Driving Me Mad (21 page)

As I hear the shower turn
off, I get out of bed to take my medication. That’s when I realize
something. If it’s hard to see him like this, what will it feel
like if things get worse for him? I don’t want to think about it.
Both for selfish reasons and for Trace.

I grab my tote so once he’s
done, I can take my own shower. Trace is taking his sweet time,
though. Five minutes later, he finally walks out of the bathroom
with a towel wrapped around his waist. He sees me with my bag and
says, “You can go ahead.”

Off to the shower I go. I’m
not sure what, if anything, had been planned for us to do today.
Trace might not feel like doing anything at all, which is fine. My
mind wanders to what I’ll cook us for breakfast. He recently went
to the grocery store, so the kitchen should be stocked. Maybe I’ll
fix French toast. I can’t remember the last time I had that, and it
suddenly sounds really, really good.

When I finish in the bathroom
and open the door, I’m assaulted by the aroma of bacon. Trace is
cooking? That has to be a good sign. Otherwise, why bother,
especially when I was planning to cook for us. He’s standing in
front of the stove in jeans and a T-shirt, scrambling eggs. The
toaster pops with fresh toast, and the bacon has already been
placed on a plate. A timer goes off, and he pulls out a pan of
biscuits from the oven.

“Smells good,” I tell him as
I grab a pair of plates, set them by the stove, and then begin
fixing us something to drink.

“Better be hungry after I’ve
slaved at this stove all morning,” he jokes with an easy smile.

I return his smile, happy
that he seems happy. “No one asked you to go all out on a five-star
meal.”

“But what kind of boyfriend
would I be if I didn’t make breakfast for my girlfriend?”

“An okay one.”

Trace laughs as he places
food on our plates. I grab our drinks and take a seat at the table.
A moment later, a plate is set in front of me and Trace takes his
seat. I thank him and we’re quiet the first few seconds of
eating.

“So,” Trace begins. “Vegas,
huh?”

“Yeah, Bec picked that to
bribe me and make sure I agreed to go somewhere for spring break.
She’s using you to further bribe me. You don’t have to go, though.
I already told her I would go either way. Looks like I’ll have
spring break plans after all.”

“Who all is going?”

“Just me and her. Her
boyfriend agreed to go to Florida with his friends before they
started dating.”

Trace nods. “Do you want me
to go?”

I shrug and say, “I wouldn’t
mind it if you went, but you don’t have to go unless you want to.
Rebecca and I will be fine and have fun either way.” I don’t want
to make him feel as if I’ll be disappointed if he says no. Sure, I
probably will be a little bit, but it’s no big deal if he doesn’t
want to go. Plus, he did just take me to Bryson City for the
weekend. “However, we’ll probably need to know soon, so she can
book the hotel and plane tickets.”

“Okay. I’ll let you know for
sure Monday then.”

I nod. “What’s on the agenda
for today?”

“I was thinking we could go
see a movie or something to get out of the house. Want to do
that?”

“Yeah. It’s been a while
since I’ve been to the movies.”

He seems back to normal. For
a moment, I wonder if he’s putting on a show for my benefit. Could
he really be like this after getting no sleep? But then again, this
is Trace and we have this whole complete honesty, two-way street
going here. He wouldn’t put on a show for me, right? He most
certainly doesn’t have to.

No, Trace definitely wouldn’t
do that.

***

S
he was worried
about me this morning.

She woke up without any
anxiety overwhelming her, and then I had to make her worry about
me. It’s why I decided to do what I usually try to do—hide it. I
got up, showered, fixed breakfast, and took her to the movies. I’m
already bone-tired, and hiding the fact that the only thing I want
is to lie in my recliner and do nothing all day is even more
exhausting. In the moments when we’ve been here at my house and
it’s been overwhelming, I decide we both need a distraction. So, I
kiss her neck and find my break, peace, and relief with sex.

I feel a bit guilty because I
am deceiving her, but she’s finally getting a break. Why would I
want to tarnish that because of the way I’m feeling? Not to
mention, I kind of think people unintentionally feed off of each
other. Think about it. Isn’t it hard to stay happy and upbeat when
you’re around someone who is either not feeling well or is
negative? I don’t want to let my negative energy bring her down
when she’s on the up.

My hand lazily rubs up and
down her back. I must’ve wore her out today for her to take a nap.
We’re lying naked in my bed, and we had been talking about nothing
in particular when she dozed off, her head on my shoulder. I guess
I need to decide if I’m going to Vegas with her and Rebecca. I’m
glad Rebecca’s boyfriend isn’t going since I’ve been able to
confirm he is the one and same Dustin who comes in for counseling
on occasion.

On the one hand, I want to
go. I’ve never been to Vegas, and knowing that Brittany is already
expecting some anxiety due to the craziness of the city, I want to
be there as support, if needed. On the other hand, who knows if I’m
going to feel like going to Vegas. Would she be upset if I don’t
go? Damn, I’m not sure what I want to do. Absentmindedly, I grip
the back of my neck. To go or to not go? That is my loaded
question. I sigh.

“Babe,” Brittany murmurs,
cuddling closer to me. “Your thinking is disrupting my sleep.”

I laugh. “You shouldn’t be
sleeping anyway.”

“Not without you.” She lifts
her head, her eyes squinting a little as she looks me over. “Aren’t
you tired?”

“Not really,” I lie as I keep
rubbing her back. I don’t think there is a word that adequately
describes how tired I am. The only thing I’m hoping for at this
point is that my body decides it’s had enough and crashes.
Obviously, mentally exhausting myself by leaving the house and
hiding how I’m feeling in combination with physically exhausting
myself with sex isn’t doing the trick.

“What can I do to help?” she
whispers.

“Nothing that you aren’t
already doing, Britt.”

“Are you sure? I mean,” she
hesitates, “if you think being alone would help, you can ask me to
leave. I would understand.”

My eyebrows pull together.
What is she talking about? “You aren’t the reason why I can’t
sleep, and nothing you’re doing or not doing is making it more
difficult.” Tired of talking, I kiss her forehead. “Let’s try to
get some sleep.” I close my eyes and hope she follows.

“You’re hungry.” She pokes my
stomach when it growls.

“I thought you wanted me to
sleep?” I crack my eyes open.

“I want that too. Maybe we
should stuff you full of turkey. Turkey makes people sleepy,
right?”

My grin is real. “You want me
to cook a turkey like it’s Thanksgiving in hopes I’ll eat a lot and
it’ll knock me out?”

“It’s just an idea,” she
laughs. “But for real, do you want me to cook dinner?”

Despite my stomach sounding
like a dying whale, I don’t feel hungry. That’s not an answer
she’ll want to hear, though. “What are you going to cook?”

“Whatever I find in the
fridge that looks good, unless you have a request.”

“No requests.”

She nods, smacks a loud kiss
to my cheek with a grin, and slips out of bed. I watch her pull on
her clothes and then she leaves the room. I’d think that being
alone for a little while would be a blessing and would feel good,
but I miss her presence the moment she’s out of view. It’s easier
to pretend depression doesn’t exist when she’s around and I’m
putting on a show for her.

She depends on the Trace who
is strong, stable, and there for her. That’s the Trace I want to
be. Not this version who is struggling so much. I need to find a
balance because I know I can’t hide it forever. It’s not good for
me, for Brittany, or for our relationship. All the reminder I need
is to remember what happened with my failed marriage. Faith
cheating was simply the last straw; not the cause. We had problems
prior to that, which were leading us down the path to divorce.

Brittany walks back into the
room with my phone buzzing in her hand. “Someone is calling you.”
She tosses it to me before leaving to continue cooking, I
assume.

A quick glance at the number,
and I don’t recognize it. It’s tempting not to answer it. I do
though.

“Hello?”

“Trace? It’s Faith.”

“Oh.” Why is she calling me?
It’s odd that she is, since I was just thinking about her.

“I know it’s a surprise, but
I wouldn’t call if it wasn’t important.”

“What is it then?” The sooner
we can hang up, the better.

“I’m moving, and where I’m
going, I can’t take Lily.” Lily was our golden retriever. “I
figured I’d see if you wanted her before I try to make other
arrangements. If you wanted her, I could drop her off whenever, or
you could come get her.”

“I live near Charlotte now,”
I interrupt.

“Oh. Well, I could still make
a trip to give her to you. I just want to make sure she has a good
home, and I know you hated to leave her with me.”

Do I want Lily? Do I want to
have to see Faith to get her? “Why can’t you take her with you?” I
ask.

Faith is silent long enough
that I know she’s hesitating.

“I didn’t think that would be
a hard question.”

“It’s not; just an awkward
one. I’m moving in with my boyfriend and his daughter is allergic.
So, what do you say? Do you need to think about it?”

“You have no one else who
could take her?”

“No.”

It’s like the music from
Jeopardy
is playing while I think about it. “Fine. Yeah, I
wouldn’t mind having her.” She is a great dog.

“Fantastic. When can I bring
her to you? The sooner the better for me.”

“If you wanted to do it
tomorrow, that would work.”

I give her my address, and
find out if there’s anything I’ll need to buy before she comes, but
Faith is bringing everything. Once we hang up, I get out of bed and
get dressed. I smile when I walk into the kitchen.

“I thought you were cooking.”
She’s leaning against the counter by the oven, folding up an empty
pizza box.

Brittany smirks. “Last I
checked, you have to cook pizza to eat it. So, I am cooking.”

“And here I thought I was
getting a decent meal.” She only shrugs. I walk over to stand next
to her. “So, how do you feel about dogs?”

Her eyebrows pull together in
confusion. “They’re fun. My parents already had one when I was
born, but he died when I was ten. Why?”

“My phone call?” She nods.
“It was my ex-wife. She wants to give me our golden retriever
because she can’t care for her anymore. She’s bringing her
tomorrow.”

“What’s her name?” she
asks.

“Lily; I didn’t name
her.”

Brittany laughs. “Well, are
you excited?”

“Yeah. She was a good dog. I
missed her more than Faith, but I haven’t thought about her in a
while.” She laughs again, shaking her head. “What?”

“It’s kinda sad that you
missed the dog more than your ex-wife.”

It is sad. That’s just where
we ended up, I guess. I’m bombarded with memories of Faith asking
what was wrong, and me not answering, trying harder to hide it
because I didn’t want to tell her of my struggles. Our marriage
fell apart because of that, and what am I doing right now? Trying
to repeat history with Brittany.

Just as I open my mouth to
spill the truth, the timer dings and Brittany turns away to pull
the pizza out of the oven. I need to say
something
. Give her
something in exchange for holding out on her. She gets the pizza
cutter from a drawer and begins to slice.