Chapter 9
I am an idiot.
This is the one thing running through my head as I stare wide-eyed at my intruder. I'm a complete moron.
Great way to play it cool Em.
Somewhere between my self-amused laughter and the door opening, my body has managed to catapult itself into a sitting position, my eyes pulled beyond the point of open-- so my eyeballs feel like they could actually fall out.
Oh yeah, that's me..... cool, calm, and collected.
"Do you need a doctor?"
Now that, I think, is what a composed exterior is. For a minute I struggle to make my words come out. For some reason it's easier to talk subconsciously.
"Jason."
I finally manage to croak out his name and fall back to the bed defeated. He waits patiently by the door, his perfectly stoic face studying mine so closely it hurts.
"No."
Satisfied, he turns and closes the door.
The dialog in my head runs like a censor's dream. I've been found out. It's over. My dream is done. Back to reality.
For the second time in a day-- well, maybe not a day, maybe a while, I don't really know-- I feel like vomiting.
Instead, I cry.
"Emily?"
He sits down beside me. There's something all together comforting and frustrating about the way he says my name. Granted-- he's not trying to pacify me-- not saying the usual stupid things people do-- but he's also not trying at all.
I guess I can kinda see Ned's brick wall analogy.
At least he's a nice brick wall.....
For a second I feel my body lurch forward, but I consciously stop myself. No... No. Something has to change. And how many times have I flung myself into Jason's arms, sobbing? My god, the man is beginning to look like a walking Kleenex.
"You okay?"
His patience frustrates me, and I fight the urge to scream at him. No I'm not 'okay'... When have I ever been 'okay'?
The thought makes me laugh to myself, and when I look up at Jason, I note his expectant stare.
Well, maybe not expectant-- he's never expectant.
"They think I'm crazy, right?"
My own question takes me by surprise, but I match his indifferent demeanor. Two can play this game.
A minute of stony silence passes before he answers.
"Yes."
Leave it to Jason to break the news gently.
I'm vaguely aware of my own laughter as he leans forward in his chair.
"They said you were sick with some sort of psychological disorder..... That you might have something called a Somatoform Disorder-- which means that your body isn't sick, but your mind is, and it made you shut down."
I stare blankly at him. Now I know why it's so easy for him to talk to Michael like an adult-- because he talks to adults like children. I don't want the explanation-- I didn't ask for it-- I don't want to know why I'm sick--
I'd much rather prefer to be oblivious.
And god, it was so much easier to be oblivious while I was asleep.
I shut my eyes for a minute, opening them to find a new layer of tears obstructing my view. I quickly swipe them away, a whole new determination forming in my gut.
"Jason-- I need you to do something for me...."
I am an idiot.
This is the one thing running through my head as I stare wide-eyed at my intruder. I'm a complete moron.
Great way to play it cool Em.
Somewhere between my self-amused laughter and the door opening, my body has managed to catapult itself into a sitting position, my eyes pulled beyond the point of open-- so my eyeballs feel like they could actually fall out.
Oh yeah, that's me..... cool, calm, and collected.
"Do you need a doctor?"
Now that, I think, is what a composed exterior is. For a minute I struggle to make my words come out. For some reason it's easier to talk subconsciously.
"Jason."
I finally manage to croak out his name and fall back to the bed defeated. He waits patiently by the door, his perfectly stoic face studying mine so closely it hurts.
"No."
Satisfied, he turns and closes the door.
The dialog in my head runs like a censor's dream. I've been found out. It's over. My dream is done. Back to reality.
For the second time in a day-- well, maybe not a day, maybe a while, I don't really know-- I feel like vomiting.
Instead, I cry.
"Emily?"
He sits down beside me. There's something all together comforting and frustrating about the way he says my name. Granted-- he's not trying to pacify me-- not saying the usual stupid things people do-- but he's also not trying at all.
I guess I can kinda see Ned's brick wall analogy.
At least he's a nice brick wall.....
For a second I feel my body lurch forward, but I consciously stop myself. No... No. Something has to change. And how many times have I flung myself into Jason's arms, sobbing? My god, the man is beginning to look like a walking Kleenex.
"You okay?"
His patience frustrates me, and I fight the urge to scream at him. No I'm not 'okay'... When have I ever been 'okay'?
The thought makes me laugh to myself, and when I look up at Jason, I note his expectant stare.
Well, maybe not expectant-- he's never expectant.
"They think I'm crazy, right?"
My own question takes me by surprise, but I match his indifferent demeanor. Two can play this game.
A minute of stony silence passes before he answers.
"Yes."
Leave it to Jason to break the news gently.
I'm vaguely aware of my own laughter as he leans forward in his chair.
"They said you were sick with some sort of psychological disorder..... That you might have something called a Somatoform Disorder-- which means that your body isn't sick, but your mind is, and it made you shut down."
I stare blankly at him. Now I know why it's so easy for him to talk to Michael like an adult-- because he talks to adults like children. I don't want the explanation-- I didn't ask for it-- I don't want to know why I'm sick--
I'd much rather prefer to be oblivious.
And god, it was so much easier to be oblivious while I was asleep.
I shut my eyes for a minute, opening them to find a new layer of tears obstructing my view. I quickly swipe them away, a whole new determination forming in my gut.
"Jason-- I need you to do something for me...."