Lindy
Had I hit my head? God, the pain was crazy. I opened my eyes. Where the hell was I? The walls in the room were white, the bed I was in metal, and the pillow like a pack of cement, and a smell of disinfectant hung in the air. I was in a hospital.
Oh my God, I’d taken the pills and survived and now I had to face everyone…
Shit. Guilt and embarrassment washed in with the force of a tsunami. I’d let Mom down. Dad would be heartbroken and disappointed. I’d hurt them.
I’d been wrapped up in pain last night, trapped in it, in the darkness, in chains of self-pity, I knew that, I could see the external perspective others saw––but they weren’t in my head, in the dark.
It had stopped being just emotions months ago, maybe years ago, and become a jail cell. I couldn’t see any end to this life sentence.
Everything had become scary. Others lived but I couldn’t.
Then there had been Jason’s news, everywhere––on Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr and Instagram. The baby had been born. The pictures were circulating like crazy.
Everyone we’d been at school with had shared them.
They’d called the kid, Saint. It was a crappy name.
People said he’d picked a name for the kid to grow into.
I rolled on to my side, tears running onto my cheeks and curled up hugging the cement-like pillow. A year ago, he’d been with me. I’d been engaged. I’d had a future, something to look to, now there was nothing.
I gave up my job, because I’d worked at the store with his dad.
His new girl, his wife, worked there now.
Life sucked. I hated fate. Why did it have to pick people out for bad things when they’d done nothing wrong? I’d given up believing in God or Karma or anything. Except angels…I hoped people came back after they died and watched over you.
I wiped the tears away.
There weren’t any monitors in the room, so I couldn’t have been so sick but I should probably buzz for a nurse and tell them I’d woken up.
I couldn’t. Embarrassment hit too hard. Maybe fate had been kind to me in that, keeping me alive, but now I felt stupid for taking an overdose… I didn’t know how I’d face Mom.
Billy
My thumb hovered over the send icon for the twentieth time today. Jason had texted yesterday to say he’d heard from Mr. Martin. Lindy was okay, just sleeping the drugs off in the hospital. He’d said she’d be out of action for a while.
I wanted to text her. But cowardice had a grip on my hand.
I switched the cell off, put it back in my pocket then got in the SUV to go to my next client.
I didn’t think of her while I worked. I had to watch my client, to make sure he did the exercises right and didn’t strain anything, and to count his repetitions.
But as soon as I left the guy my mind was back on Lindy.
Was she still in hospital?
Would she want me to text?
Did she know we’d been there?
Why the hell had she taken an overdose? Was it just a cry for help or had she really meant to end it?
How did she feel now?
The only way I was gonna get any answers was to text her. I took my cell out of the pocket of my sweat pants as I threw my backpack on the back seat of the SUV.
I got in with it gripped in my hand and sat there for a minute, looking at her picture. I’d taken it last year, after Jason had left for New York, when she and I had been hanging out a lot more, alone for the first time.
‘Hey, Lindy, sorry I haven’t been in touch. I should’ve been. How are you?’ My thumb hovered over ‘send’, my heart pounding out a bass beat. I had to do this. She was never gonna break the ice between us and I couldn’t stand feeling guilty anymore.
I didn’t expect an immediate reply. But relief hit me just because I’d done the deed.
I threw my cell on the passenger seat, slipped the gear shift into drive and pulled my seatbelt on, then pressed my foot on the gas.
My cell rang ten minutes later. I was on the road into town. Flicking the indicator on, I pulled into the side and parked on the dirt on the edge.
I picked my cell up. She’d called.
My hand shaking like a douche, I called her back. The leather bracelet I had on my wrist declared its presence as it slid a little up my arm.
“Hi––”
“Hey, Lindy, you called me. How are you?”
“Are you driving?” Her voice was quiet and weak––it still cut through me like a blade.
“I’ve pulled over. You can talk if you want to talk. Why did you do it, Lind?”
“Because I feel like shit.”
“Lind––”
“You don’t need to tell me it was foolish, I know. And selfish, and pathetic, and… terrible… I… I’m sorry you saw me. Thank you for helping me. I think I’m gonna have a lot of apologizing to do.” She took a breath. “Say sorry to Jason too.” She hung up.
Shit, I smacked the wheel with the heel of my palm. Why did she have to be so frickin’ hard? Why did she have to hurt me so much? Why the fuck did I have to care about her? I wished my asshole of a heart would fall for someone else.
Dammit.
I called her back. “Don’t hang up on me. Are you still in the hospital?”
“Yeah.”
“How long for?”
“They’re going to let me go soon, but I’ve got to see a psychiatrist first.”
“Well that sounds like a good idea. Look, I’m here for you. I know I’ve been a shit friend for the last few months, but, forget that, forgive me, and let’s make up and be friends again.”
She didn’t say anything. I didn’t push it. She had a lot to forgive me for.
“Why did you do it, Lind?”
“It was stupid, I––”
“This is me you’re talking to, be honest. Why did you do it?”
She sighed. I imagined the air leaving her lips. I’d watched her sigh so many times in the last year or
