Driving Me Mad (26 page)

I feel like we should keep
talking, so I do. “By the way, you’ll have tomorrow night to
yourself. Rebecca got me and her tickets to some male strip show.
She said it was a must since we’re in Vegas.”

“Okay; y’all will probably
have fun.”

“And I know she wants to go
to Fremont Street.”

“Sounds good.”

He doesn’t sound all that
excited about the trip, though. He hasn’t at all, really. I stare
at him as I debate whether or not it’s a good idea to ask him the
question burning the tip of my tongue.

Of course, he notices.

“What is it, Brittany?”

“You feelin’ okay?”

“Just fine,” he says as he
rests his head against the seat and closes his eyes again, ending
the conversation.

“Liar,” I whisper, angling
away from him. He loves me, but he’s full of shit. That whole
complete honesty phrase he feeds me sometimes to make sure I talk
to him is a load of crock. He still can’t be honest with me about
how he’s feeling. Well, not all the time at least.

“Britt,” he begins.

“Don’t. Take your nap.” I
close my eyes, even though I doubt I can sleep. I don’t want him to
tell me because I don’t believe he’s telling the truth. I don’t
want him to tell me because I want to know and he knows it’ll make
me happy. I want him to tell me because he wants to share it with
me and doesn’t feel the need to lie to me about it. He doesn’t have
to hide it from me. He shouldn’t have to. He shouldn’t want to. Not
to mention, I thought he was trying to do better, but obviously not
in this area.

A hand lands on my thigh, but
I ignore it. Lips brush my ear, and I try to ignore that too. “I
just don’t want you to worry about me and I don’t want to bring you
down with me.”

I turn back toward him. “I
worry about you regardless, Trace, and that’s no excuse to hold
back on me. You won’t bring me down with you either. You haven’t so
far. How would you feel if I lied to you about how I’m feeling?” He
frowns, and I’m quick to say, “Exactly! You wouldn’t like it. What
makes you think I do? You’re not good at hiding it from me anymore,
Trace.”

His expression is firm and
annoyed. “Fine. I feel like shit. Happy now?”

“No, because you’re irritated
that you’re having to tell me.”

“I’m not irritated with you,”
he sighs. “I’m pissed at myself. I hate that it takes you calling
me out for me to be honest with you. Some days, it’s harder than
others. Today is a hard day. I want to tell you, I do—”

“Then do it,” I interrupt. I
feel...I feel almost desperate for him to do this. Like if he does,
then it seals our relationship. Like it’s the last big hurdle we
have to go through before we can honestly say we can tackle
anything that comes our way. Otherwise, we’re surely doomed. “We
have this undetermined length of an airplane ride,” I add when all
he does is stare at me.

Finally, he cracks a small
smile. “Fine.” He rests his forehead against mine. “What do you
want me to tell you?”

“If the situation were
reversed, what would you want to hear from me?”

Trace seems to think about
it. “Well, I should probably mention that I got a med change
yesterday. I was fine earlier, but I don’t know,” he sighs. “I’m
tired and I want my recliner. Or lots of sex.”

I knew it!
I knew he
used sex to distract himself and make him feel better.

“Why are you smiling?” he
asks curiously.

“You just proved something I
was wondering about is all. Keep talking.”

“That’s all I got.” He must
see my disappointment because he says, “I want to tell you about my
mom once we get back home.”

“You don’t have to, not
unless you really want to.”

“I do.”

“Okay.”

He kisses my forehead. “Will
you be okay if I take a nap?”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

It was a small step, and I
had to force his hand, but Trace could’ve chosen to shut down on me
and he didn’t. I lean against him and close my eyes, repeating my
life motto in my head.

Trust in Trace.

***

I
can’t help but
chuckle as the girls exit the cab with looks of fear on their
faces. Needless to say, they aren’t fans of Vegas taxi drivers.
They booked a hotel at one end of the strip, and they keep glancing
around at all that’s happening as we make our way inside to the
check-in desk. My nap on the plane didn’t last nearly enough as
Brittany woke me up at some point because she was starting to get
antsy and it was feeding her anxiety, despite the pills she
took.

Exhausted. Bone-tired. Weary.
Near death. Any way to describe how tired I am wouldn’t do it
justice. I need a bed, stat. Emotionally and mentally, this is the
worst time for me to be on a trip where I’m expected to do things,
be social, and be in a good mood. To make matters worse, Brittany
had to practically pull it out of me that I feel this way.

We carry our bags up to our
room. Brittany told me that Rebecca had wanted to get two rooms, so
we could each have our own, but she knew Rebecca couldn’t afford
it. Therefore, we’re sharing a room with two queen beds. At this
point, I’d rather have a room to myself. I try to expel those
thoughts from my mind. They won’t do me any good.

“What do we want to do first?
Explore the hotel?” Rebecca asks as she hefts her bag into one of
the room’s chairs.

I set mine and Brittany’s
down near the desk.

“Yeah, let’s walk around the
hotel,” Brittany says. “Trace?” She looks to me.

“Sounds good.”

Rebecca double checks that
she has the room keys and then we leave the hotel room. I don’t
really see anything as we walk. My mind has shut down into simple
functions.

Hold Brittany’s hand.

Nod at all the right
times.

Put one foot in front of the
other.

Smile when needed.

Seem interested.

However, Brittany wasn’t
lying when she told me that I don’t hide it well from her anymore.
Somehow we get separated from Rebecca, only by a few feet, and
Brittany tugs on my hand to pull me to a stop.

“Here.” She holds out a room
key she must’ve grabbed from Rebecca at some point. “Go rest,
Trace,” she tells me quietly. “You’re not here anyway, and maybe
it’ll help if you take a break.”

A reassurance that I’m fine
is on the tip of my tongue. But damn if the offer isn’t too
tempting. “What room are we in again?”

“529.”

“I’m sorry,” I offer.

“Don’t be. Text me if you
need anything.”

I nod and lean down to kiss
her softly, just in time for Rebecca to start coming over to rejoin
Brittany. I make my escape before she can reach her. The room is
quiet except for the hum of the air conditioner and the occasional
footsteps of people walking down the hallway. I plop onto the bed.
Twenty minutes pass, and I’m no closer to a nap than I was before.
For the first time, I truly realize how Brittany could’ve gotten to
the point where she’d taken a sleeping pill when she shouldn’t
have.

My sigh seems to echo around
the room. I roll over onto my stomach, readjust the pillow, and
close my eyes.

Please let me rest, so I can
be a decent boyfriend on this trip.

“Trace.” My shoulder shakes
some more. My eyelids pull themselves apart. Brittany is leaning
over me. “Sorry to wake you up, babe, but we’re going out to get
something to eat. Do you want to go with us?”

“Yeah.” My stomach cramps
with hunger. I sit up and run a hand through my hair. “Where is
Rebecca?”

“Waiting downstairs.”

“Give me a minute, and I’ll
be ready.”

She nods, and I go into the
bathroom. A few minutes later, I come out and wave for her to come
on. Brittany takes my hand as we walk toward the elevators.

“Did your nap help?”

“Yeah,” I answer, silently
adding
for now
. “How was exploring the hotel? Gamble any?”
We step into the elevator and I press the button for the lobby.

“Just the slots; I’m already
twenty dollars in the hole. I kept losing and losing. So far, I
don’t see the appeal.”

I laugh, and it feels good to
do so. “Keep playing and maybe your luck will change.” She keeps
shifting her weight, seemingly anxious, so I ask, “You doing okay,
Britt?”

“Everything is a bit
overwhelming, but I’m doing well. For now anyway.”

Damn. She amazes me every
day. I lean against one of the walls and pull her to me, resting my
forehead against hers. Brittany seems surprised, but she waits for
me to speak. “Don’t ever forget that you are much, much stronger
than you think.” She had the guts to add that
for now
when I
held it back. The ability to speak openly about your issues with
someone you care about is a strength, one I’m obviously and sorely
lacking.

The elevator dings and I
nudge Brittany, so she’ll walk out. “What makes you say that?” she
asks with confusion.

“Because it’s true and I want
to make sure you know it. There’s Rebecca,” I finish as I spot
her.

We eat dinner at one of the
many restaurants in the hotel. It’s Italian and the food is
delicious. It’s relatively easy to participate in their
conversation. I
do
feel better in that I can function like a
normal person without it wearing me out at the moment.

“Are we doing anything
tonight?” I ask.

“We were thinking of going to
the Bellagio to see the fountain show,” Rebecca begins. “Then back
here. Tomorrow, explore half the hotels, gamble, and the show for
us at night. The next day, we’ll explore the rest of the hotels we
want to see and go to Fremont Street.”

After that, we go home. The
girls wanted to stay for the entire length of spring break, but
they weren’t able to pull the money together for that. I’m thankful
we aren’t staying that long.

“Sounds good.”

Once we finish dinner, we
hail a cab to take us down to the other end of the strip. We’re
pushing for time as it is and it’d take us too long to walk. People
are everywhere, and Brittany and Rebecca both stick to my sides. I
put a hand on both of their backs and wonder what we must look like
to other people, for me to have a girl on each side of me.

“Oh! Look!” Rebecca rushes
forward and we hurry after her. She’s managed to nab a spot that
was just vacated with a great view for the show. There’s only room
for the two of them, but it’s no problem for me to stand behind
them. I feel like a bodyguard, especially when Brittany pulls me
closer to her.

We have about twenty minutes
before the show starts. In that time, Brittany gets tenser and
tenser from the crowds and all the noises. Traffic starting and
stopping, horns honking, engines revving as they punch the gas,
conversations creating a jumble of noises as people talk, people
shouting as they try to sell you water, and a group about thirty
feet away yelling in protests about how people are going to hell
for being in this city, gambling and whatnot. It
is
a little
overwhelming, especially when all you’re doing is standing and
waiting.