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.
'Sit, sit.' She motioned to the couch and poured me a big glass of wine.
'We've come a long way since the days when we inhaled chips, pretzels and candy bars to counteract the trying times in our lives.' I smiled.
'But never to be forgotten. I knew when I found someone who could simultaneously bitch, cry and laugh that we were going to be steadfast friends.'
'The good old/bad old days.' I forced a smile at the thought of how history seemed to be repeating itself.
'You didn't elaborate on the phone, but now that you're here I'm going to ask. What's going on?'
'You're so subtle sometimes.' I took a swig of wine and rolled my eyes. 'I mentioned surrogacy to Shannon.'
'Oh good! How did that go?'
'Like a comedic nightmare.'
Chelsea looked at me questioningly.
'He threw a fit and stormed out. When he returned he had a girl with him that he proposed could be our surrogate and I was welcome to join in the conception process.'
Chelsea lunged for a napkin as she tried not to choke on an olive. Her reaction was quite the opposite of what I expected, and I watched as she was consumed by laughter.
'You can't make something like that up.' She gasped for air.
She was right, this really wasn't all that far removed from some of the ridiculous shit I'd been through with my ex, and her laughter was contagious. With all the choking and snorting going on the situation seemed even funnier, but that only lasted a short time before I broke down in tears.
'Now, now. Shannon may turn himself around.' Chelsea squeezed my shoulder.
'He said he blacked out that night, but I can't let go of the thought that he'd already screwed that girl before bringing her home. He just doesn't want to remember.'
'Come right out and ask him then.'
'I'm afraid if I started going off on him that I wouldn't be able to stop. Why add more fuel to the fire? Maybe eventually we'll settle into a place other couples do. We'll simply learn to tolerate each other enough to coexist peacefully. I don't know.'
'Don't try and tell me you don't deserve to be happy. You need more than that. When you lived in your previous situation it slowly destroyed you. Is that what you really want?'
'I honestly don't know what I want anymore. I don't have any interest in anything lately. I just exist. I finally made an appointment with a psychiatrist to talk about my depression and insomnia.'
'See...you knew what needed done. That's a step in the right direction.' Chelsea said sympathetically.
'Was that your phone or mine?' Chelsea stood to find her phone while I dug in my purse for mine.
'It's mine. It's Shannon.' I said as I fished my phone out of my purse.
'Did you make it to Chel's safely?' He wrote.
'Yes.' I replied quickly.
'Is the appointment with a lawyer?'
'WHAT THE FUCK!' I screeched.
'What? What's wrong?' Chelsea practically jumped on my shoulder to read the text. 'Oh Lordy.'
'No, should it be?' I typed quickly.
'Don't send that!' Chelsea scolded.
'Why not?' I snapped at her. 'If that's what he thinks then that's it. If he's done, then I'm done too!'
'He's not saying that! He obviously thinks you're contemplating ending things. Dammit Missi, don't send that!!!' Chelsea knocked the phone out of my hands before I could send the message.
'Then what the hell should I say?' I asked angrily as Chelsea and I reached for my phone at the same time.
'A simple no will suffice.' Chelsea advised. 'If he wants to know more he'll ask. Hurry up and type it before he starts wondering why you're hesitating.'
'I'll just tell him you're batting my phone around.'
'Missi, so help me.' Chelsea's teeth clenched.
I typed the word 'no' as the great wise one instructed and pushed send.
'Phew! Sometimes you make me crazy, especially when it comes to you two trying to communicate without flying off the handle. I need another glass of wine!' Chelsea went straight for her glass and polished it off in one gulp.
My phone pinged again, and I braced myself before looking at his reply.
'I'm relieved. I hope in time you can forgive me.'
I teared up, which prompted Chelsea to stand over my shoulder again.
'See why I didn't want you to send your first response? He's not done Missi, and deep in your heart I don't think you are either. Give him more time.' Chelsea's voice was calm and reassuring.
'I hope so too.' I typed and looked at Chelsea.
She nodded and I pushed send. The next text came quickly.
'I love you.' It read.
'I love you too.' I typed with tears streaming down my face.
'Good girl.' Chelsea squeezed my shoulder as I hit send. 'More wine?'
'Yes.' I blubbered as she passed me a box of tissues. 'What if he just wants to make sure I didn't change my plans and was on my way home. Who knows if Cheryl and her intact reproductive system aren't there ready and waiting?'
'Oh my, I definitely have some work to do on you.' Chelsea sighed.
***
'What do you say we do something we love today? Retail therapy and fine dining?' Chelsea looked over her morning cup of coffee.
'I've reeled myself in from retail therapy. I returned a lot of things to Nieman-Marcus before I drove here. Shannon had a fit when he saw the massive delivery that arrived and given the tense situation I thought having the money would be a better option.'
'I can see what you mean about getting mixed signals after hearing he got upset. But you don't need the money. You're always welcome to stay with me.'
'Don't take this the wrong way, but when it comes to licking my wounds I prefer to be alone.'
'You think I haven't figured that out by now?'
'Ok, yeah, whatever.'
'Stubborn to the bitter end.' Chelsea rolled her eyes. 'Let's get some sun and just relax then. We will be going out for dinner though.'
'Yes, Mother.' I rolled my eyes at her.
***
Driving into LA felt like a descent into a pit of monotony. The sun was doing a piss-poor job breaking through the layer of haze hanging over the city. Maybe the overcast ceiling served a purpose. Maybe it was keeping the bizarre mix of people from making their way to saner parts of the universe. As the GPS guided me to the psychiatrist's office, I hoped this wouldn't be a repeat of the last time I was seeking for help.
Trepidation comes when contemplating facing a process that basically feels like you're baring your soul to an unknown person. Knowing they're going to scrutinize how you present yourself as well as your demeanor and body language is unnerving. Why wasn't there an app for prescribing medication? At the very least there should be a confessional booth to act as insulation between the patient and doctor.
The psychiatrist was professional, yet not in a way that was off-putting. I mirrored his calm demeanor and got through the appointment with a limited amount of discomfort. He prescribed an antidepressant that I'd never tried and Ambien for sleep. I'd heard good and bad things about Ambien and hoped I wasn't one of the people who sleepwalked or did strange things they had no memory of doing. I was desperate for a full night's sleep and willing to try anything though.
I arrived home in the early evening and was relieved to find Shannon wasn't home. I wanted to be extremely comfortable and changed into a long, ratty old t-shirt. I made something to eat so I wouldn't be taking the antidepressant on an empty stomach. Afterward, I sat by the pool hoping for an immediate transformation to my happier self. If only the results would come that quickly, but I knew there was usually a waiting period of weeks or months to feel any difference. The benefits never came as quickly as the side effects. In the past some antidepressants had made me drowsy for days until I adjusted to them, and some I wasn't able to adjust to at all. It was like a shooting match to find the right drug or combination of drugs.
Eventually I went inside and turned on Netflix. Shannon still wasn't home, but I was more than ready to sleep. I fished the Ambien out of the pharmacy bag and took the bottle and the information sheet with me and plopped down on the couch. When I tried reading the small print on the information sheet it seemed extremely hard to focus, so I just popped one of the pills and started watching a random crime series.
(Shannon's POV)
It had been a long yet productive day. I was seeing improvement in the temperament of some of the people participating in the drum circles. They seemed more upbeat and focused. The feeling it gave me of helping them cope was something I was enjoying and had taken the focus off my problems while I was there. Jared had been in a good mood today at practice, so it was a win/win day thus far.
I saw Missi's car when I pulled in the gate. I was glad she'd stuck to her plan and hadn't come up with someplace else to go as opposed to coming home. Time would tell if seeing Chelsea had been beneficial. I cringed to think of what all she might have told her about what was going on between us. I hoped the texts we'd exchanged last night had cleared the air somewhat as well. I was in a better place recently and I was hopeful that we'd exchange more than a few sentences tonight and that she'd tell me what her appointment was for. I bounded up the steps, anxious to see what I'd find.
'Hello.' I called out as I entered the kitchen.
There was no answer, but I heard the television.
'Hello.' I rounded the corner into the living room and saw the back of Missi's head leaned against the couch.
'Hey.' I said softly as I walked around to face her.
I was somewhat concerned when I saw she was out cold, so I stooped down and touched her face. Although she stirred only slightly I was at eye level with the end table and noticed two pill bottles. One I wasn't sure about, but the other was Ambien. That's what had knocked her out so hard. The question I had about the reason for her having an appointment was no longer necessary. I was glad she was willing to take care of herself instead of someone having to convince her. There was no way I would have offered my advice knowing that what I'd done had set off the adverse reaction she was having, just like the loss of the baby had set off mine.
'Come on, princess. I'm pretty sure it's lights out for you for a while.' I spoke softly as I pulled back the quilt covering her so I could carry her upstairs. 'Upsy-daisy.' I groaned as I lifted her up.
I placed her down gently on the bed and tried straightening the covers around her before tucking her in.
'Get some sleep.' I whispered as I kissed her cheek. 'I love you.'
As I stripped off my clothes to take a shower, I was astonished how quickly the direction of my mind had changed from concern to wonderment. Would I be able to get away with anything sexually with Missi in this state? I slapped myself mentally and shrugged it off. Although this was a classic example of how truly worthy I was of Missi's nickname for me, it had been a while.