7. Kendra
Kendra
Ineed to get the hell out of here.
It’s hard enough for me to be at hospitals, but this was too much. I couldn’t stand in that room a second longer. And when the doctor came in smiling and happily confirmed that Eli has a daughter—I just couldn’t be there watching it all snap firmly into place.
He doesn’t need me there. Sutton, Lainey, and Rem can handle it. Then his mom and sisters will swoop in, and he will have plenty of support. I am on the periphery, like I’m used to being, and it’s where I will stay.
I’m not his friend. I am close to his friends because they are mine too, but that does not mean I need to get close to him.
It’s a blur getting back home to the cabin, a drive that was robotic and numb, automatic motions I made to get here that I don’t really remember.
I fumble with the lock on my side door, go into the kitchen, and slip off my shoes.
My phone alarm blasts, startling me, reminding me it’s time to take my nightly meds.
Shit.
I make my way up to my room, go to my bathroom, open my very tidy medicine cabinet, and take all my pills—which are also extensively organized.
Color coded, sorted by days of the week, premade little squares that I set up in advance.
A ritual that makes me feel like I have some kind of say over any of this.
I gulp down the water from the waiting cup on the counter, wash my hands, and look up to the mirror. My eyes shine with unshed tears and my bottom lip starts to tremble. I can’t hold it in any longer.
Crack. Crack. Crack.
I am pretty sure that is my heart, shattering all over my bathroom floor as I collapse in a mess of tears and emotions. My phone is pinging with texts, probably from the girls, but I ignore it. I can’t do anything but lay here and try to remember how to breathe.