Then There Was You (15 page)

I couldn’t lie, but I couldn’t tell the truth either. I couldn’t look him in the eye. When I didn’t answer him right away, I could tell that he knew by his expression of horror. My gaze abruptly dropped to the floor, hanging my head in shame.

Why did he have to walk in? Why did I do something so stupid?

I heard soft steps approach me. Before I could react, Chris was by my side peering up at me as he knelt down beside my office chair. My eyes stayed glued to the floor, my guilt a constant thump in the pulse of my neck.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t try to coax the words out of me. He only placed his hand on my shoulder to comfort me. I squeezed my eyelids shut, unable to shake the look of fear that came over his face when he’d realized what I had done.

Without warning he gripped my hand, reaching out to me as if I were a lifeboat in a treacherous sea. My heart raced in my chest. Rapid, shallow breaths made me feel faint as he gently slid the sleeve of my shirt up to my elbow and peered at the wound. I gulped harder, wanting to scream, wanting to yank my arm away from him, but I didn’t. I kept still. I felt exposed. I felt ugly, and I deserved it. I did this to myself.

I glanced up at him as he studied my injury. His eyes were glassy.
Why would Chris cry for me? Did he really care that much?

“Oh god, Mrs. Honeycutt,” he whispered, panic-stricken.

I didn’t understand his desperation. It addled me, yet it drew me in. I wanted to know why. I wanted to comprehend it.

His voice trembled with suppressed emotions as he said softly, “Please don’t. I need you.”

The lump in my throat doubled in size, and my heart ached. My head swirled with so many thoughts and feelings that I could barely decipher one from the next—fear, regret, compassion, sorrow, anger, empathy. The violent tempest that was whirling inside of me wanted out while I was using all my strength to keep it in.

I shook my head, conveying my promise with my eyes. “Never again,” I whispered, my voice barely audible through my tears. “I promise.”

Chris nodded, unable to speak, but I could see the truth in his three little words, declaring how much he needed me. It was all there, and I didn’t understand it. But I knew I needed him too.

“Please… please don’t say anything… to anyone,” I stammered. I was terrified that they’d send me out on medical leave or make me take a leave of absence.

“I won’t,” he whispered, as if he already understood what the ramifications would be if he told someone.

Chris quickly stood up, as if suddenly aware of what had just happened or how it might look. Self-consciously, he wiped his eyes on his sleeves, darting out the door and closing it softly behind him. I heard Officer Harris greet him to escort him back to his bunk.

I wondered what made him stop by my office in the first place. Sixth sense? But that thought was overshadowed by everything that had just occurred in the span of a few hours, weighing me down like a ton of bricks.

Folding my arms on my desk, I laid my head across them. I buried my face into the crook of my elbow and cried. I wept until my tears ran dry and all that was left were the quiet sounds of my heaving breaths.

The next day, I fought to keep the dizziness at bay, not daring to move too quickly or I’d feel nauseated. I chalked it up to a touch of vertigo—something I’d suffered through for six months while I was in college. I glanced at the clock. It was almost time for my session with Greg.
Maybe I’ll have just enough time to rest my eyes for a minute before he gets here.
I could already feel the room spinning. I sat very still, hoping the feeling would pass.

“Mrs. Honeycutt?” Greg asked as he walked through the door. “Are you okay?”

I looked up at Greg with glassy eyes, quickly wiping the stinging tears away. “I’m sorry. I’m okay. Just tired today.”

“Are you sure? You don’t look so good.” The concern on his face was alarming.

Suddenly, the room started to swim. My head felt dizzy and my hands felt like lead in my lap. I could feel my eyes rolling back into my head as I struggled to keep my balance.

“Mrs. Honeycutt… Mrs. Honey–”

It was the last thing I remember before I blacked out.

I woke up on a stretcher. There was an oxygen mask over my mouth. I saw unfamiliar faces surrounding me, checking my vital signs. The wheels of the stretcher squeaked as they wheeled me toward the awaiting ambulance. My eyes tried to focus on the rectangular tiles of the dropped ceiling as they blurred past me on the way down the hall. I tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come.

“Ma’am, everything is okay. We’re just transporting you to the hospital for observation.”

I nodded. Honestly, all I wanted to do was go back to sleep. There was too much confusion in my muddled brain.

“Mrs. Honeycutt…” I heard Greg calling in the background.

“Son, she’s gonna be fine. No need to worry,” the EMT patted Greg’s shoulder assuredly.

Greg shrugged him off. “Get your hands off me, sir.” The edge in his voice managed to pull me a little out of my fog. “Mrs. Honeycutt!” His cries were frantic as he fought the guard, trying to get closer to me.

I threw my hand in the air and gave him a thumbs-up. I would be just fine, and I wanted to put him at ease. I just needed some rest… and maybe some food.

I was thinking about my rumbling stomach when a thought grabbed my heart and squeezed.
Oh god, what if they see my wrist? They might fire me.
Before I could think, the EMT was jerking up the sleeve of my shirt to find a vein for an IV.
No!
I screamed in my muffled, swimmy head.

The EMT didn’t say anything. She just looked at me with a hint of compassion and concern, and maybe even a dash of just-think-of-the-children stink eye.

“Oh my god, Salem!” Graham rushed to my bedside, glancing at the nurse who was charting my vitals. “I just got the call ten minutes ago. I tried to get here as fast as I can. What happened?”

My mouth was dry. The bright, florescent light above my bed caused me to squint my eyes. Feeling too weak to speak or move, it was as if my brain was thinking of all the right things, but the synapses didn’t seem to connect.

The nurse chimed in, “Sir, your wife is being treated for severe fatigue. We’re giving her some fluids through an IV for minor dehydration as well. She passed out while she was with a client, but with some rest, she’ll be just fine. She should be fine to go home soon. In fact, we can go ahead and get the discharge paperwork started now.”

“Thank you, nurse,” Graham nodded at her and then turned his attention toward me. “What’s going on, Salem?” he said, gently clasping my hand. For a moment I saw the compassion in his eyes that I remembered from our years of dating when we were in college—before we were sucked down into the vortex of ‘real life.’

My eyes blinked rapidly as I tried to swallow the cotton growing in my throat. “Just tired… so tired… need sleep.”

“Okay, honey,” he touched my cheek lovingly. “You sleep. I’ll go get Alexis from daycare and then I’ll be back to get you. Hopefully they will send you home by then.”

I simply nodded, my brain less receptive with each word he spoke. I could already feel my eyes rolling back into my head.
Goodnight
was my last thought.

“Mrs. Honeycutt?” The doctor’s voice cut through my heavenly bliss, rousing me from my deep, dreamless slumber.

“Hmm,” I stirred, my eyes trying to focus on the man in the white coat standing by my bedside.

“I’m so sorry to wake you. I’m Dr. Raman. I just wanted to discuss your treatment.” He stood at my bedside wearing a white coat.

“Okay,” I nodded weakly.

“The EMT brought your
injury
to my attention.” His eyes travelled pointedly to my injured wrist then back to my face. “I was wondering if we could talk about that for a moment.” His nearly black eyes looking into mine held an element of alarm.

The mention of my ‘injury’ immediately jarred my senses. “Oh, you mean my wrist?” I asked innocently.

Dr. Raman nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Do you mind if I have a look?” Reaching out, he grasped my arm and peered down at it. He turned it over to expose the thin line of a scab. My instinct was to cover it up, to hide my secret, but I didn’t. The truth of my pain was out. I couldn’t avoid it. “How did this happen, Mrs. Honeycutt?” he asked with concern.

The words refused to come. For a brief moment I considered lying, but I knew from the look on Dr. Raman’s face that there was no getting out of it. It was obvious by his expression that he already knew the truth.

“I did it,” I admitted, ashamed by my actions.

“How long ago?” he asked, releasing his grasp.

I tore my eyes away from him and stared at the stark, white hospital blanket that covered my legs. “A few days…”

“Is it something you want to talk to someone about?”

I shook my head vehemently. I was a counselor. I could talk to myself. I knew how to fix this. “I’m not going to kill myself,” I announced firmly. “I have no plans or intentions on taking my life, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Dr. Raman watched me intently over his black rimmed glasses. I returned a gaze of wide-eyed innocence, a further attempt at trying to convince him.

Finally, he said, “I’ll tell you what. I’m going to write you a prescription.” He flipped out his prescription pad and started scribbling. “It’s for an anti-depressant, but I’d like to refer you to a counselor for a follow-up.”

“Okay,” I said dejectedly, hiding the embarrassment of my wrist beneath the blanket.

Thoughts swirled in my head—defensive, wishful thoughts.
I shouldn’t need a counselor. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. I can snap out of it. I just need a little sleep, that’s all.

A sense of dread suddenly came over me. “Dr. Raman, please don’t tell the staff at Fairbanks about my wrist. They’ll ask me take a leave of absence. I need my job. My kids need me,” I could feel the panic welling up in my chest.

Dr. Raman shook his head, ripping the prescription he’d written off the notepad. “I will not disclose any medical information to your employer. I do, however, highly encourage you to seek counseling as soon as possible. I will have my staff supply you with a referral. Please talk to someone. You’ll be surprised of the results. Even a counselor like yourself should know that.”