Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 145746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Though, it could be all that pie. My butterflies have indigestion.
Aunt Grace settles at the other end of the couch and pulls my feet into her lap, gently massaging my toes and soles.
“You sure you don’t want another slice?” she asks. “You’ve lost weight.”
“Thank you,” I say, choosing to take her concern as a compliment. “I’ve been exercising. It’s good for stress and helps manage my moods.”
“You still use that mood tracking app?” Aunt Grace frowns. “I’m sure you’re staying on top of your meds. And you’re in touch with Dr. Baynard, right?”
“Yes to it all.” With a long-suffering sigh, I pull my feet from her lap and stand. “We met a few weeks ago to make sure I don’t need to adjust my meds.”
Aunt Roz marches into the living room and sits on the couch beside her wife, summoned by talk of meds and moods.
“Is there something you’re not telling us?” Aunt Roz asks, drying her hands on a dish towel. “What’s going on?”
“I had a little downswing,” I reply stiffly. “No big. Dr. Baynard and I huddled and it’s all good. Happens this time of year. I just need to stick to my routines and coping strategies.”
“If you need anything,” Aunt Grace says, worry sketching a little dent between her brows. “You know we—”
“Oh, my God.” I split an exasperated look between the two of them. “I’ve worked really hard to build something as close to a normal life as possible for myself. You don’t have to look over my shoulder every five minutes to make sure I’m not crashing out.”
“We’re not,” Aunt Roz replies hastily. “We’re proud of you, but you know a downswing usually means there could be a—”
“Manic cycle at some point,” I finish. “I’m well aware, but it doesn’t have to be. I’m vigilant. A little blip doesn’t mean everything will fall apart. I can’t live that way.”
“We’re sorry.” Aunt Grace reaches over and takes Aunt Roz’s hand. “But it’s not like you’re close by. You’re clear across the country and we never know if—”
“I’m also thirty-three years old and have been successfully managing this for over a decade. Have I had a few bumps in the road? Sure, but few and far between, considering. I’m healthy and I’m happy. Please let me enjoy that.”
“Of course, Vee Tee,” Aunt Roz says, her expression softening. “We love you.”
“You just… smother me sometimes.” I press a hand to my temple. “Maybe you shoulda had a kid or something.”
“We did.” Aunt Roz stands and pulls me into a hug, kissing the top of my head. “You.”
My irritation collapses under the sheer weight of their sweetness. They’ve been too good to me. I can endure a bout of extreme concern from time to time.
“A cat then,” I laugh, wrapping my arm around Aunt Roz’s plump middle.
My cell beeps with a text. I jerk out of Aunt Roz’s arms and dive for the phone, willing my heartbeat to slow down.
Mel: Happy Thanksgiving, ladies! Miss you. For the love of God, can we please go somewhere for Christmas?? Preferably to a hemisphere that does not contain my parents. If they ask about grandkids one more time, I cannot be held responsible.
You’re not disappointed Monk didn’t text back. You’ve gone twelve years not hearing from him on Thanksgiving.
I settle into the corner of the love seat and reply to our group chat thread.
Me: Happy Thanksgiving! Same over here. Not the grandkids, but the aunties are in rare form on the home front. What about you, Gem?
No dots appear and there’s no response from Tessa.
Me: Tessa, let us know you didn’t eat yourself into a food coma. I told you to go easy on your mama’s mac and cheese. We need proof of life.
Still no dots. Maybe she’s busy.
Another text comes in, this one from Mel, but on the thread with just the two of us, not the group chat.
Mel: I’m worried about her. I’ve been calling all day and no response. She told me she was back on her meds, but I’m not sure I believe her.
After the confrontation I just had with my aunts, I’m inclined to give Tessa the benefit of the doubt. I know our friends and family love us, but damn. When we come home, we want to feel like family. Not a patient.
Me: I’m sure she’s fine. She’s a grown woman.
Mel: A grown woman who has bipolar and has not been consistent with her meds lately.
Me: She’ll check in. Her family’s probably got a Spades tournament going. You know how they do on the holidays.
Mel doesn’t respond, but her silence sounds loud and skeptical. I’m about to assure her, when Tessa’s response comes through on our group thread.
Tessa: I’m here, guys. Just really busy. I’ll touch base after the holiday. Happy Thanksgiving!
I can’t shake a sense of unease. She’s saying the right things, but she’s been doing this long enough that she can mask for weeks, maybe even months, before someone detects things have gone off course.