Page 124 of The Publicity Stunt
I give her a look that says,don’t make this harder than it needs to be.
She scoffs. “Fine.” She starts fishing around inside her purse and my eyes zero in on the ring on her finger. A small reminder of the girl I fell in love with.
She gives me a number and starts to head out.
“When are you going to be back?” I ask.
“I don’t know.” Her hand is on the doorknob but she hesitates to open it.
“April.”
She turns around. “You need to stop treating me like a child.”
“I’m worried about you.”
“I can take care of myself,” she insists.
I stand up. “Like you have in the past?”
Silence.
April shakes her head, running her fingers through her hair. “We’re really gonna have this fight again?”
“I’m not trying to fight with you, April,” I say. “There is no fight here. It’s just you being stubborn as fuck.”
“How am I being stubborn? I just want to go out for a little bit.”
“Oh, yeah? Like you have every night for the past two months? What are you doing to do this time? Get drunk, call me a hundred times, then pass out? Or have one of these new fucking friends drop you home at four in the morning?”
The words are harsh, but they are true.
“You don’t get it,” she says.
“You’re right, I don’t. But I know the person you are. And deep down, that person is still there. I just want her to come back.”
More silence. I just want my fucking April back.
“Have you taken your meds today?” I try changing the subject. When she doesn’t respond, I fucking lose it. My mouth twists in a firm scowl and I walk to the bathroom, grabbing her bottle of pills. “I’ll stop treating you like a child when you stop acting like one.”
April takes a step back. “I’m not taking them.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because I can’t drink if I do.”
My face goes slack. Is she fucking serious right now? “Listen to yourself, April. Take the pill,” I repeat.
“No.”
“April, just have the fucking meds.”
“No. You don’t understand.” April presses a fist to her lips, shaking her head repeatedly. “Those meds put me to sleep, Parker. I’m not having them.”
I almost soften at her words. Since everything happened, April has hardly slept for more than four hours, and even that can’t be considered sleep. Most nights she wakes up screaming and thrashing. She refuses to see a doctor or talk to a therapist, and as much as I want to help her, I don’t know how.
Every day it tears me apart, knowing I can’t help my friend, no matter how much I want to.
I don’t know what to do.
