The Beauty in Eternity

Chapter 95.

Amara's POV:

When I finally get home the key is under the matt, just where I asked Mason to put it. I feel guilty for being so off with him before, but I just didn't know how to act around him after everything.

There isn't much else to do besides sleep, I haven't had a proper dinner, and I barely ate any lunch—but I'm too exhausted to even attempt to cook, and equally too exhausted to wait up long enough for a pizza delivery.

I have a sinking feeling in my stomach when I go to bed, one that I hope shifts by the next morning—my last day of work that isn't night shift for a while.

——————

When I wake up, just as I expected—I feel worse. I sit up and notice that I'm shaking, I hadn't had a nightmare—not that I remember, but I feel so anxious that I thought for a minute I might throw up. I don't have a reason to feel this way, it just happens sometimes. Some days are worse than others.

I take my medication and hope that the knotting in my chest will ease by the time I have to leave for work.

I wait and wait for it to ease, but the thought of going to work still makes me feel physically sick. It frustrates me, my anxiety. It's something that's hard to understand; when some days, despite everything being okay—it feels like your chest is being flattened by this weight that you can't shake.

My phone buzzes, it's a text message. Mason.

*You up? This is a reminder to water that cactus.*

I chuckle a little. I pick up the phone and call him—he answers within the first few rings. I don't really know what to say when he picks up.

"I just wanted to..," Hear your voice. "Thank you for reminding me to water the cactus."

"You're welcome. Trying to revoke the plant killer title?" he jokes.

"Yeah, something like that." I chuckle.

I don't want to end the call. I don't particularly have anything else to say, but I just don't want to end the call.

"You okay?" he asks.

"Yeah, I just don't feel well today." I reply. It's easier than the alternative explanation—that nothings wrong, it's just anxiety. Anxiety that didn't exist much at all before losing Carol, Mason, my mom's relapse and the Italy fiasco.

"Take the day off work."

"I can't do that." I sigh.

"Amara, I bet you haven't taken one day off since you started at that place."

I start to object and then pause; he's right, I haven't. Even on my bad days.

"I'll take your silence as a yes."

"I don't take days off, Mason." I say.

"You should. It's how you get better," he tells me. "We'll grab coffee, or those smoothies you like... if you still like them."

I smile that he remembered. "I do."

I'm the biggest advocate for taking time to yourself when your mind needs it—maybe I should take my own advice for once. Plus, the thought of spending time with Mason almost soothes my stresses.

"Okay."

"Okay? Really?" he asks in surprise.

"Yes," I chuckle.

"I feel like we're kids and I'm asking you to skip school." he jokes.

"I want to shower and eat first, come over around noon and pick me up?"