When I opened my eyes, I could see sunlight peering through the curtains. My eyelids felt swollen, heavy—a souvenir from last night. That’s what happens when I cry so deeply at night. I tried to remember what happened, why I was waking up at all. Then it all rushed back to me… Patrick. I quickly looked around my room and I was alone. He wasn’t there. Maybe I imagined it all in a desperate attempt to hang onto this miserable lonely life of mine.
My head was pulsating and I was parched. I turned my head to my nightstand and reached for my glass of water. I noticed it was empty. That was odd, I never finished my water. At most, I would drink half of it by morning. I started to sit up and saw a piece of notebook paper lying on the pillow next to me.
I picked up the paper. I recognized the handwriting. It was Patrick’s. He was here. I wasn’t imagining it. Good. I wasn’t losing my mind. That was reassuring.
Liz,
I hope you’re feeling a little better.
Call me when you wake up. I don’t care what time it is, just PLEASE CALL ME.
You’re not alone anymore…
-Patrick
I couldn’t remember where I left my phone. I tried to think, but my head kept pounding. It could be anywhere in my room. I sat up and felt it right by my hand. Leave it to Patrick to find my phone and put it next to me, so I had no excuse to not call him.
I opened up my cell phone and scrolled to my last calls. He was my last call. I hit ‘dial’ when I saw his name. It rang once.
“Morning.” There was a sigh of relief. “I’m glad you called. Did you sleep okay?”
“Yeah, I guess. I vaguely remember…Disneyland?”
“Good.” I could almost hear a smile in his voice. “You’re coming with us on our next trip there.”
I wasn’t going to make any promises about anything at this point. I just got through last night, somehow, with his help. Thinking about the future was too much for me to deal with. “I don’t know…we’ll see.”
He ignored my lack of commitment. “How are you feeling? Any better?”
“My head is killing me and my throat hurts.” I looked over to the glass on my nightstand, it was still empty.
“Go get some water. I’ll wait.”
“Okay. Hold on.” I put the phone down on my bed. I picked up the glass and checked the time, it was around nine. I wasn’t sure if my parents were still home.
They went to church on Sundays. That was another bone of contention with my parents. They couldn’t understand why I didn’t have some compelling desire to go to church every week, or any week. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe in God, I just didn’t believe that I had to go to church every week to prove it. My parents finally gave up on me on this issue and stopped asking or telling me to go with them. After church, they ran errands, went golfing or had lunch. So, I had Sunday mornings and at least part of the afternoon to myself.
Still, I didn’t know if they had left yet. Just in case, I shook my hair out, to make sure it was as messy as possible and had it cover my face, especially my eyes. I didn’t want them to catch a glimpse of my exhausted face and swollen eyes. I went to the bathroom to get water. I didn’t hear any noise in the house. They must have left early for breakfast.
I put my glass under the tap and turned on the water. I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked like crap. Actually, worse than that. Even if I didn’t shake out my hair to hide my face, it was still a crazy mess. It was a good thing to hide my face, in case my folks were home, because I could see all the veins in my eyes and my eyelids were all puffy. My face was tear-stained. It was blatantly obvious that I had spent time crying. After my glass was filled, I took a long drink. I drank half the glass and refilled it. I washed my face, hoping that the water would remove the dried tears on my cheeks and refresh my eyes. It helped a little.
My head was still hurting. It was like a sledgehammer was going off in my brain. I needed to get it to stop. Drinking water wasn’t curing it fast enough. I looked through the medicine cabinet trying to find some aspirin or something. Funny, I would have sworn there was some in there, but I couldn’t find it. I guess, I’ll have to try to tolerate it for now.
I got back to my bedroom and picked up my cell phone. “Back.”
“Feeling any better?”
“No, well…my throat doesn’t feel like sand paper anymore. But my head… Agh.”
“Drink more water.”
“I don’t think that water will fix my head fast enough.”
“Just drink more water. You’ll feel better soon.” He held his position.
I continued, “I would have sworn there was Tylenol in the medicine cabinet, but I couldn’t find it.” I looked over to my nightstand. My bottle of night time pills weren’t there. Was my head hurting so much that I wasn’t seeing straight?
“Yeah…” He cleared his throat. “I have them.”
“Huh? Why…” I was confused. Why would he do that? What right did he have to go through my house and take stuff?
“I needed to make sure that you didn’t try to take anything.” There was no apology in his voice.
What was I supposed to say to that? Whatever anger I had toward him going through my things disappeared. I was touched that he cared and knew me. I might have been tempted to take more than the recommended dose. It was probably best that he took away all temptation.
“Liz…you still there?” He was hesitant and scared.
“Yeah.” I wanted to change the subject. I needed to do something today. I knew that staying at home by myself wasn’t the best idea. He had pulled me back from the precipice, but I was still on that cliff. I needed to throw myself into my work, keep my mind occupied. “Umm… Do you think we could work on our project today? Maybe edit the video?”
Maybe I should have asked if he was free first. I didn’t mean to put him on the spot.
But he didn’t hesitate to answer. He even seemed happy at the offer. “Sure. I can be there in a few.”
“Well, I still need to take a shower…” I had just woken up a few minutes ago. I needed time to clean myself up and change.
“No problem. 30 minutes? Is that good?”
“Uhh.. okay.” I don’t think he wanted me to be alone. Neither did I.