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The insomnia starts the following week. I've missed my session with Flynn and he's called me a number of times. I know I should go but I can't bring myself to. The tablets aren't working yet. The propranolol has certainly taken the edge off the heart racing but it isn't on top of it yet. My mind starts racing at night and I lay awake, staring at my ceiling.
I plan to return to the office for the first time on the Monday. This is making me anxious. I know everyone is going to be nice to me and I don't want that. I'd rather they continued to treat me like they always do. Like I'm a bit of a prick but I'm their employer so they have to get on with it. I think I have maybe managed 1 hour sleep when I walk through to the kitchen. Gail is preparing breakfast.
"Mr Grey," she says quietly. She's still not used to the idea of calling me Christian and very rarely uses it. "Are you sure you should go in?"
Great, I must look bad. I would have normally dragged myself out of bed earlier to go cuddle with my kids but I felt too sick to move. A combination I think of sheer exhaustion and trying to get used to the Celexa. The drug makes me feel so nauseous. Like a heavy nausea I've never experienced in my throat. I want to stop but I know if I do, I'll just start self medication again. Drugs and alcohol are not the answer.
"Yeah, I want to go back," I say taking a sip of the coffee and immediately setting it down. That's going to come right back up if I continue.
"You look really poorly," Gail says looking at me. I saw my face as I brushed my teeth. I'm pale. My eyes a little bloodshot. They have dark rings underneath. But I'm basically fine.
"I feel okay," I say standing up as Hope brings Teddy and Rose down. I take my little girl at once, kissing her head. "I'll do her bottle," I tell Hope, going to start making it as Teddy bangs on a cupboard, telling Gail what cereal he wants. I chew my lip. I'm good at his breakfast usually but right now, just thinking of food is making me feel bilious.
"Cheerios!" He shouts loudly as I shake my head.
"Cheerios what?" I ask him. Ana was a stickler for manners and I'm not going to let that slide.
"Please!" He beams up at Gail. My mom thinks he looks just like me when I was small. Personally, I see a lot of Ana in him. He's a sweet boy.
I test Rose's bottle before sitting in one of the chairs at the bar, starting to feed her. Hope sets Teddy down in the high chair. He is as loud as ever. I'm glad I'm not hungover although being exhausted and feeling sick are not a great combination either. I burp my little girl as she finishes eating, still struggling with the idea she's can't be breastfed. I kiss her and Teddy's foreheads, passing her to Hope before heading down with Taylor.
I step out of the elevator on my floor and Andrea greets me. That look of sympathy is there. "Mr Grey," she says standing from her desk to walk with me to my office. "It's lovely to have you back."
"Thanks, Andrea," I nod as I open my office door. There is a white bouquet of flowers on the table. I take a deep breath. She's followed me in. Why does it need to be now? I focus ahead, walking to my desk. There's a note with the flowers which I don't pick up. I sit down at my desk, facing Andrea.
"I'm so sorry for your loss," she says in a soft voice. I gulp.
"I don't want to talk about it, Andrea," I say stiffly as she nods.
"Of course, sir," she says, fixing on a false smile. "When would you like to sit down and catch up?"
"Not yet," I say irritably. "Can you send… whatever the girl's name is… to get me a coffee? Black."
"Yes, sir. It's Naomi, she's just joined the team up here," Andrea says, already backing out.
"Great," I say without bothering to look up, starting up my Mac. Ana and I adorn my home screen. We're cuddled together on the Grace. It's such a lovely candid photo. She's not looking at the camera, she's gazing at me. I go to press my email app, my fingers shaking. Not now, I think desperately.
As my emails open, they cover the screen. The mailbox has over 1000 unread. I know they're probably dealt with but it's overwhelming in a way it never would have been before. Of course, usually I wouldn't have let them build up like this. I've been checking odd ones but seeing that number at the side of the screen causes me heart beat to pick up.
The drugs are perhaps working to a point, but right now I feel overwhelmed. The thumping of my heart is loud in my ears. Breathe, Grey. You have to breathe. I take a very deep breath, trying to let it go slowly without gasping for another. I grip the side of the desk with both hands. The pressure means I can feel the blood throbbing in my finger tips.
The door opens and some girl walks in. She must be Naomi. I know she's been hired in my absence because she's fucking brunette. Although it's streaked with some other outlandish colour that I'm assuming Andrea or someone has told her to strip out. She has my coffee.
"You don't knock?" I ask her aggressively as she freezes on the way to my desk. Her brown eyes are wide and a little startled. "Get the fuck out," I spit at her. She clearly doesn't know what to do with the coffee. My heart is thumping faster. I don't want anyone here to see me have a panic attack, much less the new girl. "Get out," I repeat, my teeth gritted. She doesn't meet my eyes, just sets the coffee mug on the fucking carpet and scrambles out, closing the door.
I place my head on the cool leather of the desk, trying to catch my breath. I channel my thoughts on anger for the little bitch that just walked into my office. Eventually I manage to catch my breath. Anger I'm good at. Anxiety, not so much. When I'm sure my heart rate is steady, I turn back to my email, starting to work through the list.
A Skype message pops up from Ros, asking if I want to meet her today. I take a deep breath, giving her a yes and arranging a meeting for 3. The new girl is back at 12, tapping on my door this time.
"What?" I call as she walks in. She looks more defiant now. Not scared. It pisses me off.
"Andrea says I'm to take your lunch order," she says in a bored voice. She won't be fucking staying in this department.
"I don't want anything. Just get me another coffee," I bark at her. "And pick that one up off the floor." She crouches to get it as my glare follows her. She doesn't even fucking apologise.
She brings another coffee in a few minutes later with minimal fuss, actually knocking this time. I don't say thank you, she's been rude as fuck to me so why should I bother with any manners? Ros arrives as planned at 3pm. We haven't seen each other since Ana's funeral.
I can tell as soon as she walks in, she's wants to hug me. Ros and I have never really hugged. Hand shakes maybe. But right now I can see she is itching to embrace me. I stay sat. Hugging will make me cry and I'm not doing that. When she saw me at the funeral I was sobbing my heart out. She doesn't need to see it again.
"How are you holding up?" She asks me. That look of pity is on her face too. I don't need to be pitied. I don't want this.
"I'm absolutely fine," I say in a stiff voice. She knows this means not to push it. She goes through things she thinks I need to catch up and we talk until 6pm. By the time I leave at 6.30, only Andrea is left at her desk.
"Goodnight sir," she calls as I walk past. I jut my chin in recognition, heading down to meet Taylor.
The kids are in bed by 9. Much later than they should be but I wanted time with them when I eventually arrived home at 7.30. I feel so much guilt. Usually, if I was late home it wouldn't be a problem, because Ana was always there for Teddy. She usually would collect him from nursery around 4 and they would spend each evening together until I got home.
They'd already eaten when I arrived and when I went to the nursery with them, Teddy was too tired to play much. I settled them pretty soon. The knot in my stomach is tight as I sit on my sofa. I don't want to be a crap father. Ana wouldn't want that for her children. I push my hair out of my face, thinking of whiskey. No.
I pull my phone from my pocket and text my mom. By 9.45 both her and my dad are round. I just want someone to sit with me while I can't sleep. I desperately don't want to be alone. I've never asked for my parents, not since I was about 10. But right now I really want them to be with me.
"When you were raising me and Elliott and Mia…" I begin as I cradle a glass of water. My mom has water too, my dad a non alcoholic beer. What is the point?
My mom gives me a smile. I've put Comedy Central on in the background to drown out any awkward silence. I take a deep breath.
"I got back really late from work tonight. And… my job is so… demanding," I continue as my mom looks concerned, my dad a little puzzled. "Well, I'm worried it'll be a regular thing. Ted was too tired when I was back. I feel guilty not being there."
My mom laughs a little. I raise my eyebrows at her reaction. "Every parent feels that, Christian," she says gently. "People call it mom guilt all the time but dads feel it too. If you miss one moment, you feel bad."
"I just… they only have me," I sigh a little, sipping my water.
"I know they do," she's more gentle now, seeing where I'm going. "You're right, your job is demanding. But you're your own boss. Could you delegate more?"
I sigh a little. Maybe. If I wasn't such a control freak. But it's all been delegated to Ros for weeks and nothing awful has happened. That I know of. Certainly nothing came up in the brief this afternoon. "I'd have to put upon Ros," I say eventually.
"Yes but she can delegate too. You don't have to own everything," my mom says looking at me.
"Did you feel… mom guilt?" I ask her. She gives me a smile.
"All the time. Your dad did too. We both worked and we wanted to be there for the three of you. And the more you have, the harder it is to balance," she reassures me. Well it's meant to be to reassure me. It sets my heart off.
"Well I'm not likely to have any more, am I?" I mutter. My eyes start burning again. I've kept it in all day. This was bound to happen.
"Oh baby," my mom stands to come and sit next to me, wrapping me in her embrace. I take a deep, desperate breath. My tears free flow now, running down onto my chest. I wipe my nose on my arm. it's gross but I don't care. My mom certainly doesn't mind.
"When will I stop feeling like this?" I whisper.
"Grief is different for everyone, darling," she says gently as I breath shakily. "Even when you think you've processed it, it can still hit you in waves years down the line."
"What about this anxiety?" I look at my stupid, shaking legs.
"Well, that you need some help with from John," she says pulling back a little to look at my blotchy face. "And he called to say you missed an appointment." Oh good, Flynn is on to my mother and she's worried now.
"He shouldn't have called you," I say petulantly, sticking out my bottom lip just like Ted would when he doesn't get his own way.
"He has a duty of care. You're clearly vulnerable. If you don't show up, he needs to know you're okay," she's so firm with me. I feel like the child I am acting like. Mom is still strict even now I'm in my 30s. Her and Ana are the only people that can ever control me. Although Ana was a lot better than mom is.
I take a deep breath. It no longer feels like the oxygen is running out. I know it's because I'm irritable. Anger soothes my anxiety. Who knew? "I'm not vulnerable," I tell her firmly.
"Christian, it's alright to be a little vulnerable," she says and I shake my head, rolling my eyes at her.
"Let's just watch something," I say, turning up the TV. There is a British comedian on, a Jimmy Carr. I've not seen him before but he seems funny. Although wildly inappropriate to watch with my parents. My mom is cringing, although my dad laughs. It makes me smile. This is how he would be with Elliott. They'd watch shit like this together and find it funny.
As the show ends, I look to them. They're both tired, I can tell. They're not stay up to half 11 people. "Do you want to watch something else?" My mom asks me as I shake my head.
"No, we need to get to bed," I stand, about to walk to my room. "Mom?" I ask. I hate being needy, this is mortifying.
"What's up, sweetheart?" She says gently as I pull my hair forward into my face. It's still not been cut, probably the longest I have ever had it. I like hiding behind it currently.
"Can you sit with me while I try and fall asleep?" I ask in a low voice. I'm embarrassed asking my mom. My dad can hear too. I'm thirty fucking one.
"Of course I will," she says as my dad heads up to the spare room they've been staying in lately. I walk into the bathroom and brush my teeth. My mom doesn't follow me, giving me privacy as she takes a seat in my bedroom. I walk back through, climbing into my bed and pulling the duvet up. "Do you want to talk?" She offers as I lay on my side, setting an alarm and putting my phone on charge.
"Yeah," I say quietly resting my head on the pillow, the duvet up to my chest. "Have you heard from Ray?" I ask her as she shakes her head.
"No, Christian," she has that pity look. I don't mind it from my mom. Because for whatever reason I want her to take care of me right now. "Have you?" She asks looking at me. She's so pretty. She looks tired too though.
"Yeah. He's text me a couple of times. He apologised via text," I say smelling the duvet to comfort myself. It doesn't smell of Ana any more but still the same laundry detergent we used to have and she would often smell of. My mom watches me.
"Well he needs to apologise properly," my mom says firmly.
"Maybe. I don't want to meet up with him right now," I say quietly as she tilts her head. I'm quiet for a bit. "He'll want to talk about Ana and I'm not ready," my voice cracks a little on her name. "That's why I don't want to see Flynn."
My mom is silent for a bit as she watches me, clearly thinking how to respond. "I know it's hard, Christian. And I know it sounds like a cliché, but it will get easier with time. John has always helped you through things before."
"I know but he'll want to talk about how I feel. And all this anxiety," I mumble. My leg is shaking even as we talk. It's hard enough he's given me medication. I don't want to talk about these feelings. This constant fear I'm experiencing. And why? She's gone already, I can't worry about losing her again.
"It's why you need to talk with him Christian," she says soothingly. I run my tongue over my lips. Mom gives me a sad smile as I take a deep breath through my nose. "How was work today?"
"It was okay. There's this new assistant in my department," I say with a sigh. Hadn't thought about her this evening. I make a mental note to ask Andrea to move her tomorrow.
"You don't like her?" My mom asks me.
"Nope. She's rude and fucking incompetent," I continue as my mom purses her lips.
"Well you've only known her one day, Christian," she says pragmatically. "Maybe give her chance to settle in. Perhaps you make her nervous? She's not met you before." Urgh, my mom is so like Ana in this way. Always wanting to see the best in people.
"Yeah, maybe," I sigh, telling her a little more about what I have been up to today. She's really interested, I can tell. I feel myself sliding into an uneasy sleep as we're still talking around an hour later.
I wake at 3am, according to my phone. I've been asleep a little over two hours. My mom has gone to bed. The room is entirely dark. She must have switched the lights out for me. My breathing is quite fast, my fingers trembling a little. I pinch the bridge of my nose. I do not have time for this. I need to go back to sleep.
I roll over, feeling a jolt of electricity as my cock brushes against the fabric of the duvet in my pyjamas. Great, so in my anxious state I didn't realise my own cock was hard. I thought that fight or flight was supposed to negatively impact this. Clearly I've not woken up quite anxious enough. I close my eyes, determined to ignore it. I need to get some sleep. And last time, touching it did not end well.
My eyes feel heavy, like I might actually sleep but for some reason my body is turned on. I assume I've just had some kind of dream but I can't remember it. Maybe just get it over with? It's not like I'm never going to ejaculate again. At some point, I'm going to have to get over this. And it's not going to be by meeting another woman, I know that.
I slide my hand down there, feeling all the shame Elena made me feel about this as I do. Urgh, I don't want to think about her right now. I take a deep breath, trying to focus on the task itself and ignore everything else. I'm searching desperately for any kind of fantasy to play in my head. After Ana, the BDSM scene no longer appeals and I'm trying to think vanilla. But there isn't one person I want vanilla sex with except her.
I move my hand slowly. My hips are moving and I realise this is the longest I have ever gone without coming my entire adult life. At least 2 months. Wow, who knew I could show this much self control. I can already feel myself getting close as I pick up my pace. I'm disgusted in myself as that girl swims into my head. Fucking Naomi. Before I can get her out, I finish in my pyjama bottoms. Fuck.
I don't know what it is that made me think of her. Except I do. She's the one person who hasn't pitied me. Who's treated me like utter shit and for some reason, I really like that right now. Jesus. This is ridiculous. I grab some tissues form my night stand in a vain attempt to tidy up, figuring I'll deal with the worst of it in the morning.
I'm actually sleepy now. Disgusted in myself. But sleepy. It's nice to feel sleepy. I haven't felt it in so long I'd almost forgotten what it was like. I bury my head in the pillow, trying to push out all the thoughts of what I've just done. Would Ana be angry with me? Disappointed? For once it isn't anxiety, just sadness that fuels my tiredness. I'm an absolute fucking waste of space, is about my final thought before I drift off, waking with my 6am alarm.
I sit up rubbing my forehead. The sky is still a deep grey, October coming in full force. The darkness isn't helping my mood. I reach in my bedside drawer to grab my medication, taking both with a glass of water on my bedside cabinet. I stand and make a slow walk to the bathroom, flushing the offending tissues down my toilet. I strip my pyjamas off and step under a cool shower. I let the water wash my hair into my face. My fringe when wet now reaches the bottom of my nose and I know I need to deal with it at some point. The back isn't so bad as it wasn't long to begin with but definitely needs cutting. If I let it carry on like this, people will think I'm in a boy band.
I climb out the shower, wrapping myself in a towel and heading to my closet. I pull on a suit, taking forever to fasten the buttons and put my tie on as I can't stop shaking this morning. I grab a comb and start pushing it through my messy hair, resolving to have some of it cut off today. Ana used to enjoy cutting my hair, she was good at it.
I take a deep breath. You've got this. I tell myself frequently but to actually have it I really need to stop shaking. It's fucking ridiculous. My mom and dad are in my kitchen with my two children when I arrive and I give them a broad smile.
"Hey guys," I say gently picking up Rose and kissing her head. She's so bald now. Her eyes are blue but they look like they may be getting darker. She's certainly more alert and smily now. I love her little grins. Hope is convinced she saves them for me but I think she's just trying to make me feel better.
"Did you sleep okay?" My mom asks. She looks tired too. My dad is working on a grapefruit.
"Yeah, actually I did. Thank you for staying with me," I add as I start to feed Rose. Her little hand reaches up to rest on the bottle as I smile down at her.
"That's good news," she says, sipping a cup of coffee. "You know we can come round at any point?" She reminds me as I give her a small nod.
"Yeah. I'm going to try and have some normality," I mumble. "Going to get my hair cut today," I add, tilting the bottle a bit for my little girl. She's so greedy.
"That'll be good," my mom pushes my still damp fringe from my eyes. "It'll be nice to see your pretty face again," she cares about me far too much. I've been awful over the years for her to still love me this much. It chokes me up.
"Thanks," I mutter. I can hear the lump in my voice and I know she does too. She goes back to being strict mom.
"Are you going to make sure you see Flynn this week?" She asks me seriously.
"Yes," I say quietly as I burp Rose. I'm about to promise as my mom gives me a serious look as I feel my baby spit up on me. I watched this happen to Ana so much with Teddy. He never once spat up on me. I wasn't involved enough. "Is it bad?" I ask, aware I have vomit over my shoulder.
"I'd probably change the jacket," my dad teases me. "Or you'll curdle." I give him a small smile, getting a damp cloth to wipe my daughter's face before handing her to my mom and heading to get changed. I'm resolved. I'm going to be more there for my kids and I'm going to get back to some normality. It's about time.