Manic Attack

XIV. Abercrombie & Ditch

Looking down at myself, my legs splayed in awkward angles as I sat in a pathetic puddle of sweat and probably even saliva, I silently wished for the memory eraser pen from Men in Black. This was beyond the worldly realms of embarrassing. It was embarrassing on a galactic level. Empathic aliens on a distant planet were crying diamond tears out of second-hand embarrassment right now.

Edward cleared his throat. Slanting lights glistened against his cheekbones and cast an angled shadow of his jawline across his strong neck. "Okay," he said, "I should go."

"Yes. You should." Mel's words were clipped. Her flirty singsong voice seemed like a distant dream. "Thank you, Edward, for coming to me."

I didn't have to look at the man in question to know he had turned a vivid shade of red. "I've seen it before. My neighbor, she's an agoraphobe. I know what to do it's just—"

"You were upset and didn't want to get involved?"

"Yes—No! I don't know."

But I did. If Edward Moseby decided to help me, it would violate the No Touching contract. Since I had just gotten home from an intimate date with Death, it came as a stark realization how selfish this man was. To be thinking of his interests before moving to help someone in distress was a very crappy thing to do. Still, the fact that he had gone back to call Melissa to help me had to mean something or, the lack of oxygen had filled me with unrealistic optimism.

"Um," he began slowly, "I know it's not my place to say..."

"Yes?" Mel let out an obvious sigh. She was growing restless.

"Please don't give her any benzos. They do more harm than good."

Mel shared a glance with me. Her beautiful eyes widened in surprise while her lips parted to say something. I could only return her cryptic look with a puzzled one. "Of course," she said eventually. Her rigid tone had softened and warmed. "Just so you know I didn't get the diplomas hanging in my office off of E-Bay."

Edward failed to sense the sarcasm. After a muffled, hasty apology, he turned his back on us and retraced the route he had gone down not too long ago- past the wooden benches, jolly drinkers, and around The Dubliner.

We watched him disappear into the growing crowd before Mel looked at me with a shake of her head. "How long?" she asked.

I looked down at my dusty trousers. A stray pebble had lodged itself into one of the rips in my jeans. Poking a finger at it, I said, "A few weeks."

"How often?"

"This one was the scariest."

"Enough for you to draw comparisons, then."

I chewed on my bottom lip. "One may say so."

Mel exhaled slowly, got to her feet and lifted me to mine. "Let's go. You are going to tell me every single detail over a bucket of ice cream, or five."

"What about your diet?" I protested as she pulled me in the opposite direction from The Dubliner. "Mel, you don't have to. I know you're busy—"

"Busy?" She spun around, glaring. "Monica, you better etch my next words into that snail-paced brain of yours. Calories can be shed and appointments can be rescheduled, but what happens if I lose you? I will lose my goddamn mind and fixing that takes a hell of a long time. Trust me, I should know."

I let her take the lead as she dragged me towards an unknown destination. I was glad she was ahead of me; the tears went unnoticed before I swiftly wiped them away.

The steady thrum of her car's engine lulled me into a deep, dreamless sleep, only being coaxed out of it by Melissa's tender words, letting me know that we had reached home. My mouth had turned sour, my jaw ached from the awkward angle I had knocked out in but my head felt weightless. Rather than falling asleep from exhaustion, the relief of finally having Melissa back by my side had lifted the weight that I had been lugging around for so long. Eyeing the paper bag in Melissa's arms while inserting the key into the door, I was ready to lose sleep and gain calories with my best friend.