Fix Me

“I want to be here.”

“I don’t think you do.”

“I owe you an explanation. Can we talk?”

“My schedule is clear,” I said with a laugh.

“Solarium?”

“Sure.”

We walked into the room, taking our seats and getting comfortable. I was a little nervous about what he was going to say. On the other hand, I was looking forward to actually learning more about him. He had been a closed book about who he was before he landed in California.

“My mom is what some people call a hypochondriac. But unlike a hypochondriac, she actually makes herself sick. She has had more medical problems than any normal human.”

“She seemed healthy when she was here,” I said.

“She is healthy,” he said. “Until she doesn’t want to be. She’s healthy until she decides she isn’t getting enough attention from me. My mother has held me as her emotional hostage for most of my life. I gave up so much because she made me feel like I had to. She used me. I don’t think she ever loved me. She just wanted me to fawn over her and shower her with attention. She wanted to be in control and when she was sick, she had all the control. I would skip classes, call in sick to work, cancel dates, anything she asked whenever she was sick.”

I had a little more understanding about why he was freaked out by my latest episode. I wasn’t sure if it was enough. “Do you think I’m purposely making myself sick?”

“No, definitely not,” he said, but the way he said it made me think he did believe that.

“Luke, I know when you’re lying. You’re lying.”

He sighed. “I’m not lying.”

“You’re not being honest.”

“I just, I don’t know, it’s just, I think this insomnia thing, you’re bringing it on yourself.”

My mouth dropped open. “Are you serious?”

“I know that sounds like an asshole thing to say, but you’ve got a good life here Bree. Your dad loves you. You have a great best friend. You have a lot going for you. You are stressing yourself out for nothing. It doesn’t need to be that way. You have to let go of that stuff my mom said.”

“And what about you?” I asked. “Do I have you?”

“Yes. I’m here, but I need you to fight.”

“What do you mean fight?”

“I mean I think you should talk to a professional about all this stuff you are internalizing. I don’t know how to help you. I can take care of injuries and make you breakfast and make sure you don’t hurt yourself, but I don’t know how to help you feel better.”

“You want me to snap out of it?”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Isn’t it?”

“I want you to talk to me. I want you to tell me what’s on your mind. Talk to me as a friend.”

“Okay. I’m worried about the surgery. I’m worried I won’t be good enough for you. I’m worried I’m going to wake up from the surgery and still be blind and you’re going to leave me.”

I heard him move. His hands took mine and I felt him kneeling in front of me. “Bree, I don’t want to leave you. I want to be with you. I don’t care if you get your sight back or not. I only care about you being healthy and happy. I want you to be happy. I hate seeing you miserable. I hate that I can’t make you better.”

I could feel the tears flowing once again. “I will try. I just get in my head and I can’t find my way out of it. You are right, I have been wallowing. It isn’t something I like to do. I don’t want to do it.”

“I know things are going to be difficult and I know you are going to have some bad days. I have bad days. We all do. When you are feeling like you are drowning, reach out. Reach out before you go under.”