22. Chapter 21
Chapter 21
Elsie
June 2 — 22 Weeks 2 Days, Papaya
W hen Marshall is away, we pretty exclusively communicate through email. It’s the easiest way for us to keep up with each other. Unfortunately, the cell signal isn’t good enough out where he is in the Gulf for phone or video calls.
We aren’t able to go back and forth every day, but we respond to each other within 24 hours most of the time.
Only, I can’t bring myself to physically pick up my phone right now, much less respond to an email.
Seeing my father on TV triggered the release of all the memories and feelings associated with him. All of the emptiness, loneliness, neglect, and abuse rushed to the forefront of my mind. And since then, I’ve just been numbly going through my days.
I’m sure Gunnar or Selene told Marshall about what happened, but despite how desperately I want his comfort, I can’t bare to bring myself to tell him everything.
I can’t do it because I’d break down. There’s no chance of getting around it.
And if I’m going to break down, then I want him here .
In general, I want him here, in our home, with me.
Every day that passes while he’s away has my chest aching for him to return.
The longing I felt for him while laying in bed being comforted by my friends has only compounded with each hour that’s passed.
It feels crushing.
I’m sitting in the kitchen, trying to choke down some fruit, when my phone buzzes on the counter where it’s remained plugged in for the past few days.
I know it’s him that he’s reaching out again.
But this time, I resist the urge to retreat back to my bed and walk over to grab my phone and face the music.
June 2 — 22 Weeks 2 Days, Papaya
E,
I haven’t heard from you in a few days. Everything okay?
M
P.S. 21 days until I’m home.
His response hits somewhere deep in my chest, a place more tender than I care to admit.
So, I keep my distance by keeping my reply short .
June 2 — 22 Weeks 2 Days, Papaya
I’m fine.
Elsie
Within minutes, another email comes through, making my heart plummet.
June 2 — 22 Weeks 2 Days, Papaya
No, even I’m not naive enough to fall for that. I have five sisters.
If you’re saying you’re fine, then everything is definitely not fine.
Gunnar says Selene told him about something that happened on Friday? At your brunch with the girls?
Elsie, what happened? Are you okay?
M
Too worked up to give him any kind of meaningful response, I turn my phone off and go back to bed.
Days pass, and I know Marshall hasn’t given up his mission to check on me, as people have now started showing up at my doorstep.
First, he sent Oliver, who camped out in the lobby for over six hours before I finally let him come up to see me. But only because he left and came back with my favorite takeout.
Then Selene and Gunnar came by. After my last experience with having Gunnar show up at my door via the elevator shaft, I let them in immediately. Which then meant I proceeded to push them out of my home as quickly as I possibly could. It was a feat unto itself with how overbearing they were the whole time .
Today, when the front desk calls up, it’s Zuri who’s downstairs.
Too exhausted to do anything other than cave, I drag myself out of bed and to the front door to let her in.
Before I even get the chance to open the door fully, Zuri is already pushing into my entryway.
“You’ve us all scared shitless, Elsie,” Zuri says sternly. “What the hell are you doing, woman?”
“Marshall sent you,” I conclude.
“No shit he sent me, he’s worried! We all are!” She continues her desperation to get through to me, making her voice climb with each sentence. “You’ve gone completely MIA, Elsie. This isn’t how you treat people.”
“I know,” I mumble.
“Then do something about it.” She says emphatically. “Talk to him. Us. A therapist. Talk to fucking anyone .”
“I can’t,” I say listlessly as I shuffle over to plop myself on the couch. “I just. I can’t.”
“Girl. You have to do something.” She insists.
“I know.” I sigh.
“You can’t keep going like this.”
“I know,” I repeat.
“Think of...”
I cut her off. “I said I fucking know, Zuri.”
Silence rings through the whole apartment as I try to catch my breath after snapping at my friend.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“I know.” She says with a small smirk. “Things are tense. I know you’re not okay, and that’s okay. But we have to do something to get out of your slump.”
“Okay. ”
“Okay?”
“Yes. Okay.” I capitulate.
“Where’s your phone?” Zuri asks, glancing around.
“Dead.”
“That explains a lot.” She groans before refocusing. “Computer then. If I accomplish one thing while I’m here, it’s going to be responding to that man’s fucking emails.”
“It’s in the office.” I bemoan. “It’s probably dead too.”
“You haven’t been working?” Zuri asks, her dark eyebrows raised in surprise.
“No…” I admit.
“That’s...” She ponders for a moment. “Almost impressive? If the circumstances were different, I mean.”
I let out a chuckle, more like a huff, in agreement.
“I’m grabbing both, and whichever is charged enough first to send an email from is the one we’re using.” She says in an authoritative tone.
Turns out my computer wins the contest, and within seconds of the screen lighting up, Zuri is thrusting it in my direction to type in my password.
“Thank you.” She chimes when I give her back the computer.
I watch her as she clicks around to open my email inbox and find the emails from Marshall.
“Do you want me to read them to you?” She asks, her eyes wide, probably because of the sheer number of emails in my inbox from him.
I don’t even need to look to know he flooded it with messages. I just know.
“No. Just respond to the most recent one for me?” I ask her .
“Yeah. Sure. Secretary Zuri Valentine at your service.” She says with a genuine smile.
It takes me a while to choke out the words, but I do manage to dictate a reply for her, and she clicks send when she’s done.
June 5 — 22 Weeks 5 Days, Papaya
Marshall,
Yes, something happened. But I’m handling it. I don’t need you butting your way into my business. Let it go.
Elsie
We probably would have sat in silence for a while if only my inbox hadn’t pinged almost immediately with a reply.
June 5 — 22 Weeks 5 Days, Papaya
You are my business, Elsie.
Please don’t shut me out like this.
M
18 days
Zuri’s voice is even and nonjudgmental when she reads me the message, but her face is full of pity.
Instead of trying to muster the energy to send another response, Zuri lets me off the hook for a little while, and we order delivery for two before curling up on the couch to watch something on TV.
My now charged phone sits on the coffee table before us, surrounded by takeout boxes, but I still jump when the screen lights up, and it pings with a new email .
The food, company, and comfort shows were just starting to pull me out of my dark headspace, but all I needed to bring back those feelings fit perfectly in the email preview notification on my phone screen.
June 5 — 22 Weeks 5 Days, Papaya
I’ll let you have until Monday, then. Then I need you to talk to me. If you don’t, I’ll call Mamá.
M
17 days
10:59 p.m. on Monday, I’m restless and awake when my phone, which I’ve kept charged this time to stay in touch with my keepers, pings with a new email.
June 10 — 23 Weeks 3 Days, Grapefruit
Elsie. Talk to me.
M
13 days
Frustration and anger boil up, and I tap out a sharp reply. Hoping I can stop things in their tracks.
June 11 — 23 Weeks 4 Days, Grapefruit
Stop it with your fucking countdown. I’ll see you when you’re home.
Elsi e
June 11 — 23 Weeks 4 Days, Grapefruit
Okay. No countdown, but you have to talk to me.
I’ve arranged with my crew boss to do a video call at 8 p.m. tomorrow. It might be a little spotty because we don’t have the best reception, but it’s something.
I need to see you, make sure you’re okay.
M
June 11 — 23 Weeks 4 Days, Grapefruit
Fine. See you tomorrow.
I hate the part of me that feels butterflies float up at the prospect of seeing Marshall again. I’ve spent all this time trying to isolate myself and re-acclimate myself to being alone, and the reminder of how much I want him, need him , is brutal and devastating to my ego.
Even worse, the knowledge is evidently precisely what I need in order to fall asleep.