Daña

Chapter 8 - A Slow Descent and a Big Decision

Hey, guys. I went on a little bit of a hiatus because of life, and I'm still not necessarily back. I'll update, but very slowly. Thank you for giving my story a chance :)

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I woke up in Edith's bed. I was curled up half on my side half on my stomach with my hands cramped under my chest. I rolled over onto my back as memories from the driveway flooded into my head. I sighed and covered my eyes with my hands willing them to go away.

"You're awake," a voice came from the doorway.

Edith was standing with a tray with a couple of mugs and the can of whipped cream from the night before.

"Ugh, my hero," I sit up and reach for the tray in her hands.

She sets it down on the ottoman and hands me my mug. I hum as the warmth from the hot cocoa seeps through my fingers and I take a big whiff of the steam.

"Thank you," I say to Edith.

She responds with a nod and a smile. Her smile doesn't stay for long. "I heard about earlier."

"What did he tell you?"

"Just that you had a panic attack," she took a sip from her mug. "He called me in the middle of class. He was talking so fast I couldn't understand a word he said, but he said that you passed out and he didn't know what to do. I came as quick as I could."

"I'm sorry I interrupted your class time," I frown. "What class were you in?"

"Just Calculus. No biggie," she shrugged.

"Oh," I murmured. "How long was I asleep for?"

"A couple of hours. It's about 2pm."

"That's like 5 hours!" I gaped at Edith. "Why didn't you wake me??"

"Pfft, you're cute." Edith took another sip from her mug.

She was right, that was a dumb question. She wanted me to finally get some sleep. I didn't sleep well though. It felt like at a snap of the fingers I was awake again, just as tired as I was before.

Neither of us spoke for a minute or so.

"Do you wanna go watch a movie?"

"I don't know if that's a good idea. I just want to sleep and wallow in self pity," I set my mug on the bedside table and plopped back on the pillows with a huff. "I can't believe I broke down like that in front of him. He must think I'm a freak now." I covered my eyes with my hands again.

"He does not," Edith disagreed. "He was so genuinely worried about you. When you collapsed, it scared the shit out of him - he absolutely refused to leave your side. He sat right outside of that door until I came up here with cocoa." She set her mug down, too. "That boy likes you. A lot."

I moved my hands away from my eyes.

"I think it'd be good for you to give him a chance."

I took a breath preparing to interrupt her, but she held up her finger. I rolled my eyes.

"I know this is difficult for you. So difficult. But you are not your depression, you are not your anxiety, you are not your illnesses. And he is not your father." She took her mug in her hand and stood from the bed. She held her hand out to me. "Will you come downstairs with me?"

For a moment, I just stared at her hand. Then my thoughts came crashing down on me.

He likes me? Impossible. How could it be? I look down at my body. I had been covered with the duvet, but I knew exactly what was under these sheets. I'm not even that pretty, especially not with this welt on my face. I could never give him what he wants, whatever it was.

Even so... Could it be? Could I let myself hope that Edith was right? I trusted her with my life. She wouldn't say something like that to me and not mean it. And she's right. I'm not my illnesses. I'm not what I've experienced, not matter how it has shaped me into who I am today. This was my life. I needed to start having confidence in myself and in my actions and in other people. Slowly...

I looked up at Edith's patient smile and slowly grasped her hand. I slipped out from under the covers and shoved my feet into my shoes while Edith bent over the ottoman to retrieve the tray she brought up.

I stood pulling at the sleeves of my shirt as she straightened. "You ready?" She smiled at me reassuringly. 

"Lead the way." I picked my mug back up from the side table and nodded at her.

Edith nodded and began down the stairs at an easy pace. We stopped at the kitchen to drop off the tray, then we paused outside the doorway to the downstairs staircase. I looked at her with my brows furrowed in confusion. 

"I just need to tell you that Arthur is down there waiting for us." Edith turned to me to gauge my reaction. 

I sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. I'd have to face him sooner or later. I gestured for Edith to start down the stairs. 

She smiled, took my hand, and went down the stairs at an easy pace like she had before. 

My eyes found him almost immediately as I stepped off the last step. He had his back to me facing the viewing screen of the theater part of the basement speaking rapid fire Spanish into his phone. I was good at Spanish, but I wasn't that good. I let out a sigh at how his voice sounded when he spoke Spanish. He spoke with such fluidity and confidence and power. He made me want to close my eyes and listen to him for an eternity.

Edith and I only took a few steps into the room before Arthur noticed us. The muscles in his back stiffened before he took a deep breath of his own. 

"I have to go. Se deshaga de él," he said into his phone before he pulled it away and pressed the end-call button. That phrase made my brows furrow. Get rid of who? He stuffed his phone into the pocket of his jeans and turned towards us slowly. 

I was barely a few steps away from him when he made his full rotation. I sucked in a quick breath when my eyes met his. They were glowing brighter than I've ever seen them. 

I continued toward him and stopped right in front of him. My hand reached up and cupped his cheek. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as I stroked his cheek bone with my thumb.

"Is everything ok?" I asked. I searched his face, my eyes darting across his skin like the answer would reveal itself in big letters on his forehead. There were barely noticeable bags under his eyes that weren't there this morning. 

He let out a breath and nuzzled his cheek into my palm. He opened his eyes and brought his hand up to my cheek. 

"I'm better now," he replied as he stared into my eyes intensely. His eyes were still glowing, but he looked noticeably less tense than before. 

I let out my own breath this time. I couldn't tear my eyes away from him. His eyes were so beautiful framed by his strong eyebrows and sharp cheekbones. I could stare at him until time ended, and in that moment I didn't care the Edith was in the room or that these feelings thrumming through my body were as sure and intense as the blood that was being pumped through my veins. 

I just repeated Edith's words in my mind. I am not my depression. I am not my anxiety. And this man is not my father. I will not be consumed by my illnesses, not at the expense of him. I smiled.