"What can I say? People like to watch. If they're willing to pay, why not let them?"
. . .
Margeaux is a bad girl with good girl intentions. All she wants is a steady home with whatever family she has left. With no GED, no credit, and no bed to slee...
When I wake up in the morning, I'm unsure for a moment if last night really happened or if I dreamt it. But as I watch him standing in the kitchen, busying himself with anything he can find, everything starts to feel real again.
He sees me walking over and gives me a hesitant smile. "Hey," he greets me. "I didn't think you'd wake up before I left."
I twist my mouth. "I haven't gotten back into the habit of sleeping in beds yet."
He looks at me and tries to hide the worry from his face. "I'm sorry for last night, Go-go."
"It's fine," I assure him.
"It's really not."
I want to hug him, but I also don't want to set him off when I know he's already been triggered. "How long have you been having nightmares again?" I ask him. He shrugs and averts his gaze. "We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."
"Yeah, not right now."
Jamie busies himself with the two phones in his grasp. He has always been this way—loving and deeply compassionate when in control, then avoidant and impulsive when triggered. What we went through as kids made it so hard for him to deal with relationships, but it wasn't until we were teens that a diagnosis offered a treatable explanation.
Recognizing his triggers doesn't always stop the damaging behaviors, but it helps. So do the meds when he takes them. Both of us know the busier Jamie is, the less time he has to worry that someone will love him, or worse, stop loving him. As long as he's busy with something non-destructive, it's best to just let him do it.
He looks up at me again. "I have to go down to the studio for a reading. Are you still wanting to go by that temp agency later?"
"That's probably the quickest way to find a full-time job, right?"
"Yeah. It shouldn't be too hard to find something. Everyone's too busy trying to get discovered," he jokes. "This is yours now. I transferred your number, so you know what it is. The studio's address is pinned on Maps, and here's the bus app."
He shows me the screen and then leaves me with the shiny, new device. "This is amazing. Thank you."
"Don't mention it," he says. "I'll be done around six-ish. If we run late, the studio has free bagels and coffee in the lobby. And if you get lost or need anything at any point, call me."
"I will." He starts to walk away but I stop him by saying, "Hey."
He turns back to me with a questioning look. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him close. He barely hesitates before he snakes his arms around me and presses me closer.
"You're my favorite no matter what," I say the way I always do. "You know that, right?"
"Yeah, I know." He nuzzles his head closer to mine. "And you're mine."
I let him go and give him a big smile to restore his confidence. "I'll see you there," I say.
He gives me a nod. "See you there."
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