I ignore her, training my gaze on the tarnished spot of skin.
“Dani.” She stops me once again. “Who touched you?”
I shake my head vehemently. I can’t. I can’t.
She takes my hands in hers, forcing me to meet her eyes as she initiates a deep breath, encouraging me to follow her. “You’re okay,” she coos. “You’re okay.” She shushes me like a baby on her shoulder when a sob breaks free. “You’re okay, I’m here. You’re fine. Everything’s fine. Say it with me, Dani. Okay? Say you’re okay.”
“I’m okay,” I say shakily.
“You’re fine,” she says.
“I’m fine,” I spit out.
“Everything’s fine,” she says, rubbing circles on the inside of my palms.
“Everything’s fine,” I say, taking a steady breath.
She makes me stand in that stall repeating those words and deepening my breaths until it feels less like labor.
“I’m sorry,” I croak.
She shakes her head. “No need to be sorry. Let’s get you out of here, okay?”
“I can’t go back out there.”
“Well, if you don’t, you’ll have to move in here, and that’s no good. I’ll go out first. You take a minute and then follow me. Okay?”
When I zone out on the bathroom floor again, she grabs my chin and turns my face to hers. “Okay?”
“Okay.”
She nods her approval. “One minute, Dani. Don’t make me come back to get you.”
I say okay again and count down to myself.
Ri leads me out of the party, and I abandon my coat in favor of a quick exit. She gets me home and tucked into my bed before joining me.
“How are you feeling?” she asks.
“Better. But my head is killing me,” I say, rubbing my temples.
She goes to my bathroom and comes back with two pills and a glass of water, which I down without question.
“Thank you, Ri. For everything.”
She waves me off. “You’d do it for me. What should we do now? Watch some reality TV?”
The wordsyou’re okay, you’re fine, everything’s finebecame my haven. They saved me more times than I can count.
Micah and Bailey’s voices drift upstairs, reminding me that I can’t hide out here forever.
I hate being reintroduced to the woman staring back at me in the mirror. The sweat droplets lining my edges, the hard-set line of my mouth that refuses to tip in either direction, the glassy eyes. My least favorite version of myself. I had hoped to never see her again, but here she is reminding me that she’s always there no matter who I mold myself into.
Looking around the bathroom, I spot my purse hanging on the doorknob. I must’ve grabbed it on autopilot when I ran out of the bedroom. I sift through its contents until I find my blotting papers, eye drops, and concealer. Never leave home without them.
Walking down the steps, Micah and Bailey’s voices drift from the den. When I reach them, Micah is carefully taking Tanya’s paintings off the wall while Bailey is wrapping them in bubble wrap.
She spots me first, throwing her hand up in a wave. “Hi, I’m Bailey.”
