He answered, right off. My heart pounded.
“Billy?”
“You. Okay?”
“Yeah. I’m at home now. Dad picked me up at seven last night and brought me back. I appreciate you helping me out. I’m sorry you had to see me like that. I’m––”
“It’s okay, Lind. I’m glad you’re home. How did you get on with the shrink?”
When Jason had gone to New York, Billy had become my best friend, as well as Jason’s. But then he’d ended up in the middle of everything when Jason had deserted me.
“Okay, I have to see someone regularly.”
“Well that’s probably a good thing isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
“How are you today?”
“Down.” I sighed. The psychiatrist had told me to be honest rather than keep things trapped inside. “Jason having the baby makes me feel like crap still. Is that a bad thing to admit? Only the woman at the hospital told me I should admit how I feel.”
“Lind, if it’s how you feel, it’s how you feel, it just is. I know all this stuff is hard on you. I’m not judging you. Like I said the other day, I feel like I’ve let you down… Do you want me come around so we can talk?”
“Yeah.” God the thought of having someone to talk to outside of my house, and everything weighing down the atmosphere in here, was wonderful. Like an oasis in a desert.
“I’ll come over now then, yeah?”
“Yeah. You’re not working?”
“I’ve got a gap between clients. I’ll come over.”
“Don’t knock. Call me when you get here.”
“Okay, I’ll be there soon.”
“Okay. Bye.”
“Bye, Lind. See you in a while.”
“Yeah.”
I fell back on my bed, lying on my back, with my cell still in my hand and stared up at the ceiling. Tears blurred the white fluffy clouds Dad had painted against the blue sky when I’d been a kid. The tears wouldn’t stop. I’d cried loads since I’d woken up in the hospital.
It was twenty minutes after I’d spoken to Billy that I got the second call.
“Hi, I’m parked outside your house. Do you want me to knock?”
“No, stay there, I’ll come out.” I ended the call, wiped my eyes, and stood, then glanced in the mirror. I looked like a ghost, pale and pasty. I hadn’t gone out of my room yet. I sat down to put some makeup on to hide the sorry-looking state of my face. I hated looking at myself in mirrors but I had to face that ugly girl to put on the mask I hid her behind.
Mom was in her chair in the living room. “I’m going outside.” Guilt made me feel I had to tell her everything so she didn’t worry I was doing something stupid.
“Why?”
“Billy’s outside, I’m just going to sit in his car and talk to him.”
“Lindy, love, you can bring him in…” She felt guilty too. Mom didn’t really want anyone in the house, she’d said so, anyone who saw her would know she was sick, and she didn’t want anyone to know––but after what I’d done, she was worried about it hurting me. It made me feel worse.
“It’s okay, I’d rather speak to him outside. We won’t go anywhere.”
“Darling––”
“Sorry. I just need to talk to him, then I’ll be back in.” I knew what she wanted to say, I didn’t have to explain myself––but then I knew she was afraid I’d try to kill myself again. “You can look out the window if you want.”
“Lindy…” My name was said on a sad, weak, sigh. She needed to know I was okay, but she didn’t want to have to know.
I’d messed everything up by taking an overdose. I don’t even really know why I’d done it. It’s just, that night, everything had seemed too much, and I’d had a drink, and escape and relief had opened up like a window I could jump through. I’d seen freedom from the pain ripping my soul apart, and I’d taken the chance.
But if I’d succeeded it wouldn’t have been an end to anything; it would have just made things worse for the people I’d left behind.
Fate had saved me from doing that.
But now I had no choice. I had to cope.
I turned, opened the door and went out.
Billy’s SUV was parked on the other side of the road. Nothing was coming up the street. I crossed over and went around to the passenger door, my heart racing as if someone was beating a crazy drum solo on it. “Hi.” I climbed up into the passenger seat.
“Lindy…” He’d freed his seatbelt already, and now he twisted sideways. He had long, loose shorts on.
We hadn’t spoken properly for so long––I didn’t really know what to say.
I pulled the door shut, anxious and nervous, and stared ahead, avoiding looking at him.
“You okay? Do you want me to drive somewhere?”
“No.”
“Do you want to talk?”
Yeah. So much. Tears gathered in the back of my throat, hurting.
I didn’t look at him. I’d cry.
My hands were in my lap. He leaned over and gripped one of them. “Lindy, I’m here.”
Oh Lord, the tears tumbled, rolling down my cheeks, and I was sobbing as his grip on my hand pulled me over, and he moved forward. Then his arms came around me, holding me tight.
“I’m sorry… I didn’t realize how bad you felt. I wish… God, I wish I’d handled things better. I let you down.”
I shook my head and looked at him. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault. It’s nothing to do with you.” I had a lot of people to apologize to. Surviving had made me see two things; I had to change and I was meant to accept things and just get on with it––like Mom did. But doing that wasn’t easy.
“I don’t know what to say.” His dark-blue eyes were warm and deep with feeling.
I sighed. I didn’t know what to say either. All I knew was that I hurt too much, and I didn’t know how to escape it.
“Do you want to get away?”
“What?”
“I could drive you out to the coast somewhere, once I’ve had time to book something, and you’ve had time to pack…”
I wanted to hug him back like he’d just hugged me––hard and tight––with gratitude and relief.
“We could run away together for a couple of weeks and not tell anyone where we’re going. No Jason. No baby. And no expectations from me, I swear. We’ll just be friends. I want you to be happy.”
I took a breath. I didn’t know what to say. What about Mom? And then there was my psychiatrist. And… “I don’t know.”
His hand gripped mine hard; the emotion in his eyes shining bright. “Lindy, let me make this up to you. I’ve been a shit friend for the last six months, and you need a friend––”
I did… “But you were with Jason.” My pitch came out as an accusation; any thought of Jason still raised a bitter taste in my mouth.
“You remember?” Guilt passed over his face.
“Why were you with him?”