why it bothers me that she doesn’t.
“I am.” Her voice is a whisper as if it’s physically difficult for her to tell me these things.
“Why?”
Her gaze comes up to meet mine, and the previous sadness in her eyes is nothing compared to what’s swimming in there now. Torture. Dark swirling clouds of a pain that are far beyond what I’d ever understand. It scares the shit out of me, and I don’t know whether to scoop her up into a hug or run like hell.
“I can’t–” Her voice hiccups and she pulls her hand back to shove it in her purse. She pulls out a bottle and expertly pops the top, shakes out a pill, and shoves it in her mouth. Her head falls back, her eyes close, and I just watch her chest. Up and down. In and out. She breathes fast at first, but the short pumps slow and smooth until she’s back to normal.
After what seems like forever, her head lolls to the side and she looks at me. Her eyes have changed again. No pain, no sadness, no fear. Nothing. They’re blank and grey.
Who is this girl?
“It’s okay. You don’t have to talk about it.” I hope she doesn’t want to talk about it. Whatever happened to her to cause her to panic and pop pills at the sight of a lake seems far beyond my help.
“I almost drowned.” Her grip on my hand loosens as the drugs relax her, and I let her fingers slide from mine. She says it the same way she'd say she slipped or something.
“You what?” I ask, unable to keep the shock from my voice, and she nods.
“Drowned. But they saved me. It was my fault, but they saved me.” Tears fill her eyes, and her head rolls to look away from me.
I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say anything. My brain swirls with thoughts and questions about her vagueness, but I can’t ask her anything. I wouldn’t even know where to start.
Suddenly, she throws open the door to my truck and jumps out. I watch her tiny frame as she makes her way to the water. She stops at the edge and looks into the lake as if she were peering over the edge of the world. I slowly get out of the truck and follow her footsteps in the sand to the shore. I stand beside her with my hands in my pockets, wondering how this day started so light, and then sunk into a pit of thick, sticky depression.
“Do you ever feel like life has already passed you by? Like you’re dead in a sea of lies with nothing or no one around to talk to. No one who understands what it feels like to not be in control of a single facet of your life? Even your death.” Her voice shakes as she whispers. The breeze off the lake is cool, even on this hot day and she steps back as a tiny wave laps up against the sand. I let the cold water wash up over my feet, and I feel clear again. Like I always do in the water.
“Yes,” I say honestly. “I do.”
Her head lifts this time and her eyes are still distant from whatever drug she took, but she presses a small smile and laughs awkwardly, like she did when she hit me with the door.
“I had a feeling you might,” she says and sits down on the beach. “I’m running away, Corbin. But I’m guessing you know that already. I’m running away from me.”
I sit next to her, making sure my shoulder touches hers even though we have all the space in the world out here.
“I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” she continues. “I’ve never told anyone who didn’t have a Ph.D to treat crazy any of this. I’m sorry. I warned you I was fucked up.” She nudges my shoulder with hers, and I smile out to the lake. I could really use a swim right now. For a lot of reasons.
“That you did.” I nudge her back. “Good thing I find fucked up to be an endearing character trait. Keeps things interesting.”
I stand and hold out a hand. She looks at it, then at me.
“Where are we going now?” She sounds skeptical.
“I'm taking you home. You just ruined truth or dare for me.”
She smiles as I pull her up so close to me I feel her heat, and I allow myself to soak it up.
“I am.” Her voice is a whisper as if it’s physically difficult for her to tell me these things.
“Why?”
Her gaze comes up to meet mine, and the previous sadness in her eyes is nothing compared to what’s swimming in there now. Torture. Dark swirling clouds of a pain that are far beyond what I’d ever understand. It scares the shit out of me, and I don’t know whether to scoop her up into a hug or run like hell.
“I can’t–” Her voice hiccups and she pulls her hand back to shove it in her purse. She pulls out a bottle and expertly pops the top, shakes out a pill, and shoves it in her mouth. Her head falls back, her eyes close, and I just watch her chest. Up and down. In and out. She breathes fast at first, but the short pumps slow and smooth until she’s back to normal.
After what seems like forever, her head lolls to the side and she looks at me. Her eyes have changed again. No pain, no sadness, no fear. Nothing. They’re blank and grey.
Who is this girl?
“It’s okay. You don’t have to talk about it.” I hope she doesn’t want to talk about it. Whatever happened to her to cause her to panic and pop pills at the sight of a lake seems far beyond my help.
“I almost drowned.” Her grip on my hand loosens as the drugs relax her, and I let her fingers slide from mine. She says it the same way she'd say she slipped or something.
“You what?” I ask, unable to keep the shock from my voice, and she nods.
“Drowned. But they saved me. It was my fault, but they saved me.” Tears fill her eyes, and her head rolls to look away from me.
I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say anything. My brain swirls with thoughts and questions about her vagueness, but I can’t ask her anything. I wouldn’t even know where to start.
Suddenly, she throws open the door to my truck and jumps out. I watch her tiny frame as she makes her way to the water. She stops at the edge and looks into the lake as if she were peering over the edge of the world. I slowly get out of the truck and follow her footsteps in the sand to the shore. I stand beside her with my hands in my pockets, wondering how this day started so light, and then sunk into a pit of thick, sticky depression.
“Do you ever feel like life has already passed you by? Like you’re dead in a sea of lies with nothing or no one around to talk to. No one who understands what it feels like to not be in control of a single facet of your life? Even your death.” Her voice shakes as she whispers. The breeze off the lake is cool, even on this hot day and she steps back as a tiny wave laps up against the sand. I let the cold water wash up over my feet, and I feel clear again. Like I always do in the water.
“Yes,” I say honestly. “I do.”
Her head lifts this time and her eyes are still distant from whatever drug she took, but she presses a small smile and laughs awkwardly, like she did when she hit me with the door.
“I had a feeling you might,” she says and sits down on the beach. “I’m running away, Corbin. But I’m guessing you know that already. I’m running away from me.”
I sit next to her, making sure my shoulder touches hers even though we have all the space in the world out here.
“I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” she continues. “I’ve never told anyone who didn’t have a Ph.D to treat crazy any of this. I’m sorry. I warned you I was fucked up.” She nudges my shoulder with hers, and I smile out to the lake. I could really use a swim right now. For a lot of reasons.
“That you did.” I nudge her back. “Good thing I find fucked up to be an endearing character trait. Keeps things interesting.”
I stand and hold out a hand. She looks at it, then at me.
“Where are we going now?” She sounds skeptical.
“I'm taking you home. You just ruined truth or dare for me.”
She smiles as I pull her up so close to me I feel her heat, and I allow myself to soak it up.
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