Driving Me Mad (33 page)

Brittany rolls onto her back,
huffs, and looks at me. “I feel like I’m going crazy,” she says,
her voice cracking. Her hair is a mess between the tossing and
turning and sex from earlier. She’s still naked, but she has the
blankets pulled up to her neck.

Underneath the sheets, I
reach out to find her side, let my fingers travel over her stomach
to her hip, and then pull her closer. “What are you thinking
about?”

She shifts to lie on her side
and adjusts her pillow underneath her head. “Like I’m going insane,
and,” she hesitates, “like we’re not the same.”

“Why do you think that? You
don’t need to worry about us, Britt.”

“I don’t know. I feel like we
talked more before you moved here. Like, you never really talk to
me about how you’re feeling. Not directly anyway. If it wasn’t for
your tells most of the time, I wouldn’t know. Right now, how are
you feeling?”

“Like I could use some sleep.
I’ve gotten maybe six hours the past two nights. I’ll probably have
another med change to see if that’ll help because I’m not doing
well at all. See, I can talk to you.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah,
after you were prompted.”

Her deadpan tone and overall
reaction causes me to crack a smile.

“Don’t smile at me like that.
You’ll make me go all soft and I’m trying to be serious.”

“I know, and I hear you.
You’re still cute.”

She rolls her eyes again.
“Anything in particular on your mind, since you can’t sleep
either?”

That causes me to lose my
smile. “I was thinking about what I would’ve done if they fired
me.”

“I’m glad they didn’t.”

“Mr. Hanifin wasn’t happy to
have to deal with it, that’s for sure.”

“Who would’ve reported you,
though? Is it really that big of a deal? I mean, you could’ve been
there as an emergency or something, right?”

“He wouldn’t tell me who it
was, so I don’t know,” I say.

“Try not to think about it.
Maybe if you start talking, you’ll bore us both to sleep.” She
yawns, and it’s not a fake one. “See? Already working.”

Despite not feeling like it,
I laugh. “What do you want me to tell you this time?”

“Tell me about the next date
you’re taking me on. Shame on you to be dating me this long and for
us to have so few dates.”

“Pizza,
Dateline
, and
sex doesn’t count as a date?” I tease.

“Only sometimes.”

So, I start to tell her about
this elaborate, extravagant date that might never happen, but it’s
nice to dream about. Turns out, I can even bore myself to sleep.
Unfortunately, I wake up two hours later. Brittany gets more sleep,
and for that, I’m thankful. One of us should get a decent rest.

Hours later, she wakes up to
rush to the bathroom. It’s going to be a bad day for us both, it
seems. I’ve never been worried about going into work, but I am.
Even though my job has been saved, I wonder if my co-workers know
and what they think of me now. They don’t know I have a girlfriend,
much less that she’s a student and I’ve been sneaking into her
dorm.

My chest aches, hurting so
bad I would think I’m having a heart attack if I didn’t know
better. It’s anxiety. Brittany vomits and I get chest pains. Not a
day in my working life have I worried about going into work, and
especially not enough to have a fucking panic attack. I hear the
toilet flush and Brittany walks back into the room a few moments
later.

“You didn’t follow me.” It’s
not an accusation or show of disappointment. It’s simply a
statement. Her eyes fall and I realize she’s watching me grip my
neck. Brittany comes over, climbs onto the bed, and straddles my
lap. She gently tugs my hand away and holds it tightly in hers.
“I’ve done this to you.”

I lean back against the
headboard. “No, you didn’t,” I sigh. “Anxiety and depression go
hand-in-hand.”

“It didn’t with you until you
started dating me.”

“Britt, it’s not because of
you, so stop. It’s more important to convince me to get out of bed
and go to work. Give me three good reasons.”

“You’ll feel better once
you’re there. It’ll be worse if you push it off. And,” she pauses
before thinking of a third reason, “shower sex.”

I eye her skeptically. It all
sounds too easy. “You want to have sex?” She normally doesn’t when
she’s all riled up from her anxiety.

She shrugs. “I can suffer
through it for you.” Brittany fails to hold back a small smile,
which makes me laugh.

“You’re a terrible
girlfriend. Get up, so I can shower. I’m not going to make you
suffer through the sex with me.” I playfully slap her ass when she
doesn’t move.

“Thank God,” she dramatically
says, causing me to laugh again.

The ache in my chest fades
for now, and I finally know the answer to my question from last
night.

She’s definitely worth
it.

***

“
H
ey, Brittany.
How are things going?” Dr. Gunner asks.

“Not great.”

“All right. Well, let’s hear
it.” I imagine him leaning back in his office chair as if he’s
relaxing.

“Is it possible that it’s
helping my anxiety, but not the depression? Because my anxiety
isn’t as bad as usual, but the rest? I’m going crazy here, Dr.
Gunner.”

“I can increase your current
meds, or I can prescribe something new. You’re responding fairly
well to these meds, right?”

“Yeah, I haven’t had any
crazy side effects,” I answer.

“Then, let’s increase your
dosage and see how that works, okay?”

“Okay, thanks.”

I talk to him for a few more
minutes, and then we hang up. I hate the waiting game that comes
with this mess. I have to wait to see if the meds will work. I have
to wait to see if I’ll get better or worse. Wait to see what’s
going to happen with my life. I hate waiting.

With the phone call over and
my classes done for the day, I start packing my bags.

“What are you doing?” Rebecca
asks as she walks into the room.

“I’m going to stay with Trace
this week.” I go on to tell her that someone reported him and he
was written up for being here. She has a funny look on her face, so
I finally stop and ask, “What is it?”

“This is my fault.”

“What? How?” It makes no
sense for it to be Rebecca’s fault.

“Well,” she drags. “Shortly
after you left, Dustin came over and blew up at me because he
thought I was cheating on him. He saw Trace following me in and was
royally pissed off; he kept saying how Trace was going to get what
he deserved. Maybe Dustin is the one who reported him.”

“Maybe. But how would he know
Trace was an employee? And it still doesn’t make it your fault,
Bec,” I reassure her.

“He told me that he’s been to
the counselors’ office once before with his roommate. He may have
seen Trace then.”

I shrug. “It doesn’t matter
now. I’m going to stay there and keep an eye on him. If you miss me
too much, then text me and we’ll have lunch or something,” I say as
I grab my things.

“Will do. Have fun.”

I don’t think fun is what
I’ll be having. All I’m hoping for is relaxation and peace. That’s
way more important. Trace and I arrive at his house around the same
time. He doesn’t try to smile when he sees me. He doesn’t even say
hey. The most I get from him is a glance of acknowledgement and
hand-holding as he takes my hand to lead me to the door once I walk
up to him. That’s better than just a glance, though.

“Damn it,” he mutters as he
unlocks the door and pushes it open.

“What is it?” I ask.

“I meant to pick up something
for dinner.”

“I’ll run to get us
something. Think about what you want and I’ll go get it.” Problem
solved. Trace nods and I walk past him to drop my things off in his
room while he lets Lily outside. When I return, he tells me what he
wants and I leave to go get it. I debate whether or not I should
tell him that I may know who told on him. He doesn’t seem too
concerned over that aspect, so maybe it’s better to let it
rest.

Trace is sitting in his
recliner once I return. I hand him his burger and fries, set the
bag on the end table by the couch, and then grab us some drinks. We
eat in silence. Even Lily ambles into the kitchen to eat at the
same time as us. The urge to speak, say something to end the utter
silence, is overwhelming. It’s all I can think about.

“Brittany,” Trace says with a
snap of his fingers.

“Huh?”

“I asked if you called Dr.
Gunner.”

“Oh. Yeah. He’s upping my
dosage. He didn’t want to switch it up since I haven’t had any
negative side effects and it has helped my anxiety.”

Trace nods, sets his trash on
the table next to him, and crooks his finger for me to come sit
with him. Like an obedient puppy, I get up and sit in his lap.
Trace reclines and starts rubbing my back like he always does.

“I get new meds instead of an
increase,” he tells me. “I got a recommendation to see a therapist,
but I laughed and said no thanks.”

That makes me smile. “It
would be kinda odd, wouldn’t it? You’d probably be a bad patient,
like doctors are when they have to be.”

“You’re probably right.”

“How was work?”

Trace sighs. “Could’ve been
better. I figured it’d be private, but his assistant loves gossip,
so I guess news spread among them of what happened. They all know
I’m dating a student. The fact that I knew you prior to my hiring
doesn’t seem to matter to them. I’m the talk of the office, and I
hate it.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. I
feel like we have the opposite effects on one another. He’s good
for me; I’m bad for him. At this point, I could probably make a
damn list of all the ways I’m bad for him, of all the ways I’ve
negatively impacted his life.

“Not your fault, Britt. Have
you talked to your parents this week?” he asks, swiftly changing
the subject.

“Not yet.” I know better than
to ask if he’s talked to his dad. “Sometimes, I just wish I could
be in my own bed at their house,” I confess.

“What? My bed’s not good
enough?” he teases, causing me to chuckle.

“Okay. Sometimes, I wish I
had your bed at their house. I miss them.” Tears begin to well in
my eyes. “I miss being home.”

“I miss being strong.”

That causes me to lift my
head to look at him. His face is clear of any emotions. “What?”

“Hard to feel strong and
reliable when all I want to do is let go.”

Letting go is the equivalent
of giving up. Hearing Trace say this scares me to death. “By
not
giving in to what you want proves how strong you are,
Trace.”

“Being strong is hard and
exhausting.”

“Yes, it is,” I confirm
quietly.

“This is me talking to you,
in case you didn’t notice.” He pokes my side gently.

His comment is such a
contrast to what we were talking about that it catches me off guard
enough to laugh. “I hadn’t noticed.”

He does a fake gasp. “Shame
on you, Brittany. Here I am trying to be a good boyfriend and do
what the best girlfriend ever has asked of me and you don’t even
notice. You might have to be demoted.”

A smile easily graces my
face. “What would my demoted title be?”

“My mediocre girlfriend.”

“Will you love me
anyway?”

“Of course,” he answers
without any hesitation.

“Then I don’t care.”

Trace laughs, obviously not
expecting that answer. I should catch him off guard more often if
it means getting a genuine reaction like this from him. He kisses
the top of my head. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Maybe life sucks right now,
but it doesn’t mean it’ll always be this way. We’re here, together,
and dealing with it as it comes. We’ll eventually make it to the
other side. Hopefully, that’ll come sooner rather than later.