“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mumble.
“Em,” I hear Chloe call out to me. Everyone else in the room goes silent, their eyes putting me on display like a zoo animal. Shit, I must have said that louder than I thought. I shut my mouth before others fly out. I let them scream at me on the inside, trying to escape.
Liam was staring at me before I took off down Natalie’s hallway. I bypass the half bathroom and go straight to hers. Both doors slamming behind me unintentionally.
I push the lock button in the bathroom and check the handle to ensure no one can enter.
The click of the lock was my cue to let myself feel it.All of it.Seeing Liam in the coffee shop. His company is our new client.Him being cuddled up with my best friend. The distance and time that has separated us and how much I’ve missed him.
I throw up.
Several times. I empty my stomach of everything I ate today, which wasn’t much since I didn’t attend the lunch meeting. The white porcelain is cold against my inflamed skin.
Is this what it feels like to relapse? When you remember how good the high feels, you crave more of it, even the lows. Take anything you can get to try to feel normal again. You lose sight of all your progress, and the person you are now seems pointless without it.
All it took was seeing Liam last week for me to start to relapse.
Only for a moment, I let myself get high on the memories, high on the what-ifs, high on every way he possibly could have ever loved me.
It takes over my body. A blissful ecstasy so surreal that I forget where I am for a moment.
My breathing and heart rate are in sync at a pace too fast to be good. I have to get myself together before someone comes searching for me and before I disappear entirely in this bathroom.
I flush the toilet and walk over to the counter. Too afraid to look in the mirror, I turn on the faucet, watching the water as I wait for it to get as cold as possible.
There’s a gentle knock on the door.
“Emerson?” It’s Chloe.
“I’m fine,” I choke out between labored breaths.
Touching my face, what I thought was sweat are tears. I didn’t realize I was also crying. I swipe it away, but instead of my hand, it’s his touch I feel, a phantom ghost of a memory.
That single tear becomes a stream; the next thing I know, I can replenish Lake Michigan with my tears.
“Let me in,” she pleads with me.
“Walked here and had to pee,” I fib.
“I don’t believe you. Now, please let me in.”
I reach behind me to turn the handle to unlock the door. Chloe opens the door, closes it behind her, and relocks it.
She flips my body around so that I’m facing her. “Are you okay?”
“Define okay,” I joke.
“You knowknowLiam?” she asks.
I nod.
“How?” From her raised eyebrows and the uptick corner of her lip, I can see that she is connecting the dots. Chloe is figuring out who he is and what he is to me, but isn’t forcing it. She’s letting me keep control of the narrative even though I lost it the day I met Liam.
“Long story.” I stare at my feet. Embarrassed that this is my reaction to seeing the two of them.
“I’ve got time,” Chloe says, her hands reaching out to rub my upper bicep in lazy, soothing circles.
“Not really. Natalie will probably come soon.”