Chapter 52 Verity
FIFTY-TWO
Verity
I bolt off the hospital elevator and sprint down the hall, following the signs to the room Mel said was Tessa’s.
The glaringly white walls and antiseptic smell drag me back into the past. It all feels harsh and familiar.
Memories of being the one in the bed at the end of the hall make me stumble, and for a moment, my feet are sealed to the floor.
“God, Gem,” I mumble, swiping at the tears rolling over my cheeks. “I should have been here.”
I force myself forward, one step after the other, until my gait smooths out and concern for Tessa eclipses my own fears.
Mel emerges from the room, and as soon as our eyes lock, her face crumbles.
She walks into my arms and collapses. We share a moment where our fear and sorrow and guilt commune.
I don’t know if she’s rocking me or if I’m rocking her, but it’s a steady sway, a metronome that synchs and settles our heartbeats.
“How is she?” I sniff and pull back to search Mel’s face. “Tell me she… is she… because I can’t—”
“She’s okay.” Mel pulls back and her eyes are ravaged, like she’s seen hell. “Her mom’s with her.”
“I’m her SOS.” I press my face to her shoulder. “She called and I was going into a meeting. I didn’t answer. I was gonna call as soon as I was done, but then Sheila called, and I… Did Tess… Is that when she… It’s my fault, Mel. I should’ve—”
“Hey, hey, hey.” Mel grips my chin and forces my gaze to meet hers. “None of it’s your fault. She took some pills, but it was accidental, or at least she says it was.”
“Jesus.” I drop my head, and it feels so heavy my neck might snap under the weight.
“She called you and me, but neither of us was available.”
I rub her back and force myself to look down the hall. “Let’s go get our girl.”
As soon as I enter the room, I search Tessa’s eyes.
I’ve faced this in the mirror too many times not to recognize it—the wildness of mania or the weight of depression.
Bipolar 2 often presents more as hypomania or depression than full mania, but I brace myself for anything.
I focus on the fact that she’s safe and here and they’re probably already stabilizing her with meds.
Her mother is asleep in the corner, legs tucked under her on the bench built into the wall that’s doubling as a bed.
“Shhhh!” Tessa presses her finger to her lips. “She just conked out. She’s been here for hours, and I can’t make her leave to get some sleep.”
Mel takes the chair on one side of Tessa’s bed and I take the other. She grips each of our hands in her own, looking first at Mel and then at me. When our eyes meet, her bottom lip trembles.
“I’m sorry, gem.” Her voice barely clears a whisper, and misery swims in her eyes. “I’ve been really sad, but I promise I didn’t mean to do it this time. I would’ve SOS’d you. I wouldn’t leave you here alone with the normies.”
“Um, hello.” Mel raises her hand. “Right here.”
“Sorry,” Tessa and I say in unison, both managing to laugh just a little through our tears.
I stroke my thumb over the jagged scar camouflaged by the SOS tattoo across Tessa’s wrist. “Can you tell us what happened?”
“I can try.” Tessa swallows and scratches the skin inside her elbow. “I had been so sleepy, so tired, but couldn’t go to sleep, so I dug out those old sleeping pills. I took two, but I still couldn’t sleep. I think I took another, or maybe it was two more. I don’t remember.”
Tears trickle over her cheeks as her gaze wanders to her mother sleeping in the corner. “I hate putting everybody through this again. My mom, she doesn’t deserve it. I’m such a screwup.”
“Hey, hey, hey.” I squeeze her hand and reach up to cup her face, wiping away the tears. “We’re not gonna let those lies win. Your mother loves you. We all do. You’re not putting us through anything. Family sticks together—good, bad, thick, thin. If it were me in that bed, where would you be?”
Tessa’s mouth wobbles and she squeezes her eyes closed, clutching my hand almost to the point of pain, but I couldn’t care less. “Right where you are now.”
“And I may not have the same diagnosis,” Mel says, leaning forward to rest her chin on the bed. “But you’d be there for me and I’ll always be there for you. The diagnosis, circumstances—doesn’t matter what. Who is what matters. We’re your who, Tess. Every time. Anytime.”
“Thanks, guys.” Tessa bites her bottom lip, not bothering to swipe the fresh cascade of tears. “I’ll be here for a few days. They want to observe and get me stabilized. I hadn’t been taking my meds, so they want to get those into my system.”
She angles a wry glance at Mel. “So you were right. Happy now?”
“I’m happy you’re doing what you need to do to get better,” Mel replies carefully.
“And I’ll be here for you as much as possible.
I’m sorry I checked out. I could see you slipping, and it was the worst time for me to get caught up in a new relationship.
Things got so weird between us, but I should have stayed home. I shouldn’t have…”
Now the tears flood Mel’s eyes and overflow.
“You didn’t neglect me,” Tessa says, stretching her arm across the bed to grab Mel’s hand. “You have your own life. No one’s blaming you. I’m a grown-ass woman who can take care of myself.”
Tessa waves a hand over her bed and chokes out a dry laugh. “I mean, I know it don’t look it right now, but I’m responsible for myself and must create the best life I can.”
Hearing the affirmation I’ve repeated so often to myself sketches a smile on my lips, and when I look up, Tessa is smiling back. Those words have anchored us both more times than we can count.
“You tried,” Tessa continues, shifting her attention back to Mel. “We both know you clocked me skipping pills and not doing what I needed to for my mental health. I’m happy for you and Clint. There’s been times you put your life on hold to make sure I was good. I know that. You a real one.”
“So are you, Tess,” I say. “You’ve been a rock for me more than once, and I want to be that for you, which is why I’m staying.”
Both sets of eyes turn to me, wide and questioning.
“Staying?” Tessa gasps. “What do you mean?”
“When are you breaking outta here?” I ask, resting my chin in my hand and smiling.
“Few days.” Tessa shrugs. “Like I said, they wanna monitor me. Make sure I get a few days of meds in. I’ll meet with my therapist and my psych probably a lot until things level out.”
“I need all of that, too.” I bite my lip and trace invisible patterns on the hospital sheets. “I’ve been slipping myself lately.”
“You have?” Mel frowns. “Are you okay?”
“I’m not manic.” I split a look between my two best friends. “Yet. But I’ve been working too hard. Not getting sleep. I’ve skipped my meds a few times. Not exactly on purpose, but… just with the Dessi shoot and the show I’m developing, I haven’t been vigilant and it shows.”
“Shows how?” Mel asks.
“Let’s just say Sheila saved my ass in the pitch today.” I shake my head. “I could use a few weeks to rest and get my shit together before it gets out of control.”
“And you’d stay here with me?” Tessa’s words are tentative with hope. “In New York?”
“Whatever I need to do can happen here.” I shrug. “With Neevah so sick, we’ll get the last few shots if she gets better…”
My words trail off as the seriousness of Neevah’s condition hits me again.
“When she gets better,” I amend. “Until I have to be back in LA, why not take some time to stabilize, slow down, reestablish my routines. And where better to do it than here with you?”
“Thank you, Gem,” Tessa whispers through her tears. “That means everything to me.”
“I’ve heard of friends’ cycles synching, but this takes the cake,” Mel fake-grumbles. “Y’all not leaving me out. I’m gonna take some time off, too. The three of us in the apartment together will be like old times.”
We share a collective cackle, and though I know Tessa’s not out of the woods yet, and that I need to reestablish the routines that keep me well, I’m clutching these moments with my besties.
“One good thing about my hypomania,” I say, slumping in the plastic chair and letting my head drop back so I can study the ceiling, “I wrote the script I’d been working on for months in two days.
You know some of my best work happens this way, but I do feel myself slipping.
I’ve been doing this long enough to recognize the signs. Hell, so did Monk.”
“Monk?” my friends ask together, nearly identical looks of surprise on their faces.
“You ain’t told us nothing,” Tessa says. “Y’all together for real, for real?”
“Yeah.” I grimace. “If I didn’t run him off. He asked me to come to New York with him and I wouldn’t. And look, here I am anyway.”
“He’s here?” Mel asks. “Monk’s in New York?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “Working on an album for a few days.”
“Well, why are you…” Tessa pauses when her mother stirs in the corner, and takes back up where she left off in a quieter tone once she resettles. “Why you here with us?”
“Because you’re my girl,” I remind her, squeezing her hand.
“Are you serious about staying with me for a while?” Tessa asks, her smile wavering with the fear and doubt a close call like this leaves in its wake.
“I sure am.” I give her a little wink.
“Then you’ll have plenty of time with us,” Tessa says, offering a watery smile. “You better go get your man.”