Coffee

Part Fifty-Two: Hard

Grabbing my things to head out for the day, I feel that familiar pull in my chest. The pull that tells me that I've over done it. Not even getting out my door, I sit on the sofa- the heaviness in my body collapsing me. I've been up since yesterday and even though I had so much sleep this last week- I am exhausted beyond everything. I don't even think I can stand, let alone walk two blocks to my house.

My poor dogs are probably crossing their legs and starving.

"You're still here?" Poking his head in, Max looks me over and then at his watch. "It's 8:00- you usually leave at 5:30."

"I know...I'm just...exhausted." Coming into the office, Max stands in front of me and puts both hands out. "What?"

"Come on. I'll walk you home." He seems refreshed- no doubt he took a power nap today. Or maybe he's just being stubborn with his body again.

"I'm fine really...I just need a moment." He nods a few times: trying not to be himself- where he's either pushing the intimate boundary line or stepping back too far to care. There's no in between with him.

"Do you want me to wait with you...until you're ready to go?" The middle ground is no place for Max. Offering help while allowing the other person to decide if they want it.

"That's okay....I think...I think I'm fine." Sucking in a breath to protest, Max quickly stops himself before he speaks. He's trying hard and I appreciate it. Immensely.

"Okay...Um...yeah...no problem, Helen." It takes him a few minutes to force himself to leave. It's sad to watch, but most likely even harder for him to do. Slowly standing up after a few minutes, I make my way down the hall to the elevators. Periodically, I slow down and use the wall for support. I over did. I went too far and too hard this time. My body feels like an Earthquake went through it and smashed my bones and tore my muscles.

The ride in the elevator is quiet. I don't know if I can make it home without taking breaks. I'm 35 years old, this shouldn't be happening to me- not yet.

Walking across the atrium, I hobble slightly- my heeled boots nearly twisting my ankles with every step as my body tries to fight my will to keep going. As I make through the doors, I notice wrong parked out front with the door open.

"Dr. Sharpe, I was instructed to give you a ride home." Fuckin' Hell Max. Can't even bloody keep to himself for more than five minutes.

"That's very kind of you, Ron. But I'm going to have to pass." Nodding his head- he doesn't argue. He gets back in the car after shutting the door and drives off to park in the garage.

The first nerve of him. Interfering when it's not wanted or needed.

The first block was rather easy- it seemed to go quick and painless. It's the second block however, that I start feeling even more weak and achy.  Stopping  near the convenience store, I lean against the building and try to just catch my breath. Everything burns inside me. My eyes are on fire and having them closed makes them feel better, but how in the hell can I expect myself to walk home without looking.

"Need a hand?" Opening my eyes, Max is there- hands outstretched and a soft grin on his face. "Or two?"

"You have a good way...of being both convenient and inconvenient...at the same time." I struggle to speak and he just looks down at the snow beneath us.

"I'm told it's a gift."

"Thank you..but you can return it." I jab slightly and he smirks.

"You don't have a receipt...so no returns I'm afraid." Rolling my eyes, I take both his hands and he helps me to my feet. "You're oddly warm...for not having gloves on...why don't you have gloves on?"