I blink the screen into focus.
Miguel
Hey, when you wake up tomorrow, I wanna talk to you about something.
Nothing bad. Just… me looking into getting a little extra help so I can be better for you.
Okay?
“Little extra help” is a loaded phrase when you have a brain like mine. My first thought is, he’s done and calling it quits. My second is, of course, he’s looking into help. You’re exhausting.
I stare at the messages until the words blur.
Too much.
Too needy.
Too broken.
He’s realizing it. Finally realizing what you keep saying is true—that you’re a project, not a person.I squeeze my eyes shut and inhale.
One, two, three, four.
Exhale.
Five, six, seven, eight.
What the fuck do I do with nine and ten?
The safety plan Dr. Kaur made me write sits folded in my wallet. I don’t need to pull it out to hear her voice.
“Thoughts are thoughts, Caleb. Not facts. Not orders.”
I text back before I can overthink it anymore.
Caleb
Morning. Sorry I crashed so hard last night.
You’re allowed to get help, you know. I won’t be mad.
The three dots pop up pretty fast.
Miguel
I know I’m allowed, pretty boy. I just don’t want you waking up and thinking I’m… tapping out or some stupid shit.
I’m not going anywhere. I’ve just realized I can’t keep trying to white-knuckle this alone.
Can we talk after your practice? I’ll pick you up.
Something in my chest loosens.
He’s not saying that I’m too much.
He’s saying that he wants help so he can stay.
I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling. My heart’s still doing that jittery thing, but there’s a little heat now that wasn’t there a minute ago.
