Page 55 of The Retreat

“That is your neurodivergency talking. Do not go buy paint.”

“But wouldn’t it look cool midnight blue with stars?”

Oliver pinches the bridge of his nose. “I am surrounded by children.”

I crawl back under the chaise, deciding food and water can wait until later. Talking to Oliver didn’t help. I was in such a good place before today, and it all came crashing down. But that’s the fucking thing about anxiety? It didn’t matter how much I know it’s not rational or realistic. Nothing’s rational when I spiral. And it builds like this and keeps going like a fucking runaway train. The weight on my chest becomes too much to bear, and I’m reduced to a shaking mess that can’t do anything for himself.

And then starts the even more fun part when my depression gets triggered and all the existential dread piles on my existence. Then I’m back in the black fucking hole that sucks everything good in and spits out garbage.

Why can’t my fucking brain be normal? I should be on top of the world, but I’m laying on the floor in my room seriously considering how much happier I could be if I died this very instant because I can’t stop thinking about all the ways all of this was going to go horribly, terribly wrong.

Most of which is centered around my husband. The marriage should have removed stress from my life, but it added to it. All of these new feelings and none of them make any sense. I shouldn’t care if Colin likes someone else. He deserves to be loved for real. He deserves someone in his life who will support him, but he got me. I keep reminding myself that he went into this willingly, but my brain rejects it.

Colin appears out of nowhere and shoves himself under the chaise with me. “What are you doing?”

“Wishing I would vanish into thin air.”

He turns his head to look at me. “I guess we’re staying in then.” Colin doesn’t sound mad. “Both of us can camp under the chaise until you feel better.”

“There is no way both of us can fit under here.”

“We won’t know until we try.” He shoves closer to me, pressing his bare arm against mine so we are shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip.

“This is absurd.”

“It’s only absurd if you make it absurd. If you can lay under here, so can I.”

“This is my safe space.”

“Am I not allowed to be in your safe space?”

I glare at him in the dark, although he probably can’t see me.

Colin laughs, and I love the sound. “I know how to make you feel better. I make you feel better all the time.”

“My dick is not a magic cure for my depression or anxiety.” But why am I half hard at his words?

“I wasn’t calling it a cure. I was calling it a temporary fix.”

I roll my eyes, but my dick is already responding to him as it so frequently does now.

Colin is some clairvoyant seer and presses his lips to the corner of my mouth. “I can feel you’re getting hard.”

“How do you always know?

“You get this carnal look in your eyes. Almost like your brother does. But he wears it all the time. You get it when you’re about to ravage me.”

“Don’t say ravage.” I cringe.

“That’s what you’re doing, isn’t it?”

“Maybe it is. But that word sounds derogatory.” Why does it have to feel like I’m using him? I don’t want Colin to feel like I’m using him.

“It’s only derogatory if the person you’re ravaging thinks it’s derogatory. And I happen to be delighted by it.”

“Colin, have you ever considered there might be something seriously wrong with you?” I ask him carefully. He’s in therapy, but maybe he should consider more. I always consider more. Like it could be another layer over my mental illness.

“Oh, I’ve more than considered it. I got told that my whole life. So, yeah, pretty sure there’s something seriously wrong with me. But, no, I decided I like who I am and all of those parts of me. You should too.” If only we could all have the confidence of Colin, who could just be happy with something seriously wrong with himself.

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