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“That’s why you need therapy.”
“I don’t need therapy,” I snap, and she gentles her tone.
“Austin. Come on.”
“No, Millie. Don’t use the animal voice on me. I’m not fucking going to therapy. I’m fine.”
“That’s what you said the two times you’ve had anxiety attacks in front of me.”
I curl my fingers around the railing, trying and failing to keep my cool. “They weren’t anxiety attacks.”
“No? Then what were they?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t care!”
She shouts right back at me. “I do! I love you, and I want to help you. I want to support you, but I can’t do it all on my own. You need to want it too. You need to want to be helped.”
I grind my teeth. “Then I guess I don’t want your help.”
She makes a soft, pained sound, and I drop my head, sucking air through my teeth because I can’t stop fucking up. “I’m sorry.”
She doesn’t respond, and when I finally force my focus to her, I want to die. The twin tracks of tears on her cheeks send a sharp pain down my spine, and I feel like puking for the second time tonight. “Baby, I’m sorry.”
She shakes her head, hand out, halting me when I reach for her.
“I’m having a hard time tonight, okay? It’s not an excuse, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t take it out on you.”
She nods.
“What can I do to show you I’m sorry?”
She knuckles away her tears then nibbles on her finger, but still, her chin quivers, and I tell her the one truth I think I’ve known since I saw my name on her back. I find myself sinking to my knees on the ground in front of her, begging. “I love you, Millie. I love you so much. Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”
“I’ve already told you. So many times. I want you to let me in.”
“I will. I promise. I will.” Taking a chance, I skate my hands up her thighs and around her hips, hugging her, my head against her stomach. When she doesn’t stop me, I kiss the swell of her stomach. “Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do. Just please stop crying.”
She lets out a watery laugh that feels slightly derisive. “That’s not how the world works. Things don’t happen because you want them to. You have to work at it.”
“I know.”
“But you don’t. You won’t admit you need help that is more than I can give you. You won’t be honest with me about your family and whatever happened in the past. You refuse to give me even half of what I’m giving you.”
I swallow past the sand in my throat, my heart long gone, dislodged about the time she let me hold her. But now, the damn thing is on its last gasp when she reminds me, “You told me to say no to you whenever I wanted.”
Thump.
“You made me promise that if I was ever uncomfortable, I’d leave.”
Thump.
“Well… I’m keeping that promise.”
Thump. “No.” Thump. “Millie.” Thump. “Baby, please don’t do this.”
She sniffles and steps away, her tears free-flowing. “I love you, Austin, but… It’s not enough. Sometimes love isn’t enough, and you need help. You need to talk to someone.”
She wipes her face and my heart gives out, but I somehow make it up to my feet, swaying. I reach for her again, but she avoids my grasp, and seeing her hold her hands up as if I did touch her, I would hurt her, it’s a wonder I’m capable of staying upright.
