a rasher on the kitchen table.
Aidan laughs when I tell him so, though he sounds more relieved than amused, as if he’s been holding his breath the entire time I’ve been downstairs. He takes the sandwich with the brown sauce. “Did you turn the gas off?”
“I did. And I checked. Do you think I should check again?”
“Nah. Trust yourself. Never left it on before, have you?”
He’s so sweet. And stoic. He eats the sandwich like it’s the best meal he’s ever had, then gives me a hug, focussed entirely on me and not the throbbing pain I can almostseein his knee.
I take the plates downstairs and retrieve a bag of frozen peas from the freezer and a tea towel to wrap them in.
When I get back to the bedroom, Aidan is lying on his back, grimacing, face grey. I drape the makeshift ice pack over his knee and lie down beside him. “Is it really bad? I don’t keep painkillers in the house, but I can go out and get you some?”
“It’s fine.”
“You’re a crap liar.”
“That ain’t a bad thing, mate.”
He’s right. But his obvious discomfort is getting under my skin. I need to crawl inside his bones and heal the cracks and fissures, but I settle for combing my fingers through his hair while he closes his eyes to the pain racking his leg.
I’ve had enough broken bones of my own to know how much they can hurt long after the doctors have lost interest. My wrists, my ankles, my pelvis, they all throb in time with Aidan’s heartbeat against my palm, and my teeth start to itch. There’s nothing I want more than to be the rock for him that he’s been for me, but I’m not as strong as him. I’m weak. I watch over Aidan for as long as I can, but by lunchtime the unnatural energy rising in me is irresistible. My mind jumps so fast I can’t catch one thought before it snowballs into another, and I need tomove, damn it.
“You’re vibrating.”
I glance down at Aidan. His eyes are closed, but I feel his gaze all over me. “How can you tell?”
“I can feel it. Has the injection they gave you worn off?”
“Yeah, but the mania is wearing off too. I’ll be normal soon, I promise.”
Aidan’s eyes fly open. “Don’t say shit like that. As if I’d ever want you to be anything different. And there’s nothing abnormal about being ill.”
I know that. Of course I do. When I’m well I’d never dream of using such hurtful words about myself or anyone else who has bipolar, but the frustration building in me has spikes, and it makes me say stupid, unfair things I can’t take back. “I’m sorry.”
Aidan makes one of those low sounds in his throat—the ones that tell me he’s either annoyed or horny. Given the context, I’d imagine he’s annoyed.
He sits up and pulls the soggy bag of defrosted peas from his knee. “Don’t be sorry. You’ve been looking after me all morning... don’t you think I want to benormaltoo?”
