I was true to my word, much to Kimber's distress. By that evening I was clawing at the walls and I didn't shut my eyes even once that night due to the pain in my back. Kimber tried to sooth me, put on movies she thought I would like, and curled up next to me at night. But the real comfort was just her presence, even in spite of her insistence that I drink water every hour that I couldn't keep down
I refused food through the next day but she finally got me to swallow something in the evening. That night I slept, and I lived in dreams so real they were almost lucid. More than once Kimber woke me up because I was crying or shouting.
The day after that I laid in bed all day and didn't move other than to limp to the bathroom. My back was still in burning pain, though the rest of my body was freezing. Kimber, not knowing what else to do, turned the heater all the way up to 95 degrees. She was down to a tank-top and underwear but still I shivered.
The following morning, I woke with no memory of the night before. Kimber told me she had only woken me up only once from my nightmares. It was the fourth day I had been clean and though I was still aching and going through heavy withdrawals my mind felt more clear. Reality was painfully bright and raw and my actions over the last week were agonizing to remember. I apologized to Kimber about what I had said and done so often that it went from amusing her to downright annoying. I had smoked half a carton in the days I'd been detoxing and my throat felt like the smokestack on a coal train.
With my new clarity came some raw realizations. I started to notice Kimber on her phone throughout the day, her expression dubious and worried. I wanted to ask but I couldn't focus on too much intricacy yet. We ate more pizza that day - I kept down an entire two slices - and Kimber made me drink liters of water which also stayed down.
As we neared the week mark Kimber started sleeping in her own bed again. I was remembering some of my dreams and while most of them were nightmares from the years before I also had some pleasant dreams. Of Whitney, and my mother. I was feeling again, and though it hurt more often than not I realized that not all feelings are bad. It was something I had forgotten during my many years of numbness.
The dreams of my family awakened in me an unrelenting ache that I couldn't ignore. I wanted to see them again: my sister and my mother. One was impossible - the other maybe not entirely. The fact that I was less than ten miles away from my mother at any given time warmed me during the cold nights.
And then finally I felt my physical strength begin to return. I was allowing myself to take ibuprofen for the pain (which was not unlike hurling a dart at an elephant). I was getting out of bed, sleeping through the night, and my mind was as crystal clear as ice. The more I thought about our situation the angrier I became; but it wasn't the festival of rage that had been my life up until that moment - it was a simmering, controlled ire that I was able to reign in and compartmentalize, ready to execute at my leisure.
With the mental clarity I became even more convinced that what I had heard that night was real. They - whoever they were now - had simply moved their operation. I told Kimber my belief but as much as she wanted to believe her source was legit, I knew she was afraid of hoping again.
Nine days after the incident on the mountain I came out of the shower to find Kimber pacing and sliding worried glances my way.
"What's the matter?" I asked as I towel dried my hair. "Hey, do you think the front desk here sells razors?"
"I don't know, I'll ask." I could tell she wanted to say more but hesitated.
