Chapter 33 Skylar
Skylar
We’ll still talk! Analia says. We always have our private chat.
But half the things we talk about are based on stuff in the group. As I type, my hands shake. I’m going to miss out on everything.
We’ll fill you in! Besides, you have Pike. You’re not online every night anymore anyway.
I hate the hearts she sends. She’s trying to make me feel better, but I don’t like missing out every time I’m with Pike either. And now I’ve wasted the past two days since the article came out freaking out about what everyone is writing about me.
My conversation with the admins broke me. I saw the messages we received. People are afraid their vents will be made public. Even if their background comments aren’t of interest to the press, are they fodder for trolls? Employers?
My employer was interested. I’m on probation now. They’ll review my contract once the school year ends. They were already annoyed I took so much sick leave, and now my boss made me take the week off to avoid drawing more attention.
The takedown notice didn’t help. The website removed the article, but the damage was done. People posted, blogged, and took screenshots. Someone created a subreddit. They debate which issue Pike should dump me for. (Top contenders? Not giving him enough sex and “being a whiny bitch.”)
But it’s even more worrying to know one of my doctors could learn what I wrote about them. What if Dr. Richardson reads the article and drops me before I even see him? What if Dr. Wharton learns how much I bashed him? He could drop me too. Then I’d have no access to my meds or treatment again.
I wish I hadn’t used my full name, I say. Analia, you were on to something.
*blush* I have to be careful because I talk about my vagina.
Emy sends a hug. i have to go but we’ll msg tonight.
Thank you. I need to be present more than ever now, before Analia and Emy get used to me not being around.
I push away the cold-sweat panic that keeps strangling me, and try to think proactive.
I could rejoin my group with a fake name, but if I do that, am I any better than whoever did this?
I could spend more time in my IIH support group.
They’re all lovely and helpful, but it’s just a Q&A board.
No live discussions, no group streaming nights or activities.
I could message an admin to organize an event, but with twenty-three thousand members, could I pull it off?
My phone rings, and I grimace. Mom. I’ve avoided her calls, but if I don’t answer soon, she’ll come over. We’ll have to do this in person.
I pick up.
“Skylar Rebecca King.”
I wait.
“I’ve never been more humiliated in my life.”
And there it is.
“My friends have been calling nonstop, thinking I’m a bad mother! That our family is completely dysfunctional!” She continues yelling. I hold the phone away and head to the kitchen, hesitantly putting it back to my ear when I can’t hear her anymore.
“I’m sorry,” I say. I have to smooth this over. “I know that’s hurtful to hear. But I feel like you’re centering yourself when—”
“Centering myself! The things I do for you. Pay for. Help you with!”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” I hang up and busy myself making tea before I burst into tears.
“Honey, I’m ho-ome.”
I shriek.
“Skylar? Are you okay?” Pike rushes into the kitchen with takeout bags as I flop against the countertop.
“Your creepy singsong voice scared me! I thought someone online found my address.”
“Sorry, shit.” He kisses my temple. “Just me.”
I normally melt at his adoring smile, but I want him to be mad like me. But Pike doesn’t get mad. He’s always fine. Always great. He’s told me a million times that this’ll blow over. If we ignore it, it’ll go away.
“What are you doing here?” It comes out harsher than I intended. He often stops by to bring me dinner, but I wasn’t expecting him tonight, and I’m not myself right now. I gesture at my laptop, though I’ve just been moping. “I’m supposed to get started on work prep for next week.”
He holds up two white bags. “I got us Tahou’s. Want a Junior Plate?” At my expression, he laughs. “All right. Someone’s hungry. Regular plate for you. But I’m not sharing the hots.”
“I can’t eat any of that.” I point to my head.
“What about the patty or fries? You had both in Whistler.”
“I was on vacation. Treating myself. Garbage Plates have more sodium than my brain can handle daily.”
“Is your pressure up again?”
“It’s always up. That’s the point.” I wince as soon as I’ve said it. “Sorry. Just got off a bad call with my mom.”
“No problem.” He takes out the aluminum containers, the mouthwatering scent of home fries and hot sauce wafting over me. “Have you talked to Emy and Analia today?”
My chest tightens unbearably. “Barely.”
“I won’t stay long, then.” He wolfs down his white hots and attacks the macaroni salad. “You can chat all night.”
“It’s not the same without the group. I keep clicking on the icon instinctively and then remember I can’t see what everyone’s posting.”
“Maybe you can meet up with them in person now.”
“It’s not that simple! If they want to meet me, too, why don’t they ever suggest it?”
“Maybe they’re thinking the same thing.”
“Well, I don’t want to be the reason my friendships get awkward.
” It could mess up our dynamic, but I don’t know how to explain that to Pike, who doesn’t have online friends.
The thought gnaws at me, but so does something else.
I pivot to the elephant in the room. “Why won’t you make a public statement? ”
I wish I weren’t looking at him. Then I wouldn’t see the grimace that twists his lips.
“It’s going to make it worse.”
“What about a quick post on social media?”
He puts down his fork. “I’m trying to protect you. Engaging with this kind of thing just gives people more to talk about. It’s already embarrassing enough, and I don’t want it to blow up more. Trust me when I say it’s better to move on with our lives and ignore them.”
My nausea from earlier returns. Embarrassing. Right. He’s not the one with his deepest insecurities plastered across the internet for strangers to dissect, and he’s certainly not the one whose life has been turned into a spectacle.
The stool squeaks as Pike gets up. His arms ease around me from behind. “This will pass.”
I swivel to face him. “Why doesn’t all this bother you?”
“Of course it bothers me.”
“Then why won’t you admit that?”
“I don’t need random people online to validate my feelings.” He doesn’t say it, but it feels implied. He’s not me.
“Not all of us have the luxury of an in-person support system.”
The amber specks in his gaze catch the light as his expression softens. “I get that. I don’t have anyone besides you either.”
“Have you even tried?” I place a hand on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat, hoping it’ll calm me.
“You have a supportive roommate who keeps inviting you to meet his disabled friends, and a childhood friend who’ll drive an hour out of his way to pick you up.
And your mom. She’s made a lot of mistakes and has even more to learn, but maybe she could be capable of it if you talked to her earnestly.
She seems interested in your life. Your health. ”
“My mom,” he scoffs. “Please don’t make assumptions about my relationships.”
“Is it an assumption to say you’re not open with anyone?”
Hurt flashes across his face. “I’m open with you.”
“Are you? Because that stuff online? That’s one hundred percent me. I’m open about everything. You’ve seen me at my absolute worst. Throwing up naked on the bathroom floor. Meanwhile you coast along with whatever as long as you can keep up your happy image.”
“How am I coasting along? I went after those bastards!”
“Yeah, in private.” I cross my arms. “But in public, you’re receiving condolences for a so-called ‘crazy’ girlfriend. You’d rather let that slide than admit you have depressive thoughts.”
His lips flatten into a line. “I thought you, of all people, would understand. Your mom’s ableist too.”
“The difference between my mom and yours is that I’ve told my mom multiple times that what she says hurts me, and she doesn’t change. You haven’t even tried having that conversation.”
“I shouldn’t have to out myself to anyone.”
“No, Pike, you shouldn’t. But you should ask yourself why you had to pretend to be in a relationship to avoid being honest with your mom. Because if you don’t want to keep feeling ambushed by her, you’ll eventually have to say something.”
“You were the one who pretended to be my girlfriend. You messaged my mom.”
“Sure,” I say. “Blame everything on me. The whole world already does.”
“That’s not what I meant.” He grabs his cane, and for a second, I think he’s going to leave.
“Wait, Pike—”
“You want me to be more open? I can do that. I’m not okay about a lot of things, Skylar. This relationship came out of nowhere. I have zero energy anymore. I’m entirely spooned out all the time. My pain has increased tenfold,” he says, and it feels like a slap in the face.
I wanted him to be upset, but I didn’t expect it to be about us.
“I barely sleep. I skip PT so we can hang out together because your stairs kill me. Even without the media attention, it’s been a lot to juggle.
” He pushes a hand through his hair, fingers gripping briefly, before dragging it down his face.
“I didn’t know this would all be so much work.
Please cut me some slack for trying to stay positive amidst all that. I’m just so fucking tired.”
“Oh,” I whisper as something inside me breaks. “I didn’t know it’s been so bad for you. I wish you would’ve said something sooner.”
Because this is exactly why I didn’t want to be in a relationship in the first place.
“Skylar.” He looks up at the ceiling with clear exasperation. “That came out wrong.”
“It’s okay. We only promised to take this one day at a time. In the end, this is all probably too much for me as well.”
“Wait.” A note of desperation leaks into his voice. “What are you saying?”
I push to my feet. What am I saying? “It’s clearly not working.”
I run into the living room so he won’t see me cry. His cane clunks erratically as he rushes after me, and I choke back another sob. He has pain walking, and I just made him rush.
Our relationship causes him pain.
His arm snags around my waist, gentle but firm. Pulling me back toward his large body until I’m pressed completely against him. He always knows exactly how to touch me. Pike’s presence alone can calm me down.
But not now. Not when he’s just admitted how bad things are for him.
“I said the wrong thing,” he murmurs into my hair. “I’m sorry.”
“You said what you were really thinking. I’m sorry you didn’t feel safe saying it sooner.”
“No! Argh.” He tilts my chin up. “Look at me, please.”
But it hurts even more to see the misery on Pike’s face. I wish more than anything that I could take it away and rewind the last few minutes.
“I know you feel like everything’s spiraling out of control,” he says. “It’ll feel that way for a while, but it’ll be okay. You don’t have to be in control all the time.” He thumbs away a tear. “I’ve got you.”
I sniff. “But you don’t.”
Pike’s face shutters, but how can I let him be there for me when I’m the reason he’s miserable?
“Skylar, please don’t do this. Relationships are new to me, so I have a steep learning curve. I know I don’t do everything right, but I’m working on it.” His voice breaks, sending an arrow straight through my chest. “I’ll get there if you just give me a chance.”
His words are a tiny stitch in the gaping hole that is my heart. They’re sweet, but they can’t undo what he admitted. I don’t want to be the reason he’s spooned out. I want him to be happy. Truly happy, not just pretending to be.
“I’m sorry,” I choke out. “It’s better if it ends here.”
He’ll understand eventually. Everyone’s rooting for us to break up anyway.
“I guess I was hoping you’d tell me I’m at least doing something right.”
“It’s not that,” I say. “I…I can’t give up my friends for you.”
“I would never ask you to.”
“All the time we spent together made me miss out on time with them. I already lost my group. If I don’t change my priorities, I’m going to lose them as well.”
“I said I’d leave early so you could talk to them, but okay.” He lets go of me. Backs away. “You do you, sweetheart.”
“I will.”
“Great.”
My heart splits in two.
He turns on his way out. “An observation. You judge me for not sharing everything, but it’s easier for you when you never have to face your friends in person.
Well, let me tell you something. It’s scarier to be open with people you see every day.
Even more so to depend on them. But you know that already, don’t you? You’re just as afraid as I am.”
“I stay in control of things so they can’t wreck me,” I call after him, then crumple in on myself.
Like this just did.