Page 107 of Notorious

“He is. At least I think he is,” Kurt says. “I’m doing everything I can to make sure of it.”

Mama opens her mouth to say something, then stops and shakes her head, closing her eyes. A tear drips down her cheek, and I feel like utter shit.

“I’m sorry I planned to kill myself,” I tell her. “I’m sorry I couldn’t think of another way to save you. I’m learning that it was my depression telling me that killing myself was the only option.”

“We would’ve never forgiven you!” May Ella says.

I give her an apologetic look, then turn back to Mama. “Kurt said that killing myself would hurt you worse than having bad kidneys, but that sort of logic is hard to believe when you’re in the middle of depression.”

“He’s right, though.” Mama gives me a watery smile. “I love you, Johnny. Don’t you forget that. Don’t take yourself away from me, ever. I’ll not have it.”

“It’s a little easier to tell you this, knowing that we’re gonna get you your transplant,” I admit.

“But I bet it was hard anyway,” she says quietly.

“Yeah. It was.”

“Then thank you for telling me, and I’m so sorry it got that bad,” Mama says. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help you heal.” She looks at Kurt. “And thank you for saving my son. You’re a hero. I hope you know that.”

“I think my mom’s the hero, actually,” he says.

“Yeah,” I say, my voice hoarse. “She’s a keeper, too. Just like you.”

That night, lying in the hotel bed in Fresno, tracing a line down Kurt’s back with my fingertips, I sigh.

“What’s up?” he asks.

I don’t answer right away.

“Honesty,” he reminds me. I grumble, but I know he’s right.

“Why don’t I feel better?” I finally ask. “I’ve done all the things I’m supposed to do. I got therapy, and I’m taking my meds. I fessed up to Mama. She’s gonna get the care she needs. I have an amazing boyfriend, a job working at a beautiful ranch, and a fancy home to come back to every night. And a dog sleepin’ at the foot of my bed. So why do I still sometimes want to end it all? Will this ever stop being so hard?”

He pulls me closer to him. “Recovery isn’t linear. And shaming yourself for not feeling better is counterproductive. What’s the line about ‘If you’re in a hole, stop digging’? Piling bad feelings on top of bad feelings just makes a bigger pile. You don’t have to feel great on any kind of schedule.”

“I wish I could, though. I wish you didn’t have to watch over me like a hawk.”

“I choose to do that,” Kurt says with a little edge in his tone. “Because I like having you around. I like it a lot. If you need reminding that your life has value, I’ll remind you.”

“I don’t want you to have to remind me. But okay, yeah. That’s piling bad feelings over bad again, isn’t it?”

He shrugs. “It’s okay, babe. You don’t have to be anything other than who you are.”

“Where did I find you?” I ask wonderingly.

“In a bar in Vegas.”

I chuckle. “That was pretty smart of me.”

“It was.”

He kisses my palm, and we lie in the darkness for a while. All my spinning, secret thoughts are rising to the surface, despite my attempts to banish them.

“Do you feel like you’re in crisis?” Kurt asks.

“I’m not sure. I don’t think so. Maybe it will be better after the trial,” I whisper. “Or if we can settle this thing at mediation.”

“We can hope so,” Kurt says. “But that’s still a ways off. If you need an emergency session with Christian, or to go back to the hospital, just say the word. I’ll support you. Whatever will help. Do you think you’re a danger to yourself as things stand?”

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