THE SPACE BETWEEN

Chapter 52

Trigger Warning(s):  Explicit language

(Missi's POV)

A week had passed since the surrogate debacle and thankfully nothing had shown up in any media sources. Although Shannon and I were sleeping in the same bed there was nothing more going on than two bodies coexisting in one place. I was relieved that he hadn't made any advances—semiconscious or awake—and I interpreted his self-control as an indication that he understood the gravity of the situation this time. I still couldn't sleep much and spent most of my time watching television downstairs late at night into the early morning hours.

We would acknowledge each other's presence by exchanging brief, fake pleasantries, and even advised each other when we went somewhere and returned. Shannon went to the center daily and most times to Jared's as well. He appeared to be committed to maintaining sobriety, but I was battle scared and couldn't invest any hope that it would last. With the encouragement of his therapist, Shannon had put together a stress management activity in the form of directing drum circles. He was happy that they were well received and the discussion we had about them was the most we'd talked about anything in a while.

He was making progress and I was stuck. I'd been avoiding mirrors, but the last glance I'd taken had shocked me. My eyes looked like they were sinking into my skull. The insomnia and depression were taking their toll, so I made a doctor's appointment. I even reached out to my touchstone, Chelsea, who insisted that I come visit.

I thought it was best to steer clear of any drama that might occur over me leaving for a day and a half, so I left Shannon a note:

'I'm going to Chelsea's. I'll be staying over and then I have an appointment downtown on Friday. I'm not sure what time I'll get home. M.'

***

I was on my way to Chelsea's and noticed I was doing 85 mph on a road I'd normally be wary of doing more than 70. Not only were my emotions flatlined but my mind had taken a backseat as well. I selected a very dated playlist to switch things up and hopefully engage my mind more. It seemed to be working until chills ran up my spine as the lyrics of  Yellowcard's song , Ten, struck a cord. Tears started rolling down my face. The song resonated much more deeply now that I'd—we'd—lost a child. I could only imagine how Shannon would react if he heard this father-to-be's thoughts after suffering such a tragic loss. I yanked the cord out of my phone and opted to listen to the radio station that came on automatically instead of the gut-wrenching words and willed myself to keep going.

As I was driving up the lane toward Chelsea's house I thought I was seeing ghosts. The semitransparent figures were of Shannon and I standing different places on various occasions. As I watched them I was able to recall details of those times like the tone of his voice when he teased me and the feeling of his hand on my back when we walked together. There'd rarely been a time in my life when men with addiction issues hadn't charmed me. Was this impromptu trip down memory lane some kind of omen warning me that yet another end was looming on the horizon? I fought back the tears that threatened to fall down my face as I parked the car. Chelsea rushed out to greet me with a big smile.

'Welcome, my sweet!' She chirped happily as she threw her arms around me.

'Hey.' I replied with forced enthusiasm which didn't go unnoticed.

'Well, aren't you the bluebird of happiness today? Did someone wee in your corn flakes this morning?'

'No, but someone keeps taking a major poo on my life.' I said half-jokingly as I lifted my overnight bag out of the backseat.

Chelsea grabbed my bag and ushered me to the front door like I was a preschooler. She pulled my jacket off and guided me to the living room. I could tell she was pleased as punch with the setup she had spread out on the coffee table. The two bottles of wine and an amazing selection of delectables on a charcuterie board were the first things to stir my appetite in days.