These Demons

Chapter Twenty-five

**Yesterday was my birthday, so I took a day off to enjoy my time with my family and spend the evening with my favorite movie The Crow from 1994 and some Jack Daniel's. Thank you all so much for getting me to 1K in the meantime. It means a lot and is basically like a birthday gift to me.**

"Andy?"
Did her voice sound so melodic the last time I saw her? 
"Why are you calling me?"
"Well," I suddenly find myself stuttering, "I'm out, and..."
"I know," she finishes the sentence for me. "But didn't you say you didn't want to ever see me again?"

"Yeah, but..."
"But what?" I can't decide whether she sounds confused or angry.
"I figured you'd come over anyway," I admit and I somehow suddenly feel hurt because of her words.
"Do you want me to?"
"Um..." Do I? I have this feeling that I do, but my head says something else.
"Goodbye, Andy." 

"No!" I shout to keep her on the line. The reason why is unknown to me. 
"Why? I thought you didn't want me to be a part of your life."
God, she sounds angry. I didn't mean it like that. 
"But... I want to see you." I can't believe I just said that and, even worse, that it feels right to say it.
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah."
"Can you come-"
"I don't have my car back yet," I interrupts her and she hesitates for a second.
"I'll be at your place in ten minutes. "
"It's LA," I interject, "I'd rather say thirty."

----

Prior to Zoe's arrival, my tension begins to rise again.
Seeing her again after what I said to her and after spending half of the week locked up fills me with a nervous sense of anticipation because I'm afraid of what she'll say and think of me.
When it started is unknown to me, but for some reason I find myself caring greatly about her opinion.

The second I spot her car in the driveway, my heart skips a beat, and when I see her getting out, her dark curls glossy and satiny in the late October sun, I have to keep my shit together and stop myself from running to her.
What the hell is happening to me?

"Hi," I quietly say at the door and lead her inside to the kitchen where I brew both of us some coffee.
"I'm glad you changed your mind about me," she answers instead of greeting me and I feel a strange flutter in my stomach at her words. "Yeah, I'm sorry," I apologize, "I was just not really myself that day. It was all... too much for me, you know?"
She slowly nods and grabs her steaming mug.
"But how have the three days in there been for you?"

Sitting down, I think about that for a moment. How have the days been? It's a difficult question.
"I made a friend," I mention and she chuckles. "That's not exactly the reason why you were there, Andy." 

"I know," I agree, "But it just kind of, clicked, you know? We understand each other. He's someone who really listens."
"And I'm not?" Zoe frowns.
"No, of course you are," I quickly say, "But on a different level."

"What kind of friend is that guy?"
"Well, he has depression," I explain, "And is suicidal."
When I notice Zoe's worried expression, I add: "But he's recovering. They'll relocate him to a proper hospital that's specialized on that kind of stuff next week. More therapy for his specific issues, more freedom and independence and all that, you know? He's really working on his problems."
That makes me sound like a proud dad, which is really weird. 

"And are you too?"
No.
"Yes. I've been eating."
"You have?" Zoe seems to doubt that. "Have you gained any weight too?"
My fingers cramp the cup so hard that my knuckles turn white.
"I don't know," I almost whisper.
Of course I know.
I weigh myself all the time.
I haven't gained anything and I need to lose more within the next few days. At the end of the week, I want to be below the awful 130.

"But you will continue therapy, right?"
"Yeah," I half lie because in fact, I did agree to do that, but I don't think I actually will.
"I'll go to counseling."
"Good," she states, "Because you need it."