Chapter 2 Skylar
Skylar
Since pain won’t let me sleep, I’m caught up on most of my admin duties by morning, from deleting buy links to reviewing the membership requests assigned to me.
The sheer number of people who have joined in the last four years is overwhelming.
But every newcomer reminds me that even if some of these tasks feel tedious, someone will appreciate this work when they’re at their loneliest and saddest hour.
I’ve been there. When I first realized that most people couldn’t handle me talking about my pain, it damn near killed me.
There’s no dagger to the heart like opening up to a loved one only to discover that your life is a little too inconvenient and sad (read: disabled) for them.
I quickly joined a national support group for IIH.
But after attending a chronic pain retreat in Rochester, I wanted to be part of something smaller—something more than a Q&A forum. But it had to be online because in-person events drained too much energy. So I created this group with three women I met at the retreat.
I hoped we’d become friends, but our personalities never really meshed.
Still, the group helps me cope emotionally with chronic pain.
It gives me a community, a safe space to vent, and a place to share knowledge and lived experiences.
Doctors tend to bristle when we bring in our own research, but patients know their conditions best. For many of us, support groups are the only way to find answers.
Every time I accept a new member, I feel like I’m paying it forward. Someone else no longer has to be completely isolated because they can virtually attend our movie nights or moderated discussions from their beds or preferred pain spots. As a bonus, I met Emy and Analia.
Pike has sent you a message.
I sit up so fast that black sparkles temporarily take over my vision. Once I can see again, I shake out my tingly hands. He wrote me!!
It’s only ten, but Analia responds with a popcorn-eating GIF. WHAT DID HE SAY
I open Pike’s message and cringe.
What the hell???
My pulsatile tinnitus whooshes louder and faster. Okay, okay. I expected him to be mad.
How does it even cross your mind to pretend to be a random dude’s girlfriend?? To his MOM??
…But not this mad.
I’m sorry! She was going to call the cops!
Pike is typing pops up for so long that I turn on a rerun of The Price Is Right. I can’t watch because of my eyes, but Bob Barker’s voice is soothing in the background.
It has to be the worst-case scenario if he’s typing this much. If you already have a boyfriend/girlfriend, I write, I will totally call whoever and vouch for you.
No girlfriend. But.
I wait. And wait. And wait.
She’s already left me a dozen messages. She wants to meet you!
My thumbs pause. I said our relationship is new.
Yeah, thanks for that. Not.
Pike is typing. Good grief.
I haven’t had a serious girlfriend…ever?
I always told my mom the day I did, she’d be the first to know.
Now she’s not only wondering if I’m suicidal but also why I didn’t tell her about my new relationship.
You said I was at your house, Skylar. Sleeping.
Fucking. Over. Now I can’t even pretend it’s a casual fling like always.
My eyes narrow at our break in polite conversation. I copy everything over to Analia. HOT CANE BOY IS A PLAYER.
Not necessarily, she says. You prefer casual flings.
That’s different, but Pike sends another message.
I don’t need this bullshit. Not here. I’m reporting you to the admins for harassment.
I let out something between a gasp and a protest and almost swallow my cotton tongue in the process. It’s not harassment. I know the rules. I *am* an admin.
Well, there’s another one, he says. Maria. We talk. Good thing you sent me a screenshot of your lies.
My face flushes with a rush of irrational jealousy. Figures he’d talk to Maria. She’s the prettiest admin and the most outgoing, the one everyone gravitates toward.
Oh shit, what if Maria also tells Tess and Adiba, the other two admins?
My chest tightens unbearably. Pretending to be someone’s girlfriend isn’t against any rule, because who in their right mind thinks of doing that?
No one, that’s who. I’m not in my right mind, though.
My brain is being squished. Surely that qualifies me for some leniency.
But even in my panic, I don’t want to use my disability as a shield. That’s not why I helped him.
Analia’s sent me about twenty messages, but I’m afraid to leave my chat with Pike. He might already be writing Maria.
Hear me out for two seconds, I plead. I was trying to help. Your mom thought you were suicidal.
That doesn’t mean you pretend to be my girlfriend!
You’re rgiht, I say, typing so fast I don’t care about typos. I messed up! I hvae family taht doesnt understand my chronic pain. I thoght yours was the same. I loved your poem! I’m rly sorry!!
Pike is typing.
Note to self: Never engage with a hot profile picture again.
I had no idea my mom was even in this group, he says. How the hell did that happen, admin?
Let me check. I go to Laurie’s profile. Adiba accepted her, so I pull up her application responses. I don’t have chronic pain, but my son does. I want to learn.
We allow caregivers and loved ones, I say. Her answers seem like she has a little kid. Usually that’s why moms want to learn.
I’m 27. There should be rules against parents joining without the consent of their ADULT children.
My neck throbs from holding the same position too long.
I shove at my makeshift pillow throne and drop back against it, but my head still feels like it weighs a thousand pounds.
I fully support that! I write. I can look into changing those rules.
Parents/partners could identify their loved one in the group and get permission? Either way, I’ll remove your mom now.
Wait. Don’t remove her. Not yet. She’ll worry even more.
I’m getting the impression this guy is more of a thinker than a slow typer. Maybe he hasn’t messaged Maria yet.
I’ll remove her when you give the word. Pike starts typing again, but I plow on. Listen, now that she knows you’re okay…can’t you tell her I made it up?
No.
Is she so horrible/ableist that there’s no way you could explain why I stepped in?
Pike sends me a damn essay.
My mom isn’t horrible. She cares a lot. But she’s having trouble accepting my new disabilities.
I can’t open up to her about how I’m really feeling.
I try to be positive and put any negative thoughts into my writing instead.
Sometimes things are dark, but it’s not because I want to die.
I just need to get out the heavy, which my mom’s not ready for.
Now—because of your interference—she sees an alternative to the depressing image she has of her disabled son.
I have a girlfriend. Things must not be as bad as she imagines.
I can still have the “normal” life she wants for me.
Ugh. He just had to pull on my heartstrings. And use em dashes in a chat.
You can still have a “normal” life while disabled!
I say, but I get what he means. My parents haven’t accepted my disabilities, either, and it’s been five years.
I didn’t even bother telling them I went into remission for seven months.
They don’t understand that IIH is lifelong, that remission isn’t a cure but a temporary abatement of symptoms. And now it’s back.
Like I knew it would be but dared to hope it wouldn’t.
I’ll talk to Maria, Pike says. This shouldn’t happen in a group like this. Especially from an admin!
I type a few words so it looks like I’m responding, then message Analia. What should I do?
Emy has entered the chat.
1) can’t talk long because we’re making pasta 2) this guy is an ungrateful mofo who should feel lucky u stepped in 3) u should meet his mom.
That’ll make her seem like a stalker, Analia says.
no, meet his mom *with* him
I blink. What.
Log off, Skylar, Analia says. He clearly doesn’t appreciate what you did for him.
He threatened to tell the other admins!
meet his mom, Emy insists. pretend ur his gf for a day.
He could be a serial killer, Analia says.
meet in a public place! is it bad i think u should suggest it simply because he’s hot? She’s obviously already forgotten that he’s an ungrateful mofo.
I don’t know what to do. I understand why he’s uncomfortable. He might even leave the group. We’re striving to be inclusive—a guy’s perspective is rare.
And this group is my lifeline. I spend most of my evenings here. It’s the only place I can truly be myself.
I won’t allow anyone to threaten it.
What if I met your mom? I ask Pike.
Are you drunk?
Hear me out. You don’t want your mom’s ableist fantasies shattered. I would like to make up for putting you in a tough situation. So how about we pretend we’re together? I’ll make you look awesome so she’ll stop hovering.
Pike is typing.
I proposed it, I tell the girls.
Analia calms down first. I’ll sit in my car with sunglasses while you’re with him if necessary.
i will bring my sharpest knitting needles, Emy says.
I love you guys, I say with sobbing emojis. We’ve never even met in person, but they have my back more than anyone I’ve known in real life.
I head back to Pike’s latest message. The phone feels too bright now, and each new word stabs at my already aching eyes.
It’s not the worst idea. But if you don’t want me to talk to the other admins, we’ll need to do this for at least two months. Having a “serious” girlfriend for only one day won’t keep my mom off my back. And you and I will meet first because I’m a little creeped out by you, not gonna lie.
I’m screaming by the time I’m done reading.
You’re creeped out by *me*? Read what you just wrote, buddy. You want me to date you for *two months*!
I don’t want to date you. But you need to do this more than one time so I don’t have to pay a random redhead to be “Skylar King.”
I perk up a little. Ooh, there’s money involved?
No! It was your idea!
two months with this broody hot poet? Emy sends eggplant emojis. can *i* pretend to be skylar king?
Ugh, go back to your pasta, I say, wishing I also had a family to cook with me.
Hello? Pike writes. Don’t leave me hanging, Skylar. You owe me.
I glare at my screen. I’m trying to be nice here, but let me be crystal clear. I don’t owe you anything. You can’t make me do anything.
You’re right, he says. It’s just—argh. Argh? Another em dash? Is this guy for real? All I want is to erase the part of my life where my mom read the most vulnerable thing I’ve ever written. But I can’t. This is the next best thing. Please.
What?? Now he’s the one begging?
I said I would meet you. But two months? That’s too long!
I’ve casually dated supermodels for longer than two months, sweetheart.
I rub my tired eyes. Okay? I know I don’t look like a supermodel, but…what does that have to do with anything? I ask him, then tell the girls: He told me he dates supermodels??
if i looked like him, i would too. Emy is a beautiful Italian woman with raven hair straight out of a Pantene Pro-V commercial, so I’m not sure why she thinks she can’t. But that’s a conversation for another day.
I meant that they’re pretty high maintenance, Pike says, and they still tolerated me. It’s not like we’d see each other every day.
But there’s still a problem. If you date supermodels, your mom will never buy that we’re together.
Why not? You’re pretty. I like pretty women.
So, he’s shallow. Wait: He said I’m pretty!?!?
*SCREECHES* THAT’S BECAUSE U R, Emy says.
Pike sends a raised eyebrow emoji. Is this the part where you tell me your profile pic is fake?
No. That’s me.
I can work with that. So, you’ll do it?
I hesitate. I’ll agree to meet to discuss details, and then we’ll see. My job will be demanding soon, and I’ve just come out of remission with my neurological disorder. I’m really overwhelmed.
He makes me wait an agonizing five minutes for a response.
Sorry to hear that. Sure, we can talk about the details when we meet.
And then you won’t show our convo to anyone? I ask.
If your performance is satisfactory.
Tears unexpectedly prick my dry eyes. I’m absolutely terrible with parents. I haven’t dated anyone in two years. With all my problems, there’s no way I’m going to make a good impression.
No worries, I write. I’ll be the best fake girlfriend ever!