34. 34
34
PARKER
S omething is off with Lyla.
It’s eerily similar to a few months ago, when she isolated herself from me and took time off from work.
This time around, she’s still coming into work, but we haven’t spent much time together outside of the store in a week and a half. Shortly after the new year began, it was like a switch flipped in her. Her light dulled and she began retreating into herself. Even her mannerisms changed, her once exaggerated hands now stayed limply by her sides when she interacted with customers. A voice that once held so much enthusiasm, now lacked its passion.
I’ve noticed dark circles under her eyes, which are now missing their usual glow. Her once vibrant irises are now the shade of moss; still beautiful but lacking in their brilliance of color. As if her soul is vacant from her body, the windows sealed shut in its absence. A gaze that had once ignited something within me, now laid dead.
I’m trying to give her space, while still letting her know that I’m here for her. I brought her coffee every morning this week and had even forced her to eat a sandwich yesterday for lunch. Cassie had mentioned that Lyla was lacking an appetite, so I was making it my mission to ensure she was eating at least one meal a day. The woman who had moaned around bites of pasta just last month, was now looking at food as if it had mold all over it.
She’s currently looking at her stew with that exact frown.
Stew that I knew for a fact is a favorite of hers. The stew that’s my mother’s recipe. Stew that we have had countless times before.
Watching her stare at her bowl, zero emotion held within her gaze, something in me breaks.
“Please, tell me what I can do.”
The plea hangs in the air, thick and desperate.
Her eyes flicker to mine, sadness washing over them, before returning to apathy.
“I’m not your problem to fix, Parker.”
Frustration claws in my chest, but I keep my breathing even, knowing I can’t be combative in this moment.
“No, you’re not. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to help you. Please, baby.” I reach out for her small hands, feeling how cold they are compared to my own. “Tell me how I can help. Talk to me. Anything.”
She lets out an irritated groan before withdrawing her hands from my grasp.
“Don’t you get it? There is nothing you can do. There is nothing anyone can do, Parker. This is me, this is what I live with.”
Tears brim in her sunken eyes and she huffs out a breath.
“You’d never understand,” she whispers before she bolts for the stairs.
I stand frozen, watching her retreating form and hearing her apartment door open before promptly slamming shut.
Lyla calls in sick for the rest of the day after her mad dash upstairs and I decide not to pry. I’m worried the more I push, the further she’ll retreat. She’s like a damn deer, and I’m scared to spook her. The rest of the week, she acts the same, and by the end of day Friday, she runs upstairs as quickly as possible to get away from me.
I can’t help this gnawing feeling that something is seriously wrong. I even debate calling her mom. I know that Cassie has Kathy’s cell number, but I quickly dismiss the idea. I don’t need Lyla getting angry with me for breaking her trust, or Cassie for that matter. Cassie had come to me in confidence, telling me that Lyla is often having nightmares and staying awake late into the night. She told me how little she’s been eating, and how she would lock herself inside of her room unless she needed to use the washroom. She hasn’t been going to the studio to see Bev anymore, and the weight has been shedding fast, which only adds to my concern.
After barely hearing from Lyla all weekend, I’m getting nervous to see her. Entering the store, I take a deep breath and brace myself.
Only to find my dad behind the register.
“Dad, what are you doing here?”
He looks at me quizzically. “Lyla didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?” My heart pounds in my chest.
“She called me last night and asked if I could step in for the week.”
Something about that makes me extremely anxious, but I do my best to brush it off. Maybe all she needs is some time off to take care of herself and she would come back to work next week being her sunshine-like self.
Why didn’t you tell me you were taking the week off?
I knew you would worry.
Well, yeah. I don’t know what’s going on with my girlfriend and it’s starting to worry me.
Everything will be okay.
I love you.
I love you, too.
And you can always talk to me, Lyla.
I don’t even remember the drive to Theo’s house. I don’t remember making the decision to come here.
But here I am, standing on my best friend’s doorstep at midnight.
I toy with the idea of knocking. I raise my fist so many times, ready to rap on his door. I let out a frustrated growl, angrily running my hands through my hair and pacing his stoop.
The porch light turns on and I see Theo peek behind the curtain before rushing to unlock the door.
“Parker?”
He looks at me with confusion before his gaze softens. I don’t know when I started crying, but I can feel the moisture lingering on my face. My vision blurs and I let out a small choking sound. My friend’s arms wrap around me fiercely before the sob even leaves my throat. I bury my head in his neck and let go.
I feel everything all at once, the emotions running rampant through me, ripping everything I am to shreds.
Fear.
Confusion .
Guilt.
So many conflicting things, each one fighting for attention.
I don’t know how much time has passed, but Theo doesn’t waver for a second despite the bitter cold cruelly wrapping itself around us.
With one last sniffle, I pull away.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I don’t even know why I’m here.”
Theo step aside, allowing me into the house. I plop down onto his sectional, a minimal weight temporarily lifted after having a good cry.
Sometimes, a man just needs to let it out.
I hear Theo rustling around in the kitchen and the clinking of glass before he returns with two glasses of bourbon. He hands one to me, along with the bottle of booze, before sitting on the other end of the couch. We sit in silence for a few moments before I finally break it.
“Something is going on with Lyla, and I don’t know how to help her. Theo, she’s—she’s wasting away in front of my eyes. She used to live life in technicolor, and now it’s like she’s living in grey. I’ve practically begged her to confide in me, to tell me what I can do to help her. But every chance she gets, she pushes me away. Every day, I feel her slip further and further away from me. I don’t know how to reach her.”
I shoot back my drink, pouring another right away, and let my words linger in the air as Theo contemplates how to respond.
“Parker,” he sighs. “I wish I had a magic solution on how to fix this, or how to get Lyla to open up to you, but I don’t. Because it’s in Lyla’s hands. Only she can make the choice to break down that last barrier.”
He runs his hand over his scruff before taking a big swig of liquor.
“Lyla has been through more than any one person should endure, and I can guarantee she wants to open up. Craves it, even. But there’s something holding her back, and I think you just need to be patient and let her come to you. Keep supporting her in the ways you can, but don’t push her.
“She’s like a deer—more scared of you than you are of it.”
I let out a half-hearted chuckle and my best friend smiles warmly at the sound.
“Theo, if I lose her…” I trail off because I can’t even finish that sentence.
I thought it hurt when Annie left.
Losing Lyla would obliterate me, leaving nothing left of my heart or soul.
I pour my third bourbon and throw it back.
“You won’t,” he says with conviction. “Having met Lyla, I can tell that she’s a fighter. She’s gotten this far, hasn’t she?”
I look at him; strong and resilient Theo. A man who nearly lost his life and fought every fucking second to be here.
I’m reminded of the days where he didn’t feel like he could carry the weight of everything he went through. Where his strength wavered, and his spirit dwindled into kindling, barely keeping him alive.
If he could get through that time in his life, then maybe Lyla could too.
I move to stand but the alcohol coursing through my veins has me staggering. Theo grips my shoulders and steers me towards the guest bedroom.
“No driving for you tonight, buddy.”
I fall into the bed with a huff and stare at the ceiling.
“Theo?”
My best friend lingers in the doorway, looking at me with so much compassion it makes my chest tighten.
“What if I cant get through to her?”
“I have faith that you will. It may not be tomorrow, the next day, or even this week. But one day, you will.”