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CHAPTER SEVEN

I 've never been more grateful for a morning shower. Last night was incredible, but I feel utterly disgusting covered in all the fun hours later. Standing under the scalding spray of the water, I close my eyes and let it run down my body before positioning myself so that it hits my ankle as well. It doesn't hurt as much as yesterday, but it's still tender.

Sid made a whole ordeal of telling me to be careful in the shower and not to slip, even demanding that he rewrap it when I've finished cleaning up. It'd be cruel to deny him his doting tendencies, so I simply promised I'd stay off it as much as possible in the bathroom. He's funny. Just last night, I "didn't matter unless he was fucking me," and now here he is, worrying over me just as bad as Mom or Dad.

Layers, that man.

I finish washing up a few minutes later and sit down on the side of the tub to dry off. I don't trust my balance enough to hop around on one foot trying to maneuver my towel through every nook and cranny.

As expected, when I step out into the hallway, the smell of breakfast wafts through the entire cabin, but there are more voices this time. Not just Julian, Derreck, and Sidney, but their coworkers, laughter accompanied by the clinks and scrapes of knives and forks.

I stop in my bedroom to tug on a shirt, then head into the kitchen to find the others. Amir, Bradley, and Ian sit around the large dining table with the others. When they hear me enter, Bradley says,

"There he is! How's the ankle doing, bud?"

I make a show of turning it from side to side without wincing. "Better. Not perfect, but. Dr. Sid's not getting sued for malpractice, let's just say that."

Amir lets out a loud laugh, nudging Sidney's shoulder. Sid rolls his eyes, but I see that smile forming on his face no matter how hard he tries to stop it.

Julian says, "I made you a plate, Jay. It's in the microwave."

"Oh, thank you." Just as he said, there's a large plate of food waiting for me inside. I punch in twenty seconds, just to nuke it for a bit, and when it's done, I carry it over to the table to join the guys. While he recounts some story about a belligerent customer he had a few weeks ago, Derreck pours me a glass of juice, sliding it my way like it's nothing.

I feel like I should be uneasy about this group of guys, but I don't.

Sure, we don't have a damn thing in common considering half of them have wives, kids, or mortgages to pay, but none of that makes me feel like I stick out like a sore thumb. It's all natural, like I've known them for years and I'm part of this regular cabin group.

Amir's the loud one, the other cabin's version of Derreck, Bradley's the go-getter, and Ian, despite being new to the company, seems like he's very clearly the younger brother of the group. The butt of the joke, but never in a cruel way.

I don't know why these people always seemed so scary—or at the very least, unapproachable. But that's how brains work sometimes, don't they? They can twist up even the smallest doubts in your head and convince you that everyone is looking at you. Everyone is judging every single word that comes out of your mouth.

I used to let that shit go unchecked for so long, to the point where it eroded even some of the closest friendships I had, but this morning, sitting at the table with these guys, I don't notice that nagging voice in the back of my head. It's nice not to care so much. To not want to run away whenever someone looks at me.

As the group splinters off into mini conversations, Julian turns to me and asks in a low voice, "How're you feeling this morning?"

"I'm okay," I say, looking up at him. "I'm not just saying that, either. I'm sore, but..."

His knowing smile is infectious. "That's good. You did a good job last night. Surprised all of us."

"Yeah, well. I think I surprised myself too."

Who knew little ole me could get down like that? Up until last night, I'd been so sure I would never do anything crazy. I was a good Christian woman, goddammit. I didn't sin in such ways.

Last night was just another bullet point on a long list of things I didn't think I'd be able to do on this trip. In another universe where Mom knows everything I did up here, she's probably so proud of me for sticking it out and not putting up a fight when she encouraged me to leave.

"I'm looking forward to seeing what else you can do."

The look in Julian's eyes is downright criminal, and if we weren't hosting breakfast for the other cabin, I'd lean in and kiss him. Something tells me that he's not even talking about a year from now when we've all returned. Derreck mentioned it earlier, but I don't think any one of these three would hate it if I stopped by the office for a quickie.

The thought alone makes me shift in my chair just a bit.

"I'm looking forward to showing you," I reply, winking at him and turning back to the others, slipping into whatever conversation they're having.

Breakfast goes on longer than intended, and it's not until Ian checks the time and reminds us that we leave in an hour that we break apart to start packing all our things up. I drag my feet to my bedroom, sighing to myself. It really is time to go now. No more bullshitting, no more stalling.

When I bring my ass back up here next year, I'll have to push Dad to extend this trip for more than just two and a half days. That's not enough time to do half the things I want with Sid, Julian, and Derreck, let alone all of that plus being out in nature and doing Dad Shit like fishing and hiking. A week would work much better.

Jesus, this weekend has turned me into someone else completely...

In my room, I grab my bag, set it down on the bed, and begin emptying the nightstand drawers, throwing out the few candy wrappers I stashed away during my time here. Feeling around in the back, my hand connects with something, and I pull it out.

That goddamn bottle of pills again.

I have half a mind to toss this in the trash as well, but I know that wouldn't do anything but require me to spend more money when Mom inevitably found out it was "gone" or "forgotten" or whatever excuse I gave her.

I laugh bitterly at myself. It was silly to think good dick could fix all that I have going on. There aren’t enough backshots in the world to fix the shit going on in my brain. Leaving this place loaded up might get me through the next few days back home, but the thing in my head would only be biding time. It doesn’t go away. It doesn’t disappear.

I turn the bottle in my hand, watching the yellow-tinted pills inside tumble over one another. So light in my palm, yet the weight feels like I might drop them at any moment. I clench my fist around the orange cylinder and squeeze, letting out a slow breath through my nose.

They could fuck me up. They could land me with the laundry list of side effects every commercial warns you about. I could be worse by this time next year, and that thought alone freezes me in place, cold blood solidifying in my veins.

They could fix you too.

They might hurt me, but just as equally, they might help me.

Julian’s sister springs to mind. Just as lost as me. Probably just as scared. But she did it. She swallowed her fear. She fought for the happiness she deserved. Why should I give up when I have so much less to lose than her and her family?

My hands shake when I reach for the lid, pressing down and twisting. I fumble, nearly dropping the cap on the ground, but I manage to keep my grip around it, setting it down on the nightstand. The glass next to it is nearly empty, only one swig left, but it’s enough.

You deserve to be the you that you were before this happened.

Water first. Then the pill. But I can’t do it. My throat feels swollen shut, and I can’t breathe. I want to spit it out, but Julian’s voice echoes in my head on repeat. I see Mom’s looks of concern when I barely make it to dinner. I see Dad’s disappointment when I turn down another movie night in the den. I see myself in the mirror, a shambling, hollow image of who I used to be.

And I don’t want to see them anymore.

Tears burn down my cheeks, and I make myself swallow.

The pill’s melted some, and the taste of the water is bitter, enough to make me gag. But I swallow it down, coughing hard. I’m left staring at the bottle. At my name printed across the label. The drug’s name. The date. How many refills I have left. I read them three times before I take a seat on the bed.

I wait.

I wait longer.

I half expect there to be an immediate shift. The sun will suddenly feel warmer, desserts will taste sweeter, and I’ll be dancing at a party, throwing my hands up like Scarlett Johansson. I know it doesn’t work for a few weeks, though. The room is so quiet, I can hear the others as they pack up. The second cabin loading up their cars.

Nothing’s changed, really.

No, there’s nothing ostensibly different about the world as a whole. Maybe that earth-shattering realization will hit me later, months from now when I least expect it. Or maybe things will continue as they always have, and only I will be different.

I wipe my eyes and try to control my breathing. That acrid taste is still in my mouth, but something like pride helps ease the discomfort. Spitters are quitters, after all. I reach for the cap and twist it back on the bottle, glancing over it one last time. If months of this depression didn’t defeat me, these fucking things sure as hell won’t either.

The grandfather clock down the hall strikes noon, a sudden reminder that we leave in about thirty minutes, and I haven’t even started packing. I rise from the bed and begin stuffing my dirty clothes back into my bags, running through the list I saved on my phone to make sure I didn’t leave anything up here. It’d be a bitch to trek all the way up for my missing shoe or a necklace.

I pull the zipper closed just as there’s a knock at the door.

Julian leans against the frame wearing the same low-level smile he’s had on since we woke up this morning. He glances at the pills on my nightstand, then back at me. For just a moment, his smile falters.

“Are you good to go?” he asks. I’m not sure whether he means with the medicine or the trip home. I grab the bottle, stuff it in my pocket, and sling my bag over my shoulder. I don’t feel any of the nerves from before.

“I’m finally ready,” I tell him.

Julian smiles, and a moment later, so do I.

THE END