Page 43 of Come to Me

"Talk to me. I want to hear it."

"There's not much to say. I've been busy. I've been... less than perfect about my recovery work. But it's fine. I skipped lunch twice. And... I got scared. When I got the urge again, I called Angela. It hasn't happened since."

My stomach drops. Angela is her sponsor.

She skipped two meals. But it's a good sign that she reached out for support.

She clears her throat, and I bring my gaze back to the little image of her on screen. "It's really not a big deal," she reassures me. "I've just been nervous during rehearsals. Makes it harder to eat."

"I'm glad you reached out for help." I say carefully. "You know you can talk to me too."

She shakes her head.

"Luke, it's not a big deal."

"It sounds like a big deal."

She folds her arms. "Sorry. It's just... I'm trying to handle this the best I can, okay?"

"Why do you have to handle it on your own? Why can't you talk to me about it?"

"I just... it's hard to talk about." She shrinks further into herself.

"You don't have to talk to me. But I'd really appreciate it if you did. I'd rather know what's going on than worrying about it all the time."

She takes a deep breath. "You'll think less of me."

"I won't."

"How do you know?"

"Because I love you. Because nobody's fucking perfect. Least of all me."

She cracks a smile at that.

"Excuse you. My man is perfect, I'll have you know."

I wish I could hold her right now.

"You can trust me."

She presses her lips together, searching my eyes before nodding slowly. "Okay. But I don't know where to start."

"Why did you really skip lunch?"

"It was an accident the first time. I was too busy. But then I liked it. It felt familiar. Comfortable." She presses her fingers together. "I know it's stupid. I've been in recovery a long time. And I didn't even usually restrict. But everything with this play is so overwhelming and every time I try to tell you how scared I am, you tell me I can do it."

I frown.

"That's bad?"

"No, not bad. But it doesn't make me feel any less terrified," she explains.

I nod, trying to understand.

"Tell me about it."

"I fight this panic when I get to rehearsals. I want to lock myself in the bathroom. I'm so out of my league and I've never done anything like this. Not on this scale. I can't get on stage. Not in front of two thousand people who are waiting for me to fail."