Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
CARI
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know who else to call. I know you guys are having trouble, but I was worried about her, and I didn’t know if she had family I should call.” I hear Hazel say.
My head hurts, and I try to remember the last time I ate or had water. Everything is a blur.
“It’s okay, we are her family,” River says.
I try to open my eyes wider to see who’s with her.
My heart leaps at the thought of Max being with her.
But everything hurts, a pounding in my head, my mouth too dry to ask.
When was the last time I even left the bed?
I remember refilling my weed pen at some point, but I don’t know when.
I roll over when I feel the bed shift. Someone touches my hair, brushing my bangs out of my eyes, and I can see a little clearer.
Aspen is looking at me solemnly. I wonder what is going on with her.
“Hey, how are you, buddy?” Aspen asks.
I try to answer, but my mouth is too dry, and everything seems to feel heavier than it actually is. It isn’t something I’ve ever felt before. Nothing hurts, but all my body parts feel heavy. As if moving them is taking more effort than it usually did.
“Riv,” Aspen calls and I hear a second set of feet across my floor.
“What’s going on Cari?” River asks.
“I’ll get her some water.” Aspen excuses herself, coming back with a bottle of water. I glance at it, but I don’t have enough energy to drink now.
“Cari, you have to drink and talk to us,” River says, helping me sit up before taking the open bottle from Aspen.
I want to growl at her, but it’s easier to go along with her.
I take a big sip, and another, and another before realizing I’ve drunk the entire bottle.
I am still thirsty, but my body feels instantly better.
“I know you’re upset about what happened on Instagram, but you can’t stay in bed for two weeks. Hazel and I are worried about you.” River sighs.
Instagram, the pounding realization that my income and stability is gone.
All because of a stupid photo. I was high and sad, ignoring the very obvious rule of social media.
It was rare to get away with a naked photo, I thought maybe, since my nipples were mostly covered, it wouldn’t count.
But enough of my former followers reported me, and that was all it took.
No matter who I emailed or how many times I appealed the decision, my account was still gone.
My million followers. Gone. With no new way to follow me. Which soon meant my deals would be gone too. I was wanted by those brands because of the people I could reach.
Without my audience, I am no one.
“I didn’t know it’s been two weeks,” I admit. I know better than to question her, she wouldn’t lie about something like that.
“What’s going on with you lately? Are you depressed or something?” River asks, her tongue laced with concern.
“No, I’m just having a tough time. I’ll bounce back,” I lie. It doesn’t feel the way it used to. I’ve never felt this low before, and part of it scares me.
“Cari, I think you should call your therapist. When was the last time you saw her?” Aspen adds quietly.
“I uh, I don’t know. I’ve canceled the last few times. I’ve just been busy.” I shrug. It feels like I’m carrying the weight of the world when I do.
“Okay, give me your phone. I’m calling her right now.” River holds out her hand for my phone, but I don’t move, only glancing at her hand.
“Look, I appreciate it. But I’m capable of calling my therapist myself. I’ll give her a call later,” I lie. I don’t want to see her and I’m pretty sure I ghosted my last few sessions.
“I didn’t ask a question. I’m here to help Cari. Your sisters said you haven’t called them back in weeks, and Hazel said she’s barely seen you leave your room. We’re worried about you, and you need help, C,” River says, keeping her hand out for my phone.
“I’m fine. I get the concern, but I’m fine.” I sigh.
“You look like crap, C. You haven’t showered in at least a week; your hair is a mess. You’ve been kicked off Instagram, and no one’s heard from you. I know with Max, it’s a lot, not to mention Halloween. But I’m still here for you, and this is a cry for help if I ever saw one,” River says angrily.
“Fine, so go, and I’ll shower. Happy?” I grumble.
“I can’t do this.” River sighs, looking at Aspen. Aspen gives her a nod toward the door and closes it behind River, looking at me.
“You don’t want to hear this, and that’s fine, but I’m not leaving here until I see you talking to your therapist. You can smell like crap and have shitty hair, but you cannot and will not hurt my wife.
You’re not you, Cari. I know things with Max got complicated, and I’m sorry for that, but you have to rise from all of this,” Aspen says.
“What if I don’t want to?”
“What if you don’t want to what?” She looks at me confused.
“What if I don’t want to rise from this? What if I’m over trying to make the best of everything? Why can’t I just accept this is the way things go and that fucking sucks?” I don’t know where they come from, but the tears I’ve been holding back are pouring out of my eyes like waterfalls.
“C, this doesn’t sound like you. This sounds like something bigger than you. Will you please let us help you?” Aspen touches my hand, and I nod. “Go shower. River will make you some coffee, and we’ll call your therapist together, okay? We can take everything one by one.”
“Okay.” I slide my legs off the side of the bed. “I’m really sorry for what happened on Halloween.” Aspen nods, telling me it’s okay, at least for now.
I am wearing clothes that are so old I can smell them when I move. God, is that terrible smell coming from me? I guess I do need a shower.
Glancing in the mirror, I gasp in horror.
My eyes are streaked with week-old makeup, my bangs are matted to my forehead, and pimples cover my usually clear face.
There is blonde hair on the bathroom floor.
I guess I never cleaned it up. I turn on the shower and look for a clean towel, only to find my usual one on the floor in a heap.
The water is way too hot on my skin, but it somehow feels nice to feel something other than my heaviness.
My bedroom is empty when I get out of the shower with a set of clothes laid out for me on my desk. My bedsheet has been stripped from the bed, a bare mattress in its place, and all the windows in my room are open.
The laundry that was all over the floor is gone, as are the empty vodka bottles I had on my nightstand. I don’t remember drinking them, but I know they were there.
Aspen and River walk back in after I get dressed, and River doesn’t speak as she helps Aspen make my bed with fresh linen.
“Does your therapist do video calls? Or do we need to go down to her office?” Aspen asks.
“We usually meet on Zoom.” I sigh.
“Okay, I need you to schedule an emergency appointment right now,” Aspen says.
“It’s not an emergency.” I frown.
“I know you can’t see it, but the way we found you is most definitely a mental health emergency,” Aspen says, clutching my shoulders.
I nod, but I don’t have the energy to make the appointment. Let alone touch my phone right now. I’m not even sure if it’s charged. I didn’t want to scroll for the first time in my life, so I let it go dead. Afraid of what I will or won’t see by turning it on.
I don’t want to be reminded of everything I’ve lost. I glance around the room, hoping to see it in an obvious spot. Finding it on the floor next to my nightstand isn’t a surprise, so I just point. Aspen picks it up, tries to turn it on, and plugs the charger in.
“Here, I made you some coffee.” River returns from the kitchen with a steaming cup of coffee in my favorite pink mug. It’s smooth, the marbled outside never gets too hot despite how hot the inside is. I take a small sip, randomly remembering the reusable cup she’d lent me the day after her party.
“Your mug is in my cabinet. It’s clean, I just never returned it,” I tell her.
“Thanks,” River says curtly. I don’t blame her, we haven’t spoken in weeks and the first time we do it’s because I’m in a crisis.
“Okay, your therapist has time in the next ten minutes to hop on a call. Where’s your laptop?” Aspen asks.
“Uh…” My voice trails off. It’s like I’m in a brand new place, all my thoughts aren’t coming out as easily as normal, and I don’t know where anything is. “In my bag, but it’s probably dead too,” I admit.
Aspen gathers my things and sets up the computer at my desk. I sip the coffee, feeling a little more awake and a little more human since my shower. I feel a brush running through my hair and realize it’s River. She’s spraying conditioner on my mass of tangles trying to brush them out.
She’s not saying anything to me, but she’s being kind with each brush. It still hurts like a bitch because it’s all matted in some places and in others it’s full of knots. But she’s taking her time and using way more conditioner than I normally need.
“We’ll be outside if you need us,” Aspen says as she pulls up Zoom on my laptop. I shouldn’t be surprised she guessed my password, or maybe she remembered it from when we were roomies.
“C-can you stay? I-I don’t want to be alone,” I admit.
Aspen looks at River, who’s still brushing my hair. I can feel her nod, and Aspen smiles at me encouragingly. River keeps brushing as I take a seat at my desk, and Shirley, my therapist, pops on the screen. River sits on the bed next to Aspen.
“Hey, Cari, I’m hearing you’re not having such a good time? Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?” Shirley says, tucking her grey hair behind her ears.
I glance at River and Aspen, they’re holding hands, Aspen brushing her thumb over River’s.
“I had a bit of an issue with my social media and lost my account, on top of losing Max, and I guess I spent a week or two in bed not really doing much.” I sigh.
“Okay, tell me more about that. I know you and Max were having a rough time, but what happened with your social media? I thought your career relies heavily on posting and having a social presence.”
“Yeah, I posted something and got removed. My account was deleted and I guess I took it sort of hard. I don’t think it’s worth an emergency call, but my friends are worried.” I shrug.
“Well, it sounds like you have some pretty good friends. You say you didn’t leave your bed for over a week? Were you eating? Showering? I know you weren’t keeping up with our sessions,” Shirley says.
“Uh.” I look over at River and Aspen. I don’t know why I asked them to stay; now I can’t lie to Shirley about anything. “Not really. Just a lot of sleeping,” I admit.
“Okay, so it sounds like you might be depressed. I think it would be best to match you with one of our in-house psychiatrists and see what kind of medication would be best for you.” Shirley starts scribbling notes in the book on her lap.
“Meds? I don’t need meds. I got a little sad and slept. I’m fine.” Why is everyone overreacting?
“Cari, I can see you’ve cut your hair; your friends were worried enough that they came over and called me.
Not to mention your questionable behavior over the last few months leading up to this.
Maybe it’s time we discuss trying medication, at least to see if that could take the edge off things for you?
” Shirley says, as if she’s offering me candy and not a life sentence on antidepressants.