Daron's Guitar Chronicles Volume 12

998 SHE'S MAD

"My advice about your... husband? Spouse? What word are you guys using anyway?"

"Uh, we really haven't settled on one."

"Well, my advice about your Significant Other is you should let him cool off a bit. And let him see his damn shrink. Which he's supposed to this week anyway, while he's in the city."

"You think so?"

"I do. Even without the Jordan thing, D. He arrived here with his head all twisted out of shape."

"He told me he feels emotionally abandoned."

"Did he use those words?"

"Not those exact words but I think that's the gist."

She sighed. "Okay, I'm going to say this before I lose my nerve. Daron. I love you and I value you as a peer and a friend. But I can't get in the middle of you two. I mean, I can't choose between you."

"Um, why would you have to choose between us?"

"Because if you break up I'll have to pick which one of you to stay friends with and that will absolutely fucking suck for everyone, but you and me especially. So you had better get your shit figured out."

"I'm trying."

"And that's the thing I mean about I can't get in the middle. I want you to work out your shit and I want to help if I can but you are both such needy bitches!"

That startled a laugh out of me, even though I didn't feel at all mirthful. "Okay, so tell me how to talk to him. What does he need from me? Besides going back in time and flying to New York with him?"

"You said he feels emotionally abandoned? The problem with that is he can feel like that even when you're there, if you pull into yourself. You're like a pill bug sometimes, D."

"A pill bug?"

"You know what I mean. Like one of those insects that balls up like a teeny armadillo?"

"Um, I can imagine it, anyway."

"If I had to guess, I would guess that you are balled up tighter than a pill bug right now because you've been taking shots left and right from your mom and family and even if he knows it intellectually isn't his fault, emotionally Ziggy feels like you've pulled away from him."

"Huh." It was a plausible theory, I supposed. I didn't feel particularly armored right then. But I was probably a bad judge of that. And even if I wasn't, it was about how it felt to Zig. "But you think I should wait to talk to him until after he sees his therapist?"

"I think it'll be more productive and you'll be less likely to scream at each other, anyway."

"I suppose I should find out when the appointment is."

"I think it's tomorrow but I could be wrong. Barrett knows, I'm sure. One thing that is great about Ziggy, and about sharing a manager with him. I never come across as a drama queen by comparison." She chuckled. "It's nice to not be the center of attention once in a while."

Ziggy had said something to that effect to me when we'd first arrived in Tennessee, but I wondered if part of his current upset wasn't that he'd just spent over a month in the background. Just a hanger-on to my family drama.

I was still mulling that and Sarah's advice not to call him and her theory that I had made myself emotionally inaccessible to protect myself when I got back to the bungalow. I parked in the car port. I could see a light on in the front window.

Claire confronted me the moment I came through the front door. "Where did you go! I woke up and you were gone and I had no idea where you were!"

"I just went up the road to use the payphone to call our landl–"

"You gave me such a fright! What if I'd had an attack while you were gone?"

"An attack? Of–?"

"I might vomit so hard that I rupture myself," she babbled, gripping the edges of my jacket like she was going to drown if she didn't hang on. "I might bleed to death. My spleen might give out. I might have a seizure."

And on it went. Far as I know she had never had a seizure and that wasn't a symptom we were expecting, but maybe she was serious about rupturing herself. I didn't even think her spleen was involved. As with Ziggy I reminded myself the facts didn't matter as much as the way she felt. And what she felt most was... fear. She was terrified. This wasn't pearl-clutching, hand-on-forehead drama queen acting. This was a total breakdown.

I ended up hugging her when she broke down into tears. What could I say? It was all going to be okay? That was too close to flat out lying to her. I settled for, "I'm here. I'm right here."

Her sobs eventually devolved to hiccups and then to breaths with the occasional gasp. And when she could use words again she said, "I know it's coming. I'm going to waste away to nothing while hooked up to a pile of machines in a hospital or I'm going to die here, choking on my own blood from organ failure. Or worse."

Or worse? I didn't want to know what worse she could imagine. She was shaking.

Remember when I said we had been trying to find a grocery store that was next to a pharmacy? I didn't tell you about the pharmacy. We'd picked up a couple of prescriptions. One was for nausea.

One was for pain.

"Claire," I said, trying to let go of her but she wasn't letting go of me. "Claire, why don't you take one of the pills we got today."

"Those are for when the pain gets bad," she said, voice shaking. "Because it will."

"I'd say you're in mental anguish right now, and that counts as pain."

She looked up at me with her wrecked eyes then. "Are you sure?"

Should I have known better? Should I have said something else? "I'm sure."

"Are you sure?" she repeated.

"Yes, I'm sure. Come on. Let's have some chicken soup and Vicodin. Cures for all ailments."

I got a chuckle out of her with that. "Well, if you say so."

I counted how many vikes were in the bottle. Not very many, truth be told. I started making a list of people to call tomorrow and I put Flip at the top of the list.