Thoughts ricochet around my skull. Concepts, feelings, morals collide. I am overwhelmed.
Cameron has left; for now at least. The task lying ahead of her is a difficult one – she has decided to end things with Chase, feeling it unfair to continue our affair while being in a relationship that has lost its meaning. Her choice - not mine. I was surprisingly content to share, mostly because she made it evident where her feelings lay. We're more compatible than she and Chase could ever be.
It has been a day of difficult conversations for both of us. Huntington's, death, cutting, the past and the present; what the future holds. Overwhelming. Too much for me to think about. Frightening memories and possibilities.
Panic bubbles up.
I'm sitting on my bathroom floor, scalpel in hand. My coping mechanism, however dysfunctional. I know I'll feel better afterwards.
Deep breath.
I choose a site and cut. Pain and blood well up across the line. Nociception. My blood is red. Plasma. Platelets. Erythrocytes. Leukocytes. It's amazing how much is contained in these little beads which are melding on my leg. A rivulet slides down my thigh. I watch, entranced.
Another cut follows the first.
An hour later I am cleaned with rubbing alcohol, held together with gauze and tape. All traces of damage are removed from my bathroom.
Cameron's eyes are red when she returns. I open my arms to her and she cries into my neck. Endings are hard, even when they are of your own volition.
She finds me out later as I am changing for bed, her mouth tightening as she spots the gauze. Her fingertips explore tenderly. "May I see?"
I shake my head in silence.
She contemplates for a moment. "Can you try and explain why?"
I climb into the bed beside her and try to come up with an explanation.
"You know how if you blow up a balloon too much it pops?" She nods. "If you bleed off the air, the balloon gets further from popping." I take a deep breath. "For me, negative emotions are like a balloon that's close to popping. Cutting is bleeding off the air." I pause a moment to see if she wants to interject. She doesn't. "I know it's not functional, but it is a coping mechanism. Like being bitchy and sarcastic to keep from being vulnerable to people."
"Why did you do it today?" she questions, trying her hardest to understand.
I shrug. "We talked about some difficult things. You were doing something painful that I felt like I was contributing to. It was just too much for me to handle."
Cameron nods again. "Okay. I can understand that." Her fingers trace the bandage under my pyjamas. "But I'd like it if we could explore alternative methods of siphoning off your negative emotions."
I smile wryly. "Me too."
She cuddles into me, comforted, and I turn off the light.
Cameron sleeps. I do not; voices in my head telling me I've said too much, let her in too far. I push them aside. Of anyone I could let in, she makes the most sense. She doesn't push too hard. She asks gently, stops when I get uncomfortable.
Night disappears in silence.
We spend hours each day just talking. Learning. She tells me stories.
I hear about her family. Mother. Father. Brother. Her husband who died too soon and left a hole she couldn't fill. He inspired her move to medicine. She couldn't save him, but she could save others. She still misses him.
We discuss House. He's like us. Lonely – but he likes it that way, or believes he does. Really, if he can't have Stacey, he wants Cuddy. He inspired Cameron's interest, her care. I dislike him intensely, but he can teach me. He tests my walls, invades my privacy. Too close to truths he can't discover.
I tell her pieces of my past. My hatred of my mother shocks her. I don't think Cameron has the ability to hate. She is surprised I don't talk to my father. I tell her he doesn't want to hear from me. I lost his respect by living my life instead of watching my mother fade day by day, year by year. He loved her more than he could ever love me. I graduated high school and left him in peace with his memories.
She suggests I call sometime. I shrug and say I'll think about it, and surprise myself by actually doing so. Maybe one day I'll find the courage to pick up the phone and dial.
Cameron calls her parents to tell them she broke up with Chase. Yes, for someone else. Yes, another doctor at the hospital. Her name is Dr. Remy Hadley. Her mother hangs up on her. Cameron's face crumples. I wipe away her tears and tell her they'll come around.
She goes home to run away her pain.
Her brother calls that night and makes her laugh. He says it's hot she's into girls and wants to talk to me. She passes me the phone and he makes me laugh too. I tell him to come and visit. He promises he will.
Our relationship is emotionally deep and physically slow. Cameron is afraid she won't know what to do. I promise her she doesn't need to worry, but that we can wait as long as she wants.
I take her dancing and teach her to rock climb. She teaches me to laugh at myself. We try and learn to cook, but our disasters culminate in a mutual decision to order in.
When her brother finally comes to visit, we take time off work and end up having a day-long Playstation war followed by drinks at a local bar from which we can stumble home at three am. The next day we take him out of town and stay at a resort. He treats me like a sister and gives me noogies. I watch in amusement as he and Cameron fight over the remote control. We miss him when he leaves.
I ask if we should tell people at work we're going out. Cameron shrugs and says she doesn't mind. We decide not to.
I am at ease. I am not lonely anymore.