Page 28 of Come to Me
Yes.
"No. Let's finish all the errands first. So we don't have to leave."
Her lips curl into a smile and she nods.
We rush through a host of errands-- the drug store, K-mart, lunch, another cup of coffee--and end up at Whole Foods. I fill her cart with fruit and vegetables, but she shoots me amind your own damn businesslook and removes everything I loaded.
"You don't want apples?" I ask.
"I do."
"Then why put them back?"
"Just let me do it, okay?" She stares at the apples, really examining them. Finally, she packs a dozen into a plastic bag and places them in the cart. She slips into the rhythm of shopping, picking up bits and pieces here and there.
I bite my tongue a dozen times to avoid offering suggestions.
She's always painfully distant about recovery, and she mostly refuses to discuss anything related to food.
"You're hovering," she says.
"I'm not hovering. I'm just here."
"But you look so concerned."
"Am I not allowed to be concerned?" I ask.
She sighs. "I'm not a vase that's going to break."
She's prickly, but I can see it's because she's afraid. And trying to hide it.
"It's okay if you're scared of being on your own. I'm scared too."
She cocks a hip.
"What are you scared about?"
"I don't like being without you."
She turns away, her fingers digging into the cart. "This was your idea."
I feel a flash of irritation that I quickly control.
"I only helped you realize how much you wanted this. You're happy, aren't you?" I point out.
There's definitely excitement there, mixed with that fear.
"Yeah, but..." She lowers her voice. "What if I can't handle being here alone. What if it's too much, too soon? There's a street cart on every corner. A trigger food on every corner. This is going to be so stressful. I'm going to be tempted."
There it is.
"So, you'll call me."
"Yeah..."
"You will call me." It comes out as an order.
That's a mistake.
