Chapter Six #2
He lets me go, brushing his hands down his sides to regain his composure. “Haven’t you talked to Leslie? She pitched you for my upcoming campaign. I told her I was still considering other models, but I’ve always felt strongly about your talent. Maybe we can get together to talk it over?”
All the blood drains from my body. The room starts to spin and I’m barely able to keep myself upright.
No. No. No. Not now. Not in front of him.
“I-I-I have to go.” I push past him, sprinting to the bathroom and shutting myself inside the farthest stall.
I put my head between my legs to try to keep the vomit down. It’s hard to breathe. It’s hard to move. It’s impossible to speak.
This is the one that gets me. I’m going to die here.
I squeeze my eyes shut and try to force air from my lungs. It takes only moments for everything to go black.
At some point, a quiet tap on the stall snaps my eyes open.
“Dani, it’s me. Let me in,” Ri whispers.
“Ri? What are you doing here?” I look down at my palms, red and angry with impressions of my nails.
“You texted me an SOS and then didn’t say anything else, so I tracked your phone. Talked my way past security.”
I don’t remember pulling out my phone. I don’t even know how long I’ve been in this bathroom. Has my absence been noticed?
I crack open the stall and pull Ri inside.
She holds up a small purse. “I have my travel sewing kit with me. I assumed this was some kind of wardrobe malfunction. What’s going on?”
Tears well in my eyes as I release a shaky breath.
“Dani, hey. What’s wrong? Talk to me.” She grips my shoulders, concern marring her features.
The skin on my wrist feels hot, right where Nigel grabbed me. I claw at my skin, trying to scrape his touch away.
Ri puts her hand on top of mine. “Stop. Stop. You’re gonna hurt yourself.”
“Good,” I cry. “He touched me.”
“Who touched you?”
I ignore her, training my gaze on the tarnished spot of skin.
“Dani.” She stops me once again. “Who touched you?”
I shake my head vehemently. I can’t. I can’t.
She takes my hands in hers, forcing me to meet her eyes as she initiates a deep breath, encouraging me to follow her.
“You’re okay,” she coos. “You’re okay.” She shushes me like a baby on her shoulder when a sob breaks free.
“You’re okay, I’m here. You’re fine. Everything’s fine.
Say it with me, Dani. Okay? Say you’re okay. ”
“I’m okay,” I say shakily.
“You’re fine,” she says.
“I’m fine,” I spit out.
“Everything’s fine,” she says, rubbing circles on the inside of my palms.
“Everything’s fine,” I say, taking a steady breath.
She makes me stand in that stall repeating those words and deepening my breaths until it feels less like labor.
“I’m sorry,” I croak.
She shakes her head. “No need to be sorry. Let’s get you out of here, okay?”
“I can’t go back out there.”
“Well, if you don’t, you’ll have to move in here, and that’s no good. I’ll go out first. You take a minute and then follow me. Okay?”
When I zone out on the bathroom floor again, she grabs my chin and turns my face to hers. “Okay?”
“Okay.”
She nods her approval. “One minute, Dani. Don’t make me come back to get you.”
I say okay again and count down to myself.
Ri leads me out of the party, and I abandon my coat in favor of a quick exit. She gets me home and tucked into my bed before joining me.
“How are you feeling?” she asks.
“Better. But my head is killing me,” I say, rubbing my temples.
She goes to my bathroom and comes back with two pills and a glass of water, which I down without question.
“Thank you, Ri. For everything.”
She waves me off. “You’d do it for me. What should we do now? Watch some reality TV?”
The words you’re okay, you’re fine, everything’s fine became my haven. They saved me more times than I can count.
Micah and Bailey’s voices drift upstairs, reminding me that I can’t hide out here forever.
I hate being reintroduced to the woman staring back at me in the mirror.
The sweat droplets lining my edges, the hard-set line of my mouth that refuses to tip in either direction, the glassy eyes.
My least favorite version of myself. I had hoped to never see her again, but here she is reminding me that she’s always there no matter who I mold myself into.
Looking around the bathroom, I spot my purse hanging on the doorknob. I must’ve grabbed it on autopilot when I ran out of the bedroom. I sift through its contents until I find my blotting papers, eye drops, and concealer. Never leave home without them.
Walking down the steps, Micah and Bailey’s voices drift from the den. When I reach them, Micah is carefully taking Tanya’s paintings off the wall while Bailey is wrapping them in bubble wrap.
She spots me first, throwing her hand up in a wave. “Hi, I’m Bailey.”
I’ve never met Bailey in person—I’ve seen only pictures back when Micah and I knew each other—but she’s grown into a beautiful woman. She and Micah could be twins even down to the smile. I wonder if they get it from their mom or dad.
“Dani, my sister, Bailey. Bailey, this is Dani. My … friend,” Micah says, not moving from his spot.
He doesn’t look up, but he pauses, waiting for me to reject the concept of us being friends.
I want to object, because we’re not friends.
We don’t know how to be friends without blurring the lines, which always leads to our downfall.
Something in me won’t let me do it, though, so instead I turn my focus back to Bailey.
“Nice to meet you,” I say.
“How are you holding up?”
“I’m okay, thanks for asking. And thanks for helping with all this.”
She walks me through what they’ve done since she got there, and I realize I was locked in the bathroom for longer than I thought.
Our polite conversation keeps my emotions in check, despite my eyes flying to Tanya’s paintings with Micah’s every move.
Needing to do something to keep myself busy, I grab a box from the hall closet and start loading the paintings inside once Bailey finishes wrapping them.
“Have you guys started thinking about the gala? Themes and stuff?” she asks, eyes darting between us.
For the first time since I’ve walked downstairs, Micah looks at me.
We haven’t discussed the gala or the scavenger hunt Tanya is sending us on. Cleaning out her house seemed like the safest place to start.
“Is drama a theme? That’s what Tanya would want,” Micah says.
Bailey rolls her eyes. “Well, no. Not exactly. What about a color scheme? What was Tanya’s favorite color?”
“Teal and gold,” we answer in unison.
That color combination is the definition of opulence, she used to say.
“Easy enough. Then we’ll go with that.” Bailey makes a note in her phone. I can see the wheels in her head turning, the gala perfectly falling into place.
“Franky, don’t start,” Micah warns.
She cuts her eyes over to him in a way only little sisters do. “Don’t start what?”
“You don’t have to do everything. Dani and I can do it.”
“And you will. But I can help, so stop trying to bench me,” she demands.
“I didn’t say you couldn’t. I’m just saying. You get all hype and you wanna take everything on by yourself.”
I make no moves to hide my eyes ping-ponging back and forth between them, but they don’t even seem to remember I’m here.
“I’m aware of my limitations. You don’t have to keep reminding me,” she snaps.
“Franky, I …”
“Umm, sorry,” I interrupt. “What am I missing?” I regret the question as soon as Bailey looks at me in stunned silence.
She takes a minute to gather her thoughts. “I have MS and that means Micah sometimes forgets I’m still a capable adult.”
The look on Micah’s face is a stab to the gut. My heart goes out to both of them. I know Micah means well, that he adores his sister, but he clearly crosses the line to smothering.
“Maybe I should get Micah and my mom together while you and I plan this extravagant party.” I don’t know anything about multiple sclerosis and now isn’t the appropriate time to ask my questions, but I can relate to the problem of overprotective family members.
My mom and I fought constantly about her need to keep me safe when I didn’t think I needed it.
I didn’t truly understand her struggle as a concerned mom until my late twenties.
Right now, Bailey doesn’t see Micah’s overbearingness as care—she sees it as him underestimating her. That, I can help with.
She smirks. “That sounds perfect. Micah’s a terrible party planner, anyway.”
Micah looks like he wants to say something, but I catch his attention with a subtle shake of my head. His words won’t help right now.
The tension between the siblings dissipates long enough for us to get back to work, until Micah picks up the painting. The painting he finished for Tanya on the day she introduced us. The day that changed our lives forever.
“Ooh, she’s wearing teal and gold. We should hang that at the entrance,” Bailey offers, not realizing what memories she just stumbled into.