Forty-Five—Bo
I
knew I was being unfair, unforgivably unfair. That wasn’t my intention, but there was only so much I could manage at the moment, and seeing Ivy was not on the list. Neither was talking to my sister. She’d called, she’d texted, and she’d called again. Several times. One of her messages was particularly brutal, excoriating me for not saying goodbye to Ivy. Did my fool sister really imagine I hadn’t been excoriating myself for hours over that same thing? Her last message was a hair softer. She was worried about me. And now Mom had called, and the whole family was in turmoil because I hadn’t been seen or heard from in 4 ⒈／⒉ hours.
One would never guess I was an adult male. Challenged but not totally debilitated, quite possibly worthy of a formal, latest-edition DSM diagnosis, but not gravely disabled. Not insane. Not completely. However…I was sitting in a parking lot just outside of Bakersfield, nearly four hours from my home. Perhaps there was something amiss.
I rolled the window down, but the air was heavy, moist, and probably crawling with pollutants, so I rolled it back up. It was just dark. I pulled out my phone and texted my mother. Hey, Mom. All’s well…had a crap day. Sorry Mia worried you. I’m fine. I’ll call you tomorrow. My thumb hovered over the send button while I worried that my words didn’t sound convincing enough. I added an I love you, thanks for checking on me and pushed send, immediately wanting to recall the message, wanting to add to it, mad that Mia had put me in a position to have to write it in the first place .
My phone almost instantly dinged. Mom sent me a smiley face with Thanks for letting me know. Take care!
I blew out a relieved breath, hoping she’d let Mia know.
I actually felt a little bad for my sister. Mia had taken on the unofficial responsibility of keeping me tethered. She was also the one who kept my parents informed and reassured of my wellbeing. I loved her for it. But I did not want to talk to her right now. I didn’t want to talk to any of them.
I’d had one plan this afternoon: to get as far away as possible . I’d grabbed three bottles of Xanax and drove away. I’d grabbed the Xanax so I’d have options, but I’d spat the one Mia had insisted I take in Daniel Proctor’s parking lot out the window. What Mia doesn’t understand, what no one understands, is that sometimes just having the medication within reach calms me. It calms me just knowing it’s there. So, after I’d cleaned up, I grabbed the pills and took off. And I’d just kept driving, until now I was in Bakersfield. Bakersfield!
I wish I were normal. I wish I could step outside of my weird reality and do normal things, be a normal guy, laugh and let anxious things roll off my back. I so envied the ease of most of the human race, the way they simply adapted to the nuances of their existence without tension creating a gravel carpet under their skin. Me? I had to know what was coming, and when. If not, I got apprehensive, which was the precursor to anxiety, which led to panic, which ended in crisis. Or could . I kept it all in check by confining my life to a metaphorical prison cell, into which I walked every day of my own volition because that I could usually control. Mine was a clearly defined world filled with only what I could predict. And all so I could feel safe. Safe? Please! My life filled me with self-loathing.
I could take this tiny pill as prescribed. I should. It helped, but it made me a little dull. So, I didn’t take it, unless I had no choice. It was a ridiculous game I played called Can Bo Get Through the Day Without a Pill? It was a bad way to live, and I couldn’t really explain it except to say that somehow, I felt more like a man when I finally shut down for the night having won that small battle. And if I ever needed proof of my particular insanity, there it was. But I was managing; everything had been manageable until Ivy moved in. And I did not understand how I had allowed that girl to so disrupt my formerly manageable status quo. And I didn’t know what to do with my constant thoughts of her; I just knew she’d utterly ruined my predictable little life.
And I wanted to thank her for it and hate her for it and make her stop doing it and hope she never stopped doing it and show me what she saw in me that didn’t scare or disgust her, what she saw that would make her say the words I need you, Bo . She needed me ?
But what did it matter now, she’d never say them again. I’d let her down.
Ivy needed me, and I was so me that I failed her. A breath shuddered out of my throat.
In a lifetime spent falling short, Ivy Talbot seeing my unforgiveable smallness was a singular low. I dropped my head to the steering wheel and grimaced in pain.
How many pills would it take to erase this pain?
She’d left me one message that I’d listened to twenty times. “I’m so sorry, Bo. I should never have asked such a thing of you. I hurt you, and I would never, never hurt you. I was only thinkin’ of myself. Please, please forgive me.”
Me forgive her.
How many pills…