“What is it then? What’s going on? Will you have some ibuprofen? Something for your stomach? We have a whole medicine cabinet stocked here.”
I feel like if I give her something to do, she’ll stop threatening me with the hospital, which is the last thing I need. “Fine.” The word hurts. My lips feel raw, and my mouth still tastes horrendous.
Darby walks around the kitchen, and I close my eyes. The tap runs above me. She’s back a few seconds later with two pills on her palm and a glass of water. I take them and put them on my tongue. I want to choke immediately, but I swallow them dry in hopes they won’t come back up. I decline the water. She doesn’t like it, but she sets it aside, and a moment later, there’s something cool and wet on my forehead. I keep my eyes closed, but her fingers are pressing at my bottom lip. Not hard. So, so soft. My tongue peeks out despite myself, and the first lick floods my mouth with the taste of heaven. A mint. She’s trying to put a mint in my mouth. I open and let her do it. The taste of mint is so, so much better than anything. Just that small, first suck against it settles down the roiling ache twisting my guts into chaos.
“I can massage your temples if you like.”
“That would make it worse.” Lies. But I can’t stand her touch—soft, fleeting. More painful than all the pain of my life, more soothing than anything I’ve ever known. It’s killing me. She’s not real. Mortification fills me. I’m an embarrassment, and this makes me weak, weak, weak. “Just go for a walk.”
“What do you mean a walk?”
Every word is like death, like a death blow to my skull. “Leave. Now.”
“I’m not leaving. Maybe this room, but not the cabin. If you want me to shut up, you had better tell me what you need, and it’s not nothing.”
“You’re annoying and obnoxious.”
“Isn’t that what all spouses think of each other?” A pause. Then, a swallow louder than a gunshot and breaths louder than the howl of the wind on a storm-wrecked night. Wrecked. I am wrecked. My head is tearing in half. “How long?”
“Hours. Maybe days.” I don’t know why I tell her. That voice doesn’t sound like me. Maybe I’m finally having one of those cheesy out-of-body experiences, minus the cheese. This one hurts too much for cheese. Getting out of my body sounds like a good idea right now.
“Days?”
“It’s not so bad. Probably hours this time.”
“This time?” Darby gasps.
“Please. Leave.”
“When I asked you if you had a medical condition, why did you say no if there were other times?”
“Headaches aren’t a medical condition.” I swallow past the bile rising up in my throat. “Please. Stop. Talking. Or I’ll vomit again.”
“Okay.” Then, Darby lets out the longest sigh. “Can I help you to bed?”
“No.” I can make it. Any longer sitting here, and she’s going to make good on her threats and call for a freaking ambulance just like my sister did.
It takes more strength than I have in me, but I’ve always been good at dipping into that reserve and drawing on it when I need to. That’s how I survived. I force myself up, and even though I waver, I don’t let Darby help me. I wobble down the hallway, lurching and stumbling, but it’s not a big cabin, thank freaking god, and I eventually throw myself down onto the bed. My cheek hits the pillow, and lookee here. I even manage to get myself into it the right way.
Pain like red-hot knives stabs into my skull over and over. Acid crawls up the back of my throat again, and I gag. The bed dips, and Darby’s ready with a fresh, clean trashcan, but I can’t. I won’t. I will not be this weak in front of her again. I swallow hard, convulsively, over and over again, forcing my body to calm the fuck down.
“I don’t know what to do.” She sounds like she’s the one in pain, but that’s all wrong. I hate this. I hate that I’m causing her pain. I only ever wanted to protect her, protect all of them.
I say nothing. There’s nothing to say. Nothing to do. The pain will stop when it chooses to stop, and until then, I’m at its mercy. I never wanted her to see this, never wanted anyone to see it. I’m mortified. Her fingers reach for me, the softest, most soothing touch on my forehead again. I want to reach up. Reach for her. The shame surges up inside me, and I hesitate. When I finally raise my hand, she’s already gone, already pulled away, and her soft steps are retreating, ebbing. And now that she’s gone, I let the tide of black agony in my head suck me under.
7
DARBY
I’ve only gone to get a cold cloth and a glass of water, but when I come back, Leon already seems to be asleep. He’s on his side, which makes me feel better since he won’t choke that way if he throws up again. I hope.
I have never felt so lost in my life. All this time, I knew there was something wrong. Something he’s been hiding that he doesn’t want anyone else to know or see. He doesn’t even look like the Leon I know.
I spot his phone on the nightstand, where he must have tossed it before he fell into bed. I don’t know what to do. Part of me wants to call an ambulance, but the other part hesitates. I don’t want Leon to hate me for the rest of…well, to eternity. I don’t want to take away his choice. I don’t like doctors much either, and I hate hospitals. If he said no, then he meant no. I don’t know how often this happens, but if he really needed to go, I think he would tell me. He wants to stay here, so I’m going to let him for as long as I can, but I’m still afraid. My heart is racing, and my whole body is drenched in a clammy sweat.
I don’t want to snoop, but I pick up his phone. I know his passcode from watching him put it in so many times. He probably has no idea that I know, and I feel like I’m violating all my ethics by doing this, but I need to.
Leon has never talked about his family, but we didn’t have that kind of relationship. He only ever talked about work. I didn’t even know about Kitty until yesterday morning, but I know about her now, and she probably knows what’s going on. Maybe she can help me.