Read Online Arms Wide Open: a Novella by Juli Caldwell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Juli Caldwell
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head, man. Blink, will you?”
“I can’t believe none of us ever saw any
signs that something was wrong. I mean, we all thought you were crazy, but it
was good, fun crazy, like you were a party of one that never stopped.”
I raise my eyebrows. “One of the
hallmark signs of bipolar two.”
“I had no idea. None of us did.”
“I tried to hide it from Grant. I made
sure to hide all the crazy, even from him, and we’d been together for years. I
don’t blame him at all for walking away and not looking back.”
“You’re wrong,” Oliver says. He shakes
his head at me, blond locks tossed back as he does. “He didn’t just walk away.
Grant never would have walked away from you.”
Unhidden Truth
I tip my head to the side and look at him,
confused. “What do you mean?”
Oliver leans forward again and looks at
me thoughtfully. “How much do you remember about those first few days at the
hospital?”
“Not much,” I admit with a shake of the
head. “I was really out of it because of the OD and all the drugs they put me
on. I remember more once I got on the psych floor.”
“Grant was there for the first few
days,” Oliver tells me. “He called and texted me updates all the time. When you
were starting to come out of it, he said your parents pulled him aside and
asked that he step out of the picture for awhile so you could focus on getting
well. He said things had been rough between you two for awhile and he agreed it
would be best if he didn’t see you. It wrecked him, Laur. He wanted to be there
with you every day, but he figured you’d look for him when you got out of
residential rehab.”
I never did.
I was so angry and hurt that I never
heard a single word from him that I didn’t even bother. Pride is kind of a
vicious creature, and it’s what kept me from looking. I never bothered to ask
where he was or why he never came, maybe because I thought if I meant something
to him, he would put the effort into seeing me. When he didn’t, I adopted a
good riddance attitude even though my heart ached to see him, to find out why,
even though I figured I already knew.
I was horrible to him the last few
months we were together. I know now it’s because I was sick and not thinking
clearly, but how could he know that? I’d gone from best friend and girlfriend
to psycho beast in a short amount of time, and I didn’t think I deserved
another chance. I could think of twenty reasons for him not to want me anymore
but not a single reason why he might.
My brow knots in concentration as I
think back to the vague memories I have of the first few days of my recovery. I
don’t recall much from my drug-induced haze, but I dreamed of him every day. I
dreamed he was holding my hand, stroking my fingers gently while he whispered
that I would get through this and everything would be okay. He whispered plans
of a future, one with both of us. Those hushed promises filled my heart with
hope, and then shattered it when they never happened.
“I dreamed of him...or maybe what I
thought were dreams actually happened. I don’t know.” I look Oliver square in
the eyes and my head starts to throb from the effort of holding in the tears.
“The last thing I dreamed before I went to the psych ward is...him. Us.”
I’m laying in my bed, hospital gown
haphazardly snapped up and the ties loose around my neck. IV tubes shoot from
my arm, snake around the bed, and spill off the edge before arching back up to
connect with the bag of whatever pharmaceutical cocktail they’re pumping into
me. Everything around me is misty and dark, but I can feel someone’s presence.
I sense Axe body wash and coordinating cologne. If I could smile, I would, if
only to let Grant know he’s the world’s least secret agent and I can tell he’s
there. I smell his trademark man-scent from a mile off.
The chair legs scrape against the
linoleum floor with the creak of old wood as the aroma comes closer. Someone
sits down beside me. Suddenly
“I can’t believe none of us ever saw any
signs that something was wrong. I mean, we all thought you were crazy, but it
was good, fun crazy, like you were a party of one that never stopped.”
I raise my eyebrows. “One of the
hallmark signs of bipolar two.”
“I had no idea. None of us did.”
“I tried to hide it from Grant. I made
sure to hide all the crazy, even from him, and we’d been together for years. I
don’t blame him at all for walking away and not looking back.”
“You’re wrong,” Oliver says. He shakes
his head at me, blond locks tossed back as he does. “He didn’t just walk away.
Grant never would have walked away from you.”
Unhidden Truth
I tip my head to the side and look at him,
confused. “What do you mean?”
Oliver leans forward again and looks at
me thoughtfully. “How much do you remember about those first few days at the
hospital?”
“Not much,” I admit with a shake of the
head. “I was really out of it because of the OD and all the drugs they put me
on. I remember more once I got on the psych floor.”
“Grant was there for the first few
days,” Oliver tells me. “He called and texted me updates all the time. When you
were starting to come out of it, he said your parents pulled him aside and
asked that he step out of the picture for awhile so you could focus on getting
well. He said things had been rough between you two for awhile and he agreed it
would be best if he didn’t see you. It wrecked him, Laur. He wanted to be there
with you every day, but he figured you’d look for him when you got out of
residential rehab.”
I never did.
I was so angry and hurt that I never
heard a single word from him that I didn’t even bother. Pride is kind of a
vicious creature, and it’s what kept me from looking. I never bothered to ask
where he was or why he never came, maybe because I thought if I meant something
to him, he would put the effort into seeing me. When he didn’t, I adopted a
good riddance attitude even though my heart ached to see him, to find out why,
even though I figured I already knew.
I was horrible to him the last few
months we were together. I know now it’s because I was sick and not thinking
clearly, but how could he know that? I’d gone from best friend and girlfriend
to psycho beast in a short amount of time, and I didn’t think I deserved
another chance. I could think of twenty reasons for him not to want me anymore
but not a single reason why he might.
My brow knots in concentration as I
think back to the vague memories I have of the first few days of my recovery. I
don’t recall much from my drug-induced haze, but I dreamed of him every day. I
dreamed he was holding my hand, stroking my fingers gently while he whispered
that I would get through this and everything would be okay. He whispered plans
of a future, one with both of us. Those hushed promises filled my heart with
hope, and then shattered it when they never happened.
“I dreamed of him...or maybe what I
thought were dreams actually happened. I don’t know.” I look Oliver square in
the eyes and my head starts to throb from the effort of holding in the tears.
“The last thing I dreamed before I went to the psych ward is...him. Us.”
I’m laying in my bed, hospital gown
haphazardly snapped up and the ties loose around my neck. IV tubes shoot from
my arm, snake around the bed, and spill off the edge before arching back up to
connect with the bag of whatever pharmaceutical cocktail they’re pumping into
me. Everything around me is misty and dark, but I can feel someone’s presence.
I sense Axe body wash and coordinating cologne. If I could smile, I would, if
only to let Grant know he’s the world’s least secret agent and I can tell he’s
there. I smell his trademark man-scent from a mile off.
The chair legs scrape against the
linoleum floor with the creak of old wood as the aroma comes closer. Someone
sits down beside me. Suddenly
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