16. Chapter 16
Depression made for a deep sleep. I woke up face-down on a damp pillow. With a groan, I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling. Sunlight filled the room. I blinked away chunks of sleep as my brain played catch-up.
OH SHIT!
I sprang up and looked over at Summoner stretched out on the opposite side of the bed. Ankles crossed, he sat against a pile of my pillows. A Pikachu plush rested under one arm. Glasses on, he read a battered and worn paperback. A very strange sight.
“She wakes. Morning Poppy.” Smiling, he placed his book in his lap.
“… Uh…morning,” I ran a hand over my face.
“Just to get it out of the way. Yes, you drool and snore.”
Embarrassment simmered in my gut.
“Didn’t bother me,” he shrugged. Summoner took off his glasses and hung them off the collar of his shirt. “Most importantly, how are you feeling, Poppy?”
I stared at the circle pattern on my blanket. “Not great,” I mumbled. “My mouth feels dry.”
Summoner nodded at my non-answer. “Fair enough. Would you like some coffee? I made some.”
“What time is it?” I asked.
“Almost eleven.”
I blanched at the fact that Summoner had been awake for hours unattended in my apartment.
I scrambled out of bed and followed him into the kitchen.
My eyes went wide as I sat at my counter.
Summoner had cleaned while I slept. My bouquet sat proudly on the cleaned counter.
My dishes were washed and put away, my counters scrubbed, my mail picked up and sorted.
“Uhhh…”
“I wake up early.” He placed a steaming mug of coffee in front of me. “Heavy cream, heavy sugar?” he joked.
I took a slow sip and sighed as the warmth soothed my dry throat.
“…So, now that you have your coffee, can we talk?”
I winced. The notion of talking about things stung like an unexpected slap. I’d much prefer to pretend as if yesterday never happened.
“Do we have to?”
He leaned his hip against the counter. “Yes.”
I sighed into my coffee, “…I…I guess I just stopped handling things well. I’m sorry I usually have a better handle on things. I-”
“Poppy.” His harsh tone interrupted me. “Yesterday was more than not handling things well. Yesterday was a full-blown breakdown. And that’s okay. Those of us who struggle with our mental health can’t expect every day to be sunshine and roses.”
I clenched my jaw. “It would be easier, though.”
“Why?”
“Because I can’t be there for everyone else if I’m being stupid.”
Summoner blinked. “Why do you think you’re being stupid?”
“Because I am.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Yes, it is! My feelings are stupid!” My voice cracked as tears started running down my face. “If I could just push through, everything would be fine. Why can’t I just push through?” I sat down my mug and buried my face in my hands.
“Oh, sweetheart.” Summoner’s voice came closer, and his arms wrapped around my shoulders. “Your feelings are valid and not at all stupid. You wonderful girl.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “…You say that, but you don’t mean it.”
“Why would I lie to you?”
“…Your son had me pegged! Just like my friends and everyone else in the world. I’m a useless nothing!”
Summoner’s arms dropped away, and I looked up from my hands to watch him slump down on the barstool beside me. Disgust was etched into the lines on his face. He let out a harsh breath through his nose, his nostrils flaring.
“Those voices—yours, other peoples’, my dumbass son included—are wrong.
So fucking wrong. I know your mind isn’t in the place to see it, so I’m going to tell you.
I’m going to tell you until I’m blue in the face and then I’ll tell you some more.
You’re not nothing, Poppy. You’re amazing. You’re wonderful.”
The compliments made me cringe, a visceral reaction.
“I know it’s hard to hear, but I’m stating facts. I never would have let you into my life if you weren’t. Think about it, Poppy. You found a needle in a haystack. A musical unicorn in a coffee shop. You’d have to be something special to do that.”
I sniffled. “I had sex with him, too.”
He snorted. “That too. But let’s stick to the topic at hand. You’re wonderful, Poppy. I’m sorry you’re going through a hard time right now, and I know you can’t see it, but you are.”
I ran my hand over my tear-stained face. “You must be going blind in your old age because you’re the only person who thinks that.”
“Digs at my age. Very unfair, Poppy.”
“Well, your family doesn’t think I’m wonderful. My friends don’t think I’m wonderful, either.”
“You know that’s not true, because why would you call them your friends?”
“Loneliness is a hella drug. You wouldn’t understand.”
“Ah, of course, the rockstar who disappeared wouldn’t understand.” Bitterness and awe colored his tone. His profile stiffened, and he stared off into the distance.
“My story is one often guessed at, but never correctly told…I was on top of the world. I had accomplished things I could only imagine, yet I was empty.”
“Empty?” My voice bounced off the walls, echoing softly.
“Yes, empty. I had gotten through the lows before. But this time was different. My marriage had ended. My parents were dead. Everywhere I looked, someone wanted something from me. A handout. A hand up. The days of just sitting in the bar and having a pint were a fuckin’ memory.
Walking out the front door became a chore.
Just the thought made me sick. I had it all, but I was alone. So alone.”
His eyes glazed over, as if he was disconnected from his present self and reliving the pain all over again.
“…By that point, even performing filled me with dread. I always powered through, but I couldn’t anymore.
I was tired. I’d thought about killing myself so many times.
Toyed with the idea of laying in front of a train, hopping off a bridge.
Nothing thought out. I just wanted to do something, anything to make the pain stop.
This day was different, but the same. We were on tour, Amsterdam, I think…
I don’t remember much except how soft the carpet was in my hotel room.
I chased a bottle of sleeping pills with rum and sliced open my wrists.
They found me on the floor. I was dying and the only part of it I can remember is the carpet. Soft and cream colored…”
Listening felt like a relentless attack on my heart, with each insight delivering another painful blow. His hurt mirrored mine.
“I was floating. I was free. It was hushed up, and instead of facing what I’d done, I ran away.” He turned to me.
I noticed the tiny tremble in his hand as he reached up and cupped my cheek. His eyes softened when our gazes met. The mystery of Summoner was nothing sordid. An anxious and depressed man who ran away from it all. He was a legend in more ways than one, yet he was so damned human.
“…I understand it so well, Poppy. The hurt. The pain. The confusion. Everything you feel, I have felt and still feel, too. I just want to support you. I want to be here for you.”
I closed my eyes for a moment. The weight of his hand settled against my cheek.
“What about your family?” I asked.
“I know it doesn’t seem like it, but they mean well.”
“No, it doesn’t seem like it. It seems like your whole family hates me.”
Everyone hates me.
Summoner sighed. “They are overprotective. I was a very fragile man for a very long time. They have every right to be overprotective.”
“Overprotectiveness in this case is hurtful.” I peeked at him.
He nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry Poppy. I’m so sorry. Let me answer to my family. Can you forget about them for now and focus on you?”
“…Okay.”
“Great. Do you think it might be time for a med adjustment?”
“Maybe.” I shrugged.
“Okay, it seems like they were working well for a while. Can you call the after-hours line and see if you can get an appointment?”
I nodded and held my disgust inside. Summoner was right that I needed my meds adjusted, but I hated visiting the psychiatrist. That was a battle for another day. He ran his thumb across my cheek before pulling away.
“Are you a morning meds taker or evening meds taker?” he asked.
“Morning. It’s just easier for me.”
Summoner grabbed the bottle of Zoloft from beside the coffee pot. He handed me a pill, and I chased it with a swallow of coffee. I sat down my cup as Summoner leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to my temple.
“I think you should get a bath. You haven’t had the chance to clean up, and a warm relaxing bath is a great and easy form of self-care.”
He was right. I stood up and chugged more coffee. Before heading to the bathroom, I whispered, “Thank you for being here and talking to me.”
As the tub filled, I sat on the toilet lid.
Sighing, I dialed the emergency line for my psychiatrist’s office.
Shame and stabbing feelings of defeat stirred in my stomach.
I hated admitting I was “in crisis.” My jaw was weighed down as I struggled to communicate my current emotional state, along with my name and phone number, to the answering machine.
The moment I ended the call, I closed my eyes and let out a heavy groan.
Poppy is a failure.
I groaned again and looked up to see Summoner leaning against the bathroom door. He had a towel over his shoulder and was doing his best (failing) at looking nonchalant.
“Are you checking to make sure I call?” I raised my eyebrows.
“Not really. Maybe. I know how hard it is to deal with those assholes.”
“Hard to deal with, yes, but necessary.”
“Very much so.”
I stripped out of my pajamas. With my ice-skating panda shorts and my coffee cup tank top discarded on the tile, I turned off the tap and sank into the steaming water.
I let out a small hum as the warmth sank into my bones.
Grunting, Summoner slid onto the floor beside the tub.
He rested his back against the wall for support and smiled at me.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Alright, I guess. Embarrassed, mostly.”
“Don’t be embarrassed, sweetheart. Every day can’t be great. Easier said than done, but onwards and upwards.”