If It Weren't For You – Chapter 7
By MyNameIsCAL
-Fang's POV-
Thanks to the coffee, I hadn't slept. I didn't like sleeping anyway. Max didn't know it, but I had stopped taking my sleeping pills. I slipped them into my pocket when she wasn't looking and hid them in a box in my dresser drawer.
I dressed and came out of my room around ten. Max had a cup of coffee in hand, Iggy sitting across the table from her, eyes unfocused and wandering around the kitchen.
"Are we going to the grocery store?" he asked without turning to face me.
"Yes." I wondered how he knew, but I shook it off as a coincidence. Even though I knew I hadn't told Max when I had planned to leave. Usually I didn't go until after lunch.
Iggy rose from the table and I grabbed the keys that hung by the wall near the door. I told Max to call me if she needed anything and we were off.
"You haven't been sleeping," was the first thing that came out of Iggy's mouth as I started up the car.
"What makes you say that?" I asked.
He shook his head. "You know, when you can't see, you start paying attention to other things. It's unsettling to see darkness when you open and close your eyes, so sometimes I lay there and listen. I can hear you through the wall, pacing and tossing and turning. Are you not taking your sleeping medication?"
I opened and closed my mouth a few times. "No, I'm not."
"This is what happened last time you relapsed."
The words struck me hard.
"Look, Fang. I'm trying to look out for you. I mean, not look but you know what I mean." He leaned against the window. "It's awful when you're not around and stuck in rehab. As much as you think you're a burden, you're a distraction for keeping us from thinking too. I don't know what I'm trying to say."
"What do you and Max need distracting from?" I frowned.
It took him a minute to answer. "A lot of things. There's no routine when you're not around. We just sit around and worry about you, practically counting down the days or hours we can see you again or take you home."
"Really?" I thought that was only Max.
"Yes, really." He ran his hand along the window. "Pay attention to your driving."
I fixed my eyes back onto the road, ignoring the growing pain in my leg as I stepped on the gas.
Christmas was less than a month away now, and it was hard not to think about last year. Max had insisted that we stay at the apartment since I was still adjusting to being out of the hospital again. But I couldn't handle the guilt, and things came crashing down when I stumbled across one of my hidden stashes in my drawer. Then I almost drove a knife through my arm, landing me in the ER. Christmas Eve was spent waiting for me to be seen. I still couldn't believe Max had forgiven me for that, and I promised myself I wasn't going to ruin it this year.
Still, it was getting harder. Iggy was right. Taking my sleeping medication was better. I'd actually get sleep and my mind would be in a better state, but the urges were still there. To the point where I had to ask Max to lock the knife drawer one night. She was always good about it though. She'd ask if I was okay, and then give me a hug, promising me that things were going to be okay.
Ava, fortunately, was sleeping now. There were few nights that Max or I would have to wake up for her. Sometimes I'd lay there in the dark, trying to hear Iggy in his room, but then again he was a whole lot better at hearing than I was. I'm sure whatever insignificant sound I didn't pick up was like a gunshot to him now.
And yet sometimes I could swear there were times I made out his breathing, and times when I tried to hold my breath that I'd hear him doing the same.
"Hey, Fang?"
I looked up over the newspaper. "Yeah?"
"Would you mind if we had everyone over for Christmas this year?" Max actually sounded anxious, which was unusual because she was usually sure about most things.
"This is your apartment," I said, putting the paper down. "But no, I don't mind."
"I just wanted to make sure," she admitted. "Nudge is probably going to come too."
"Maybe you should get everyone earplugs for Christmas then," Iggy sniggered.
Max rolled her eyes. "C'mon, Ig. Be nice."
He gave her a sheepish smile and went back to eating his toast.