Page 22 of Don't Love Me
I felt a warmth fill my chest then. In the quiet morning, with newly fallen snow, Marc wasn’t being sullen or grumpy. Instead he was being thoughtful. These moments happened between us, but they were pretty rare.
After a few hours, lots of fun and laughs, and a missing mitten that left my hand exposed—which Marc replaced with his glove—we made our way to the carriage house. George made us hot chocolate with extra marshmallows.
It was the best day ever.
* * *
At the hospital
Ashleigh
When I woke up, I realized immediately what had happened. I hadn’t been in the hospital for an attack in years, but I remembered how hospital rooms smelled. My chest hurt with each breath, but I forced myself to breathe through the pain.
Because breathing felt better than not breathing.
I turned my head, expecting to see George. When it had gotten so bad, when my inhaler stopped working, I’d called him. I could barely say anything I’d been so out of breath, but he’d known immediately what was happening and called 911.
Instead, Marc was there. Still in his jacket and tie from earlier tonight, although his tie was askew.
He looked wrecked and I got it. He thought he’d done this. That he’d said those awful things to me and triggered my attack. It probably had. I’d been crying so hard it got in front of my breathing. I couldn’t catch up. No matter how hard I’d tried to calm myself down. Instead, all I could manage was short pants until even that became laborious.
I breathed in deep and felt my chest expand. I was going to be okay. Whatever medicine they’d given me was working. The attack was behind me.
Marc’s head lifted and he saw I was awake.
He got up and walked over to the bed and just looked down at me.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said it. I don’t. I just snapped.”
I nodded. It was strange, but in all the times he’d been mean to me, curt with me, had snapped at me, he’d never once said he was sorry. This was weird. But a good weird.
“It’s not your fault. It just happened,” I whispered. It felt weird to talk. Like I wasn’t ready to test if I had enough air to do it.
“It didn’t just happen. I was awful and I hurt you. I saw that I hurt. Iwantedto hurt you. Why do I do that, Ash?”
He didn’t know, but I did.How ironic,I thought. That even though I was two years younger than him, I saw so clearly what he didn’t see.
Marc thought he hated me. But he didn’t. He didn’t hate me at all. I knew it, like a secret tucked deep inside my heart.
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not. You could have…shit, Ash, you could have…”
“I didn’t,” I said.
“Were you scared?”
I nodded and he nodded back but didn’t say anything else.
“Stay with me while I sleep?” I asked him.
“George is trying to get ahold of your father.”
“I don’t need him,” I whispered, feeling the influence of the drugs wash over me.
He nodded and pulled the chair closer and sat. I went to sleep knowing he would be there when I woke in the morning.
