Micah never left my room last night. His arms never fell from around me. He never pushed me to talk beyond what I had confessed to him. And in return, I never asked him to leave my bed.
When the sun set, I didn’t even have to tell him to turn on the lights, he just flipped on the lamp from the nightstand. As tired as I was from crying, I still barely slept. To say the words aloud for the first time brought everything back to the surface in a fresh new wound, making the few times when I did manage to doze off, fitful and brief.
I felt Micah stirring a while ago, but he’s yet to speak. Lying in his arms, I stare out the windows and finally break the silence.
“There are five hundred and eighty-two slips, but there’s only five hundred and nineteen filled.”
Micah props up on to his elbow and looks down at me. “What are you talking about?”
Keeping my eyes fixed on the water down below, I tell him, “The marina. There’s only five hundred and nineteen boats.”
When I shift to my back, Micah is looking out the window. “Is that what you do all night? Count boats?”
“It helps pass the time.”
In the heaviness of the room, he drops his attention to me and attempts to cut through it when he grins, teasing, “And how many times have you gone cross-eyed?”
I smile, thankful for his effort at levity. God knows I need it right now. “How many days have I lived here?”
“You’re going to kill your eyes, you know that?”
Somehow words fail the both of us, leaving behind a foreign intensity that hangs overhead. Neither one of us looks away, and I watch as his smile fades along with mine. Seconds that mimic minutes tick by, and in the stillness of the room, my breathing sounds louder than it should. Micah’s hand moves to my forehead and slowly pushes back a few strands of unruly hair. It’s a simple touch, but nothing about it feels simplistic.
It’s too soft, too tender.
“I feel like I should say something.”
“I don’t want you to,” I respond, worrying that he will bring up what I told him yesterday, so I divert. “I’m really tired.”
He gives me an understanding nod that tells me he won’t push. I shift back to my side, and he does too, curling around me from behind, reminding me with his actions that he meant what he said yesterday—that I’m not alone. And with the rising of the sun, I’m finally able to get some sleep for a few hours before movement rouses me.
Micah gets out of the bed, and I turn to watch him. “I was trying not to wake you.”
“It’s okay,” I murmur, my voice groggy.
“I need to get cleaned up; I have a midterm I have to get to. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
I give him a nod, and he slips out of my room. When I check my phone, I find a voice mail from my mom waiting for me, so I call her back.
“Happy birthday,” is the first thing she says when she answers.
“Thanks, Mom.”
“I can’t believe this is the first birthday of yours we haven’t spent together. I miss you.”
“I miss you, too.”
“So, what are you doing to celebrate?”
“I’m taking a midterm later today,” I tease.
“Very funny.”
We continue to chitchat for a few minutes before saying our goodbyes. After what happened yesterday, I’m so far from in the mood to celebrate anything, let alone my birthday. I try not to think about my last birthday or the trip to the Bahamas my mother gave to me and Kason. They are memories beyond beautiful, to reflect on them would only twist the knife deeper into my heart of loss. So, I turn back to the boats and do what I do best. I count until I nod off.
When Micah returns, I’m still in bed, having not moved this whole time. Now that my secret is out, I’m relieved that I don’t have to hide the fact that I can only sleep during the day. I’m able to catch another nap before the alarm on my phone sounds. With a groan, I silence it and sit up to find Micah studying on the couch by the windows.
“What’s the alarm for?”
“It’s my turn now. I have a midterm at seven thirty.”
“I can take you,” he offers, even though he doesn’t have a Thursday night class.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
I swing my legs over the edge of the bed. “Treat me differently.”
“I’m not. I need to go there anyway to get a couple of things from the library I forgot to pick up when I was there earlier.”
He’s a liar, but I refuse to draw any more attention to this situation, so I shrug. “Fine,” is all I offer as I get out of bed and grab some clothes from the closet.
Micah gathers his books. “I’ll wait for you in the living room.”
After he closes the door behind him, I take a quick shower and start getting ready. After dabbing a little powder beneath my eyes, which are still swollen from all the tears I cried yesterday, I grab my backpack but stop short of opening the door when I faintly hear Trent and Micah talking from across the condo.
I press my ear to the door in time to hear Trent ask, “What was that freak-out all about?”
I hold on to my breath, worrying about what Micah is going to say.
“She’s dealing with a lot of shit right now. Just give her time. She’ll be fine.”
His response comes as a relief.
“What’s going on with you two?”
“What do you mean?”
“Dude, you’ve spent the whole day locked away in her room. Did you spend the night with her, too?”
“What the fuck, Mom? You keeping tabs on me now?” Micah says with jest in his tone.
“Whatever, man,” Trent laughs. “Just admit that you’ve had a hard-on for that girl since junior year.”
“Oh my god,” I mutter beneath my breath before opening up the door, because I need them to stop talking about me, like, right now.
“She emerges,” Trent announces jokingly when I walk into the room.
Slighted with embarrassment, I look over to Micah, who shows no sign of unease as he asks, “You ready?”
“Yeah.”
“You got a package in the mail today,” Trent tells me before we head out. “It’s on the bar top.”
When I pick up the small box, I see my mother’s name on the return address and don’t have to open it to know what it is. I tuck it inside my bag, and the two of us head down to his truck.
After finding a parking spot on campus, I agree to meet him outside the library after my exam before we part ways. I arrive to class a few minutes early and decide to go ahead and open the gift my mother sent me. Using the tip of my pen, I jab through the tape and open the box to find a small wrapped package. I peel back the paper and lift the lid that exposes a simple, delicate bangle engraved with, “Always my daughter, now too, my friend,” on the thin metal band.
I smile sadly, missing her daily presence in my life. Although we talk all the time, it isn’t the same as having her with me. After I slip the bracelet on, I read the small note:
“Happy birthday, beautiful girl. You’re the best thing God ever gave me, and for that, you’ll always be my favorite.”
With only a couple of minutes remaining before the test, I send her a quick text.
Me: Thank you for the bracelet. It’s perfect. I love you and miss you. You’re my favorite, too.
An hour later, the exam is done, and I can only hope I did well because I need to pull my grade up in that class. I walk across campus to the library and find Micah sitting outside on a bench, waiting for me.
“How’d it go?”
“Good . . . I think.”
On the drive back to The Grove, he looks over and notices the bangle. “Where’d you get that?”
“My mom. It’s what was in the package,” I tell him, running my fingers over the engraved words.
“What’s it for?”
“Just a little birthday gift.”
His head turns to me for a moment before focusing back on the road. “It’s your birthday?”
“Yeah.”
“When? Today?”
I nod.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I haven’t really been in the mood to celebrate.”
Pulling up to a red light, he gives me a somber look, and when it changes to green, he turns left instead of right.
“Where are we going?”
“Out to dinner.”
“Micah, I’m serious. I don’t want to celebrate.”
He laughs under his breath with a subtle shake of his head. “Don’t be so vain. It’s late, and I’m hungry.”
I give him a friendly jab to the ribs with my fingers.
“I’m serious, Guppy.”
“Whatever,” I respond, giving in because to argue with him would only draw more attention my way. “And I’m not vain.”
He laughs. “If you say so.”
He takes me out to Farinelli 1937, and we sit outside under the stars that are beginning to illuminate.
“This is nice for someone who’s just hungry and wants a bite to eat,” I pester.
“Relax. It’s pizza.”
His defense is poor. Pizza, sure, but this is no Domino’s. He lets me make the selection for us to share, but he’s the one who orders us the tiramisu, claiming he has a sweet tooth, but I know better. Even though he never mentions my birthday, that doesn’t stop me from thanking him when we leave an hour and a half later.
It’s amazing how, in just an evening, Micah’s able to shift my mood as we both ignore that just yesterday I had a monumental breakdown.
When we get back to the condo, it’s almost ten o’clock, and I can already hear the music from outside in the hall. Micah opens the door, and the place is filled with people. It’s no news that Thursday nights are party nights for college goers, but never has the party been brought here—until now.
“Ady!” Kate squeals from across the room. “Where have you been?” She finally reaches me and pulls me into a hug, splashing a little beer out of her red cup and onto my shoulder.
I turn, and through the chaos, I see a group of guys high-fiving Micah as Kate drags me deeper into the room. My nerves begin to alarm with each person that bumps elbows with me. With everyone drinking and the loud music, my heart begins racing as all the parallels lead me back to the last party I ever went to—the one that took a cleaver to my world.
“Look who decided to show up,” Trent announces, holding out a cup for me.
“I’m good,” I tell him, declining the drink.
“You in recovery now?” he teases and then turns to Kate. “I should tell you about the first time I got this girl drunk. It was hysterical.”
Another person bumps into me, and in a flash of fear, I jump around to make sure it isn’t Liam.
“Come on,” Kate says, turning me back around and shoving the cup in my hand. “You totally need to have some fun.”
Looking into the cup, all I see is the poison that stole my life from me. I’m suffocating, and I swear the walls are closing in around me. My heart starts beating too fast and too hard. It reverberates in my head, causing the room to spin in a disarray of madness.
I panic.
“I’ll be right back,” I stutter as I fumble through the people as fast as I can, dropping the cup and its contents onto the floor as I flee to my room. Once inside, I lock the door behind me and slowly back up as I fight to catch a decent breath. But it immediately strangles when the doorknob starts to rattle followed by a loud knock.
“Go away!” I yell, terrified there’s another monster like Liam on the other side.
Another knock, another explosion of fear.
“Ady.” His voice is muffled by all the noise, but it cuts through enough for me to hear. “Ady, open the door.”
I hesitate, even though it’s only Micah, but when he calls my name again, I move. Inching closer to the door, my fingers tremble as I disengage the lock.
He opens it before I can, and I take a few steps back, startling slightly when he comes in. Micah quickly closes the door behind him. “Are you okay?”
Seeing his face drenched in worry, I release a heavy sigh as I back-step over to the couch and drop down. He stays in place, and I can tell he’s nervous to come over to me.
“I’m sorry,” I breathe, embarrassed that I’m drawing so much attention from him.
“No,” he refutes. “I’m sorry. I had no idea Trent would be throwing a party tonight.”
“It’s fine. Really.”
“You’re shaking, Ady. It’s clearly not fine. I can shut it down if you need—”
“Don’t do that,” I tell him and then hang my head down into my hands.
“Hey.” His tone is gentle as he kneels in front of me, and when I look up, I give him a defeated shrug. “Come on,” he says, taking my hand in his and pulling me to my feet. “Let’s get out of here.”
He opens the door, tucks me under his arm, and gets us quickly out of the condo. When we’re back in his truck, he drives us to a deserted beach that’s only a few minutes away. He doesn’t say anything as he parks and hops out. We converge at the front of the truck, and he takes my hand again as he leads me through the scattered palm trees and down to the water. I find a spot to sit and instead of him joining me at my side, he settles himself behind me before pulling me between his legs. Leaning my back against his chest, he drapes his arms lazily over my shoulders as I rest my head against him and stare out into the water.
The waves crash onto the shore, bringing a light sea breeze with each one that comes. I watch the water ebb and flow, and it has me wondering if we’re doing the same. As comfortable as I am with Micah, there’s an unease that has developed between us. It’s moments like this where the lines of our friendship are starting to blur. We shouldn’t be this quiet, this close, this timid. This isn’t who we are. But maybe I’m over analyzing this. Maybe he thinks this is what I need. Maybe he’s just trying to be a good friend.
“Does that happen a lot?” he questions, pulling me away from my thoughts.
“What do you mean?”
“What happened back there.”
My hands fidget nervously because I don’t know how to talk to anyone about any of this. I’ve never had to because no one has ever pushed me enough to break through these walls I’ve built. But there’s no caution when it comes to Micah, and there’s something about him that makes me feel safe. His certitude and forwardness with me feels more like a lifeline to hope than anything else, so as much as I don’t want to talk about this, I’d be foolish not to grab on to what he’s offering.
“I panic when there’s a lot of people around.” I keep my eyes cast over the water as I say the words. It’s rippled in silver from the glow of the moon.
“Can I ask you something?”
I waver for a moment, and then nod.
“You don’t have to answer, but . . . why didn’t you tell anyone?”
I find a little bit of courage in the fact that I’m not looking at him, and admit, “Because I was scared.”
“Of what?”
“A lot of things.”
“Will you help me understand?”
I’m not ready to be that vulnerable, though. To admit to him all the responsibility I hold, how dirty I feel, how disgusting I am.
“I don’t think I can.”
He then rests his cheek against the side of my head. “But you know who he is, right?”
I nod.
“You can’t let him get away with this.”
“He already has.” His arms circle around me more. “It’s done, and there’s nothing I could do or say that would prove what he did. I can’t even tell you what happened because I have no memory of it.”
Silence spans between us as the beating of his heart patters against my back. Eventually, I close my eyes, relaxing into him slightly.
“I’m worried about you.”
“I don’t want you to be.”
“You don’t get to control that,” he says softly. “Be honest with me. Do you feel like you’re getting better?”
My throat tightens with emotion, making my voice strain when I shake my head and answer, “I feel like everything’s getting worse.”
“Have you thought about getting some kind of help? Talking to someone?”
“My mom found a psychologist when I first moved here. I promised her I would make an appointment when I was ready.”
“I don’t want this to come across the wrong way, but I don’t think you’re ever going to be ready. You just have to do it.”
“It isn’t that easy.”
He then takes my shoulders and angles me to face him before saying, “No one said it would be. But you said it yourself, it’s only getting worse.”
Anguish burns behind my eyes, and I swallow thickly when he pushes. “You need to call and make an appointment.”
“I don’t—”
“I know you don’t want to. But I’m asking you to do it anyway. Promise me you will.”
I shake my head. What he’s asking of me is too scary and too daunting, but he doesn’t relent. “I’ll do whatever I can to help you. I’ll make the call for you if you want. I’ll go with you, even. Just promise me that you’ll get some sort of help, because I can’t watch you suffer like this.”
“I’m scared.”
“I know you are.”
Closing my eyes, I lean my head against him, and he runs his hand up and down the length of my back, urging again, “Tell me you’ll go.”
As much as I want to hide from all this, to make it go away and disappear, I know I’ll never win. I’ve been hiding for months and nothing is better, nothing is easier. And he’s right . . . I don’t want to suffer anymore.
So, with the strength of his hands on me, I take a deep breath. “Okay . . . I promise.”