Same Experiences

Chapter Twenty Two

George

I was halfway through the fifth season when Dave peeped in. I sat up and smiled at him. He smiled back. He came inside and stood beside the bed. 

"Hey," I said. "Hi," he replied. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be working?" I asked.

"George, it's Saturday," he said, the concern evident in his voice. My eyebrows furrowed as I looked at the day on my laptop and laughed. 

"Oh," I said. "Yeah, I haven't had the hang of time that much."

He sat down on the bed and put down the laptop lid. "Are you okay?" He asked as he sat down on the bed beside me. I gave him a bewildered look, "Yeah, I'm good."

"George. Something's been wrong since the day you came back," he said carefully. "You've never been like this. From what you've told me, this was you in London when you were living with your dad."

Realization dawned on him. I could almost hear it click in his mind. I had wanted to avoid this. So badly. I'd thought I'd get out of this room feeling a bit normal. 

"Something happened in London," he said. 

A friend's intuition is the strongest when it concerns another friend. 

Lucy called him. This screamed Lucy's involvement. A flash of anger ran through me and I said, "Tell Lucy that I'm fine."

"George, she's just worried about you," he said. I got off the bed and threw my hands up in irritation. "See, that's the thing, Dave! I don't need anyone worrying about me. I'm not that same fourteen-year-old girl anymore. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"We all know that, George. But that doesn't change the fact that you need help right now, because from what I can see you're not able to help yourself," he said firmly.

I stared at him for a few minutes and said, "You're with her on this? Dave, I'm fine. I'm fantastic. I'm just taking a break."

Dave pinched the bridge of his nose and got up. He walked to me and framed my face with his hands. "Okay, look. I get it. I get your impulse of not wanting to tell others. But it's a good thing sometimes."

I sighed again and shook my head, "I'm telling the truth, Dave."

His eyes turned steely. He took a few steps back, distancing himself. He shook his head, sighing, and said, "Do you know just how painful it is to know that you're hurting and not being able to do anything about it? God, what the fuck are you so scared about, George? It's always like this. You just expect us to ignore it when you behave weirdly."

"Well, yeah, of course, I do. I can deal with my problems myself," I said. He gave me a sad smile and said, "Have you ever thought about the fact that there will be something you'll need help in? Something you can't deal with yourself? What will you do then?"

I was floored by the question. He sighed and said, "I'm just really hurt that you can't trust me with your pain. Even after I trusted you with mine."

I could feel my heart breaking into little pieces slowly. I hurt him. I never wanted to hurt him, but here we are. I realized that I could never get myself to tell anyone about my pain. 

But that'd keep hurting him. It'd hurt him when I'd have a panic attack and he wouldn't know why it happened. What if he thinks it's him at some point in time? 

I closed my eyes as I took my decision. I could hurt myself but not him. Never him. 

"You know what?" I said, trying to keep my grief out of my voice. "Maybe we should take a break from this. You've got your big meeting coming up, I have a dress to design. We can talk when you get back."