Page 60 of Swift and Saddled

“It’s about…” She hesitated. “Depression,” she said after a minute. Ah. That explained the hesitation. People feltweird talking about it, but I didn’t. It was just as much a part of my life as my family, my hobbies, my dreams, and I tried to talk about it the way I would talk about any of those things—with respect and care.

“Go on,” I said, trying to make sure my voice was gentle.

“Do you”—she paused again, and I could see her chewing her words before they came out—“feel that way all the time?” It was a good question.

“No,” I said. “It hasn’t been as bad the past couple of years. I found a routine that works for me—medication, therapy, work—all of that makes me feel better. Waylon does too. I need him.” I thought back to when I was at my lowest. I used to have a hard time with change. It made me unsteady. I also like having things to take care of, and for my entire life up until Emmy went to college, it was her. I think both Gus and I felt a specific sort of pressure to look out for Emmy, more than we would’ve felt if our mom was around. Gus protected her—in a very literal sense of the word—and I was justtherefor her.

Growing up, Emmy didn’t want to stay in Meadowlark any longer than she had to. It wasn’t a surprise when she picked an out-of-state college, but I missed her while she was gone. It was like Gus and I didn’t really know what to do when she wasn’t around. My identity has always been who I am in relation to my siblings, so when one of them was gone, my entire being was thrown out of whack.

Plus, I’ve always had big feelings, so when I felt sad, lonely, or hopeless, it was substantial and…scary. “It was really bad after Emmy left for college, but my dad and Gus were here. That was before I really knew what depression was. Ihad felt milder versions of it before, but I couldn’t put a name to it. I just felt bad.

“It was my dad who suggested I see someone, and I’m happy he did. That’s also when I got Waylon.” I went to the pound to volunteer and came home with a tiny ball of white fluff. He’d been abandoned at the fire station. As soon as I saw him, I knew he was mine. I’ll be grateful to that dog for the rest of my life. He is my tether. It doesn’t matter what is going on, when Waylon’s big head finds its way under my hand, I feel better—at least for a minute.

“I feel stupid saying it now, but I honestly didn’t expect feeling better to be so…hard, I guess. And right now, I’m okay,” I said. “Right now, what I’m doing works, but I expect that there will come a day when I feel the ache in my bones—like the kind my dad feels before a storm—and what I’m doing now won’t work, and I’ll have to start over. It terrifies me.”

Ada laid her head on my shoulder. She didn’t say anything—she didn’t have to. For years, I had desperately wanted someone to just…be…with me. To sit next to me while the power was out and weather the storm together.

Chapter 22

Ada

Emmy and Teddy were sitting on the bed behind me, watching me try on yet another outfit in front of the full-length mirror on the closet door. I’d stopped counting after the tenth. Apparently, Wes had let it slip that we were going out tonight, and apparently, that meant that Emmy and Teddy had to help me get ready. At least, that’s what they told me when they showed up with Diet Cokes and extra outfit choices in hand.

I just went with it—I didn’t know the friendship rules, but I was happy they were here. I missed Cam, though. She and I talked pretty regularly now, and I was starting to feel I could call her my friend.

“I think you should wear the skirt we bought last weekend,” Teddy said. It was a long black suede skirt covered in layers of fringe—very Western, but maybe too on the nose.

“You haven’t tried that on yet, have you?” Emmy asked.

I shook my head. “No, but I don’t know if that’s the vibe for tonight.”

“Fringe is always the vibe,” Teddy said. She stood up andwent for the shopping bag on the floor. Even though I wasn’t living out of my suitcase, putting away my purchases with my other clothes made things feel too permanent. I wasn’t quite ready for that.

Teddy pulled out the skirt, and Emmy made an “oooh” noise. “That’s good,” she said. “You have to wear that.”

Teddy thrust the skirt at me. “Go.” She shooed me with her hand. “Just try it on. What have you got to lose?”

“Fine,” I agreed, and went into the bathroom. I slid off the jeans I was wearing and replaced them with the skirt. I didn’t bother to look in the mirror before opening the bathroom door and walking back into the room. Emmy and Teddy paused their conversation, stood up from the bed, and started to hoot and holler. The two of them could get jobs as professional hype women. They felt so genuine.

“Ada, you are hot, hot, hot,” Emmy said. She fanned herself for good measure.

“Never take that skirt off,” Teddy said. “I’m not kidding. It literally looks like it was made for you, and coming from someone who actually makes clothes, that’s saying something.” Teddy turned me to look in the mirror.

It was perfect.

The skirt hugged my wide hips without being too tight. The fringe followed my every movement, even the smallest ones. It was like a slight breeze was blowing on me at all times.

It made me feel confident.

“It looks awesome,” Emmy said with a smile. She was standing behind me, but Teddy had gone back to the bed.

“Now we just need the right top,” she said, sorting througha pile of shirts she’d brought. “If you had to pick your favorite feature from the waist up, what would it be?”

I had to think about that for a second. No one had ever asked me that before, and I’d never thought about it before. “Honestly,” I started, “my boobs.” As far as boobs went, I thought they were nice. “And my tattoos.”

“Excellent choices,” Teddy said. “And you feel most comfortable wearing black?” I nodded, not sure how I felt about her noticing that. Teddy pulled a top out of the pile and tossed it to me. “This one.”

I went back into the bathroom and put it on over the lacy pink bra—bold for me—that I was wearing tonight. With matching panties.

---