Never Met a Girl Like Her | ✔️

(42)

H E A T H

It had been two days since Leonie was admitted to hospital. She was now well enough to be transferred to a rehabilitation center about three hours out of town. She'd been showing me pictures of it online. It looked nice. The sort of place you'd see celebrities checking into after a few too many stints had gone public. She kept telling me that it could have been worse and to me, worse was dead. So she was right. It could have been.

In typical Leonie fashion, she was using humor as a coping method. But there was a definite shift in her overall demeanor. Something a little bit darker perhaps. But I had faith that she would come back from this. I had to have that faith. Not just for myself but for her. If I behaved as if she was some lost soul that had let her depression win, she'd feel it and it wouldn't help her at all.

The dynamic between us had been hard to navigate. I wasn't sure where we stood in terms of relationship. Sometimes I'd find myself wanting to lean in and kiss her. Or hold her hand. Or tell her that I love her. But at the same time, I didn't want to push. Every so often I'd see her watching me. She'd flinch as if she was going to reach out as well and I think what was holding her back, was the fact that she felt guilty for how she'd ended things.

I knew her well enough to know that was how she was looking at me. With guilt.

"Yeah, hi. I'm Heath Gilmore. My— girlfriend is being admitted this afternoon," I told the kitchen facilitator for mental health and well-being at the rehab center. I'd been passed from person to person for the last half hour while I tried to get hold of anyone who knew about the menu. "I was told that you were the person to talk to about the meals?"

"Yeah..." she sounded older but soft. Just a little unsure. "How can I help?"

I sat down on the row of plastic chairs outside of Leonie's room. She had her friends visiting to say goodbye before she left. I thought I'd give her the space to do so. "I wanted to ask if there was an option for fries on your breakfast menu?"

"Oh," she chuckled. "Nope. Just dinner. Not every night. But a few times a week."

"Right," I ran a hand down my face. "I was hoping that you'd consider putting them on the breakfast menu. If it wouldn't be too much trouble?"

She paused for a moment. "Um. Well that's not really something that—"

"Please? Leonie is— she's scared. I know she is. She's about to spend the next three months in rehab and I know that it might seem like a silly thing to request but this girl, she loves fries. She'll eat them at all hours of the day and I know that if she had access to them at breakfast, well it might make the smallest amount of difference to her comfort and adjustment. Please."

The line was silent for a long moment. I thought she might have hung up on me, probably reasonable considering I was rambling about the importance of fries. But then I heard her tapping on a keyboard in the background. "I'm sure we can put it on the breakfast menu. I've made a note to have a chat to the breakfast chef. Alright?"

I smiled and exhaled with relief. "Thank you. Really. I appreciate it."

"Anything else?"

"No. Thank you again."

We said goodbye and ended the phone call. I startled as I stood up and realized that Meredith was standing beside me. She smiled. "She's very lucky to have you."

"It's nothing," I waved a dismissive hand and slipped my phone into my hoodie pocket.

She shook her head. "It's not nothing. I'm so grateful that she has you," her voice took on a little tremor and I knew that she was about to thank me again. She'd been doing it repetitively for the last three days. "I just don't know what I would have done if you weren't there when she needed you."