Olivia squeezes my hand once. “I know, and I’m glad you know it too. It’s okay to need help.” Her voice nearly kills me from being so understanding.
“So you keep saying.” I lean back into the couch, feeling so tired and ready for bed. I don’t let go of her hand, though. For right now, she’s grounding me, keeping me floating above the surface, and I don’t want to let go yet. I want to stay afloat for a bit longer before I sink again. It’s coming, I can feel it as good as I can feel Olivia’s hand in mine. She leans back with me and rests her head on my shoulder as if she’s somehow reading my thoughts.
“Thanks for confiding in me, Corey,” she says. “I know it was hard for you to do.”
She has no idea. Or maybe she does. She watched me unfold right in front of her, and God only knows how long she was standing there watching me struggle at her door.
My voice drops again as my leg resumes the bouncing. “What now?”
“You make an appointment with your doctor and get a referral to see a psychiatrist. Sometimes, they’ll send you to a therap
ist as well, but I could be your therapist-in-training if you want.”
I love that she offers. “Thanks, Olivia.”
“Any time.” She pauses before adding, “Rough day?” She’s probably wondering what made today different, what made me say something now and not later or before.
“Rough year.” It’s been a little over a year since my injury, since I lost the game. And look at where I am now. I could be playing in the NFL, but no. I’m trying to stay sane. The weight sinks in my chest, reassuring me that it’s still here. “I’m going to go.” I hastily make the decision to kiss her temple before I sit up, but she doesn’t let go of my hand.
When I glance at her, something’s different. She looks as if she doesn’t trust me, but why?
“Stay awhile longer.”
For her, I want to, but I’m ready to be back in my apartment more. “Olivia,” I start, about to explain to her that the answer’s no.
“Please,” she pleads. Does she realize her grip tightens around my hand?
“I’m only going across the hall, Olivia. I’m tired.” I wish I could stay, but I’m not sure I have the strength.
“Then let me come with you. I just…”
“What?” I question, wondering why she is being so persistent about this.
She doesn’t answer, instead repeating what she wants. “Let me come with you, please?”
I get the feeling this isn’t about me anymore. Something could have happened and she might be having a bad day too. I wouldn’t know, because I haven’t talked to her. Maybe she doesn’t want to be alone tonight. Maybe she’s needing me to be strong for her.
If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s being strong for someone else, even if I have to pretend for myself.
“Okay. I’ll leave the door unlocked, but I’m going ahead to bed. Come over once you’re ready.”
I’M LYING IN bed, listening, waiting to hear Olivia come in. Maybe I should go check on her. It’s been twenty minutes. If she really did have a bad day and she needs me, then I’m doing a terrible job of being there for her. Just as I’m about to toss the covers to the side, I hear my door close and then footsteps.
A figure appears in my doorway.
“Olivia?”
“Yeah,” she answers. “I’m here. Just wanted to see if you were still awake.”
“Yeah.” I pause, wondering if I should do what I’m about to do. I’ve already done one thing today that I wasn’t expecting to do. Might as well make it two things. “C’mon. You can sleep in here with me.”
That seems to be what she was waiting for. She quickly comes around and crawls into my bed. She’s probably six inches away, both of us lying on our backs, staring at the ceiling. It’s after a long day like this that I almost wish I didn’t throw away all my alcohol yesterday.
My hands are clasped together on my chest, moving as I breathe. I like the silence with Olivia. It’s easy and I don’t have to talk or lie about the simple things. Tomorrow, I’ll make an appointment that’ll lead to another and hopefully some help. I might even call Lucy. She gets pissed if I don’t call regularly, and I think it hurts her feelings too. That’s not something I want to do, so I guess I’ll call. She’ll think things are back to normal if I keep up appearances. Plus, it’ll be good to hear from her.
After about fifteen minutes of being lost in my thoughts, Olivia reaches over to take one of my hands in hers, resting them between us. I wonder if I should try to get her to talk, but I’m not sure. She might want me to talk in return and that’s not happening. But if she’s having a bad day, then maybe she wants to talk about it. Some people like to do that.
“Rough day for you too?” I finally say, silently praying this doesn’t backfire on me.