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He brings me a cup of tea the next morning. I awake with a start, replaying the events of the last night.
“Here, drink this,” he says. I hesitate, worried he’s put something in it. I take it and set it on the stand. My shirt has fallen down my shoulder. I readjust it, sitting up against the headboard.
“I made you an appointment with Dr. Fountain for later today.”
“I make my own choices. I don’t need you taking care of me,” I reply. My words are steady and sure. A good night’s sleep has helped calm my rashness.
“I’m not trying to cause you problems. It’s just—Ev, I know things have been a mess lately. And I feel horrible because my attention has been elsewhere. But it will all make sense soon. I promise. Until then, I need you to stay strong and well. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
I stare at the comforter. I don’t want to look into his pleading blue eyes that make me forget it all. I pick at a loose thread on the comforter.
“I’m sorry, John. I’m sorry this didn’t turn out as we expected. I was wrong that night.”
“We’ve both made mistakes, Ev. But I’m trying to remedy them. Are you going to be okay?” he asked. I look up at him now, the man who always made sure I was okay. Even now, he’s trying to play the rescuer role.
“I’m fine. I’m not going to kill myself, if that’s what you’re asking,” I retort as I get out of bed and get dressed.
And it’s true. I know I can’t. I have to be strong like Mama was. I owe her that much.
John leaves for work after I promise him up and down that I’m okay and that I’m going to go to my appointment. He says he has an important meeting or otherwise, he’d stay home. I don’t even question it anymore. There’s no point.
I know I can’t do anything rash. I need to take some more time. And then it will be over. All over. I’ll finally walk out of that bar alone.