Page 41 of Make You Love Me
“I had other ideas.”
“So, I see. It would be in your…”
Her voice sounds hollow as it floats in the air. While I try to focus on her and the light she brings into my life, her beauty and the soothing sound of her voice drifts away into darkness.
???
Nora
“Jordan.” I tap his cheek to get his attention and freeze when his eyes roll back. As he trembles, I line the wall with pillows from the couch and keep a close watch over him.
A quick check of the time: 7:34 a.m.
Each second that passes feels like an hour. I check again.
7:38 a.m.
The backs of my eyes burn at the implications of this moment. This seizure has already lasted longer than his first, and he shows no sign of calming.
7:41 a.m.
Tears pool and fall unnoticed, leaving glistening streaks down my bare skin.
“Please, Jordan. I can’t take this much longer.”
7:44 a.m.
I’m reaching for my phone to call an ambulance when the tremors cease, and I reach for him instead.
“Jordan, can you hear me? Jordan.” I hold his hand to my chest.
He groans and turns his head, crushing his eyes closed to the light, the pain, me. In the silence, I let out the dueling tension that had compounded since waking in his arms. He’s all right, and we can reclaim a normalcy…until the next crisis at least.
I trail my other hand over his hair before I shift to the couch to give him space. Watching his chest rise and fall with each labored breath, I realize I have zero control over this situation. There’s nothing I can do to prevent Jordan’s seizures or the pain I’ll cause when he remembers. For now, he looks at me with those mind-numbing eyes, and I lose myself. It’s not like me. I’m always in control.
But for the past several days, I’ve been anything but the master of my domain. At some point in the night, my heart told my brain to go fuck itself, and I don’t know what to make of it. Jordan, Sydney, Emily—these are the people who follow their every whim and heart’s desire. Not me. I don’t throw caution out the window and have…emotions. I don’t cry or lead with my heart first. I don’t allow myself to dabble in vulnerability. Nothing good ever comes from that.
UGH. In. All. Caps.
Who am I? I don’t recognize the woman I became the second Jordan showed up at VETS. I’m spiraling, and can only wonder: Where’smyrescuer? The one who shows up without being asked when my world is crumbling. Like when I scrape my mother offthe floor, comfort Sydney during moments of uncertainty, and shelter Jordan. Where’s my person, waiting in the wings to talk some sense into me and pullmeoff the ledge?
Again, with the self-pity. It’s time to suck it up and get back to the only version of me I can understand in this alarming and muddled mess I’ve gotten myself into.
Glancing around, I look for something to consume my attention and cushion the walls of my wavering sanity. As if in answer, my phone alights, delivering the distraction I needed. I snatch it up and read the message.
Josie:I tried to call Jordan, but he didn’t answer. Everything OK?
Me:It was until about 10 minutes ago. Seizure. Longer than the first.
Josie:Oh no. Can you talk?
Me:Better not. He’s sleeping again, and I don’t want to leave or wake him.
Josie:Good idea. How was yesterday?
Last night jumps into my thoughts and my cheeks burn hot. I look down at my nude body, grateful this conversation is not a video call. I wonder how Josie would feel about Jordan and I reconnecting physically. Scratch that. I don’t have to guess. She’d be as furious as I feel guilty.
Slowly, I type out an answer to her question.
