Back to You (Sequel to Take Me Away From Here)

Chapter 24

Tim POV: 

I laid awake all night, unable to sleep after yesterdays catastrophe. I just keep playing in my mind the picture of her moving the handful of pills toward her mouth. I've gone into her room to check on her about a dozen times tonight, thinking I hear rustling, or the rattle of a pill bottle. I should invest in a safe... Maybe that'll help prevent near disasters like yesterday. 

The alarm chirps at 6 AM, forcing me up out of bed. I follow the same routine - t-shirt, jeans, brush my teeth. I go to knock on the girls doors, only knocking a few times before walking away. I'm too tired to bug them too much this morning. I need to save my energy for whatever mood Faith is in today. 

I stagger toward the door at the far end of the hall, feeling my heart stop as I notice her door is wide open. I rush inside, noticing no clues. Her bed is pristinely made, her nightstands are both clear of anything outside of her lamps and a phone, and her window is shut. I take a deep breath as I begin to panic. She wouldn't have taken off... would she? 

She would... Oh my god, she would... 

I rush toward the stairs, grabbing a pair of shoes off the bottom stair and slipping them on while trying to remember where I left my keys. I pat my pockets, before spinning around to look around. I stop in my tracks, as I see Gracie, Maggie, and Audrey sitting at the kitchen island across from Faith. I pant slowly, probably looking damn near insane to them. 

"You alright?" Audrey remarks, making both Gracie and Maggie laugh a little. Faith smiles at them, before looking down at the empty plate in front of her. Did she make them breakfast? I nod slowly, feeling like I'm in an odd dream. "Mom made breakfast." She says, as Gracie pushes a plate toward me. I cautiously sit down, looking down at the eggs and toast on my plate. "What were you saying Mom?" Audrey asks, turning toward Faith. Faith smiles at her, before clearing her throat. 

"When I was little, my Dad used to make meatballs every Christmas and he'd mix them with my Mom's cheap store-bought sauce. It made it bearable. You guys really lucked out with us, because my parents couldn't cook at all. My dad had a few shining moments, but..." She says, before laughing a little. I don't think I can pinpoint exactly when I last saw her laugh. The girls laugh too, while Gracie constantly looks my way. 

"Dad sometimes falls asleep while making breakfast." Maggie remarks, laughing as she looks over toward me. I laugh a bit too, knowing it's true. Some mornings are harder than others. Gracie looks at the clock, before starting to gather her things. The other two follow her lead, collecting their dishes and rinsing them in the sink, before kissing their mother on the cheek. She smiles, giving them each a small hug as they start toward the door. I watch them leave, feeling a little shocked. Faith cleans up the rest of the mess, placing the carton of eggs and the gallon of orange juice back in the fridge. She starts to twist the loaf of bread closed, when she glances up at me. 

"You're staring, Tim." She remarks, completely catching me. I clear my throat and try to play it off, feeling almost speechless. She wipes a part of the counter with a wet rag, before leaning her palms against the granite. "I could sit around here, and be miserable, or I could try to establish some sense of normalcy." She utters, while I nod slowly in response. "I'm not going to lie, I'm in a lot of pain right now... but you're right. I need to be here for the girls, and I know I haven't been." She says, making my chest ache. She walks across the kitchen, before starting downstairs and disappearing. I stare at where she had been standing, trying to process this. It's like a whole new world... 

I stand up, and follow her down to the den, where she's sitting down at the piano, staring at a sheet of lyrics in front of her. She must've been up all night writing, from what it looks like... I watch in the distance, fearing that I'll irritate her by coming too close. She runs her fingers across a few keys, before clearing her throat. 

"What a beautiful picture we both made... You drive, I look out the window. It's not right but nobody said so... We walk in and head to the same pew. Hold hands, just like we're supposed to. But last night you slept on the sofa, and these days I don't even know ya... We fight like hell but nobody knows... When we're wearing our church clothes..." She sings softly, leaving me breathless. She stares down at the piano keys, before sighing slightly. "What do you want, Tim?" She asks without turning. She must've known I was here, even though I was so focused on staying silent. 

"I just wanted to see if you got your medicine this morning." I release, watching her nod. 

"Yeah, I handled it." She answers, her voice rasping a little. I feel frozen in place, as she turns halfway around, turning her head a little more to look at me, now straddling the piano bench. "What are we?" She asks, leaving me stumped. "You said yesterday that you loved me, and you kept calling me baby, but..." She stops herself, before looking down at her hands. She turns all the way toward me, clasping her hands into her lap. "You don't look at me the way you used to... You look at me with... sadness... It's like it hurts you to look at me, when I used to make you smile." She says, making me feel sick to my stomach. 

"I can just tell you're in pain and--" I start, before she shakes her head. 

"Don't you dare lie to me." She warns, her eyes seeming to moisten. I stand like a deer in headlights, before shutting my eyes and searching for the right words and the strength to say them. 

"Before you were shot, I was finally getting back to the way I was before things fell apart... I was so damn close to the way I was, and then I completely lost you, because of a stupid argument and a goddamn drug addict. And I know it's wrong to pin that on you, because it's not your fault, but it hurts... It hurts to think about how close we were..." I confess, watching the words hit her. She winces, before nodding slowly. "I know that you're still you, but the dynamic has changed... You can't walk out on me, because you're only other option is a nursing home, and you cannot tell me that you're the same woman you were two years ago." I continue, seeing her look down at her hands. 

"I just don't want you to look at me like I'm some wounded puppy... You know me... You know how to handle me, and how to make me laugh. That still hasn't changed. I just... I want you to look at me like I'm okay, and then I can try to believe that I'm okay. It's hard to try feeling better when you're looking at me like I'm a cancer patient." She says. I nod slowly, feeling guilty. I know I've been doing it, but it's been so subconsciously that I'd hardly realized it lately. She nods in response, before turning toward the piano again. She ends the conversation without another word, allowing me to sulk away.