“What if you don’t want to what?” She looks at me confused.
“What if I don’t want to rise from this? What if I’m over trying to make the best of everything? Why can’t I just accept this is the way things go and that fucking sucks?” I don’t know where they come from, but the tears I’ve been holding back are pouring out of my eyes like waterfalls.
“C, this doesn’t sound like you. This sounds like something bigger than you. Will you please let us help you?” Aspen touches my hand, and I nod. “Go shower. River will make you some coffee, and we’ll call your therapist together, okay? We can take everything one by one.”
“Okay.” I slide my legs off the side of the bed. “I’m really sorry for what happened on Halloween.” Aspen nods, telling me it’s okay, at least for now.
I am wearing clothes that are so old I can smell them when I move. God, is that terrible smell coming from me? I guess I do need a shower.
Glancing in the mirror, I gasp in horror. My eyes are streaked with week-old makeup, my bangs are matted to my forehead, and pimples cover my usually clear face. There is blonde hair on the bathroom floor. I guess I never cleaned it up. I turn on the shower and look for a clean towel, only to find my usual one on the floor in a heap. The water is way too hot on my skin, but it somehow feels nice to feel something other than my heaviness.
My bedroom is empty when I get out of the shower with a set of clothes laid out for me on my desk. My bedsheet has been stripped from the bed, a bare mattress in its place, and all the windows in my room are open.
The laundry that was all over the floor is gone, as are the empty vodka bottles I had on my nightstand. I don’t remember drinking them, but I know they were there.
Aspen and River walk back in after I get dressed, and River doesn’t speak as she helps Aspen make my bed with fresh linen.
“Does your therapist do video calls? Or do we need to go down to her office?” Aspen asks.
“We usually meet on Zoom.” I sigh.
“Okay, I need you to schedule an emergency appointment right now,” Aspen says.
“It’s not an emergency.” I frown.
“I know you can’t see it, but the way we found you is most definitely a mental health emergency,” Aspen says, clutching my shoulders.
I nod, but I don’t have the energy to make the appointment. Let alone touch my phone right now. I’m not even sure if it’s charged. I didn’t want to scroll for the first time in my life, so I let it go dead. Afraid of what I will or won’t see by turning it on.
I don’t want to be reminded of everything I’ve lost. I glance around the room, hoping to see it in an obvious spot. Finding it on the floor next to my nightstand isn’t a surprise, so I just point. Aspen picks it up, tries to turn it on, and plugs the charger in.
“Here, I made you some coffee.” River returns from the kitchen with a steaming cup of coffee in my favorite pink mug. It’s smooth, the marbled outside never gets too hot despite how hot the inside is. I take a small sip, randomly remembering the reusable cup she’d lent me the day after her party.
“Your mug is in my cabinet. It’s clean, I just never returned it,” I tell her.
“Thanks,” River says curtly. I don’t blame her, we haven’t spoken in weeks and the first time we do it’s because I’m in a crisis.
“Okay, your therapist has time in the next ten minutes to hop on a call. Where’s your laptop?” Aspen asks.
“Uh…” My voice trails off. It’s like I’m in a brand new place, all my thoughts aren’t coming out as easily as normal, and I don’t know where anything is. “In my bag, but it’s probably dead too,” I admit.
Aspen gathers my things and sets up the computer at my desk. I sip the coffee, feeling a little more awake and a little more human since my shower. I feel a brush running through my hair and realize it’s River. She’s spraying conditioner on my mass of tangles trying to brush them out.
She’s not saying anything to me, but she’s being kind with each brush. It still hurts like a bitch because it’s all matted in some places and in others it’s full of knots. But she’s taking her time and using way more conditioner than I normally need.
“We’ll be outside if you need us,” Aspen says as she pulls up Zoom on my laptop. I shouldn’t be surprised she guessed my password, or maybe she remembered it from when we were roomies.
“C-can you stay? I-I don’t want to be alone,” I admit.
Aspen looks at River, who’s still brushing my hair. I can feel her nod, and Aspen smiles at me encouragingly. River keeps brushing as I take a seat at my desk, and Shirley, my therapist, pops on the screen. River sits on the bed next to Aspen.
“Hey, Cari, I’m hearing you’re not having such a good time? Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?” Shirley says, tucking her grey hair behind her ears.
I glance at River and Aspen, they’re holding hands, Aspen brushing her thumb over River’s.
“I had a bit of an issue with my social media and lost my account, on top of losing Max, and I guess I spent a week or two in bed not really doing much.” I sigh.
“Okay, tell me more about that. I know you and Max were having a rough time, but what happened with your social media? I thought your career relies heavily on posting and having a social presence.”
