Page 14 of Four Letter Feelings

“Mine isn’t as bad as it could be. I guess it’s technically mild to moderate if there’s a scale. I don’t hallucinate, or have psychosis and I can function ‘normally’ as long as I keep up with my meds and my doctors. If you don’t undergo treatment, though, manic periods can last up to like, six months, maybe? And depression can suck your soul out of you for like, a whole year.”

“You say that like you know what it’s like.” Jeremy observed.

“I do,” AJ answered quietly. “I’ve gone off my meds a few times. It’s not pretty.”

Jeremy let out a long and slow breath. He didn’t want to pity AJ, but at the same time he found it hard not to, his life sounded like it balanced on a knife edge of doctors and medication.

“It sounds exhausting, Pim.”

“It is. But when I’m not doing all the right shit, it’s even more exhausting. If I eat right, sleep right and exercise regularly, that helps. Taking my meds, seeing my shrink and my psychiatrist regularly also helps. Anyways, that’s my deep dark secret. It’s the biggest skeleton in my closet and I figured I should probably put it out there, just in case you don’t want to live with a nutjob and would rather run for your life.”

“Ok, wait, you’re not a nutjob. I admit I was a little afraid you were a nutjob before this exposition. However, having heard what you’ve said, I don’t think you’re a nutjob and I’ll give anyone who says you are, a matching bruise to the one you have.” He gestured to AJ’s lip with a tilt of his chin.

“And secondly?”

“Secondly, what’s life without a little adventure, right? I mean, is today gonna be the day you snap over me being a messy shit and stab me in my sleep? Who the fuck knows? I laugh in the face of danger!”

“Damn.” AJ chuckled and ran his hand through his hair. “That’s dark, man.”

“Can’t have light without darkness, roomie.”

“Touché!”

A laugh that he could have sworn sounded familiar caught his attention, but he dismissed it. That laugh lived in Iowa; he was sitting in Alabama and there was no chance that Chelsea Davis was anywhere near Alabama. Shaking it off with a roll of his neck, he caught a glimpse of curly, long chocolate-brown hair out of the corner of his eye and his breath stopped.

Memories flashed back from the night before when he felt a nagging sensation in the back of his mind that he knew the woman glaring at him from across the bar.

Chelsea fucking Davis, as I live and breathe.

“Who is she?”

“Huh?” Jeremy reluctantly turned his head back towards AJ.

“Who. Is. She?”

“I… well, she… I…”

“Jesus Christ, Jer. Pick a word would ya?”

“Chelsea,” he stammered.

“And who, pray tell, is Chelsea?”

“I am.” She raised a single eye brow and gave Jeremy a withering look. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t Jeremy Lewis!”

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