I weighed her suggestion and I understood why she thought it might help, but I didn’t want to go through that again. It got me nowhere last time and I was so fucking sick of taking medsjust to fucking get by. This was why I felt so goddamn hopeless. I would never be able to have a normal life. I’d be constantly on guard, constantly medicated, constantly worrying that I’d finally be pulled so far down into that abyss that there would be no saving me.
I didn’t want to fucking be like this anymore.
“I’ll think about it,” I told her.Another lie.
She didn’t seem to believe me, but thankfully she moved onto other topics and we wrapped up the session forty minutes later. I got in my car to head back to my apartment and saw a text from Dawson waiting for me. I was relieved when my heart gave a little flutter at seeing his name.
At least I haven’t gone completely numb yet…
MERCURY
Hey baby, are you out of therapy yet?
ME
Just got out. You coming over?
MERCURY
Yeah, I’ve got a couple hours before practice. Want me to bring tacos?
ME
I drove home with a million razor-edged thoughts flying through my brain, each one more cutting than the last. I’d been honest with Dawson about feeling more down lately, and even though I knew he was trying not to, he worried more each time we saw each other. I fucking despised myself for feeling irritated with him when he asked questions or tried to cheer me up, mostly because I knew it wouldn’t work.
It was like the last bits of happiness I had in my soul were wrung out on that beach and all that was left were the dregs of my own humanity. I didn’t feel like myself anymore. I felt angry and hopeless, if I even felt anything at all. And that was the real truth I couldn’t share with Maggie. It was harder to be without Dawson now because I was so fucking scared that not even he had the power to pull me out of this, that there was no way for him to help me keep my head above the water this time.
I walked in my door and threw my keys on the coffee table. I barely had time to change into comfy clothes before I heard the front lock disengage and came out of my room to see Dawson waltz in, a brown paper bag tucked in the crook of his arm. He gave me that dazzling smile of his and I wanted to cry at the lack of reaction my body had. His smile had never failed to unleash butterflies in my stomach, but it was yet another thing this goddamn disease had stolen from me.
His face fell when I could barely muster a smile in return and fuck, I hated myself so damn much in that moment. I hated disappointing him, but that’s all I was good for. All I’d ever be.
“Hey baby, how did it go with Maggie?” he asked cheerily, attempting to brush off the hurt that I saw in his eyes.
“It was good. Same old, same old.”
“Oh. Good then,” he replied, avoiding my gaze while he laid out the food for us. We started to dig in, but the food was bland and went down like mush. Considering it was one of our favorite places for Tex-Mex, it meant thatIwas the problem. Yet another source of pleasure robbed by this fucking disease.
“How have your classes been lately?” Dawson asked between bites.
“They’re alright.”
“I mean, are you able to keep up with the coursework? Are your grades still okay? You know if you need any help, I can tutoryou or see if any of our friends have old class notes they could share.”
I understood logically that he was trying to help during an obvious rough patch. Unfortunately, my irritation still simmered and I barely bit back my retort. I sucked in a calming breath and reminded myself that he loved me and didn’t deserve my shit.
“I appreciate it, babe, but I’ve got it. All under control. Promise.”
Eh, mostly…mostly still counts.
In truth, I was struggling to maintain focus in my classes and my grades weregradually slipping. I was lucky that academics had never been overly difficult for me, so I was faring better than I likely had a right to, but it only made the slow decline that much harder to stomach.
Dawson seemed mollified by my answer and moved onto other mind-numbing topics until he came back full circle.
“By the way, did you ask Maggie about doing a virtual session the week of Thanksgiving? I don’t want you to have to miss another one while we’re back home.”
“Uh, no. I forgot,” I muttered. I could sense his frustration rising with mine, but I had just gotten out of therapy. I didn’t want to keep talking about it.
“Just…try to remember to ask her next week, okay? It’s coming up fast,” he sighed.
