I yawned and shook my head a bit. Except for my thumping head, I didn’t feel too bad. I had slept pretty well and wondered how much of that had to do with a long soak in lavender-scented water.
“Are you awake?”
Michael appeared in the doorway, and I waved him in.
“How are you feeling?”
“Okay, I guess,” I responded with a shrug. I propped myself up on the pillows and took a few breaths. “Better, definitely. Thanks.”
“Chelsea thinks you’re going to stay,” Michael said as he sat down in the chair next to the bed. “I told her not to get her hopes up…well, my hopes up, really.”
As much as my pride wanted me to just say a quick thanks and get out, I couldn’t do that anymore.
“Can I?” I asked quietly. “I mean, just for a while? Until
I can get my shit together?”
“You can stay here as long as you want,” Michael told me. The relief and excitement in his eyes were obvious. “I’d like nothing more.”
“Are you gonna…gonna tell Dad I’m here?”
“Not if you don’t want me to,” he said, “though at some point he’s going to notice. He and Julianne do come to dinner on Sundays.”
“I’ll make myself scarce,” I offered.
“You know that isn’t going to be enough.”
“What day is it?” I asked.
Michael let out a long breath.
“Wednesday.”
“Then I have a while to think about it, right?” I said. “I have to get myself together, or I’m screwed.”
“What do you mean?”
“Tria…she said I had to do some stuff before she’d…well, before she’d consider taking me back. I need a better job—”
“What the fuck?” he muttered.
“It’s not like that!” I snapped back, knowing he had misunderstood. “She just…she needs me to be right…for her and…”
“And?” Michael asked when I didn’t continue.
I shook my head, crawled out from under the sheets, and went to my gym bag on the other side of the room. I opened it up and pulled the fabric-covered book out of it. I turned the page over and showed him what had become of my original list.
Make a list
Clean the apartment
Make appointment with the head shrinker
Get the psycho prescriptions filled
Talk to Mom
Get my shit together