Dave held me close. I was shivering violently, despite the fact that it was still summer. I just couldn’t stop shaking. I’d run out of tears hours ago, but the shaking hadn’t calmed down yet. My hangover hadn’t dwindled much because I refused to eat or drink anything, and my head only hurt worse from the violent sobbing that had occurred.
My life was one big confused shambles. I just wanted it all to stop. I was still sick, sicker than before, because I’d lost most of my ability to walk- or the will to.
“It’s okay,” Dave said for like the nine billionth time. I didn’t believe him though. In my drunken state, I’d cut myself. My unconscious was in charge, and it obviously thinks I should kill myself. I wished I would have just died. All this was way too much for me.
“Where’s Jeremiah?” I asked, my hands gripping Dave’s shirt like I was holding on for dear life.
“He’s at D.C.’s house.”
“I want to see him. I haven’t seen him in a while.” That wasn’t really true at all. Even though Dave and I had still been at odds, I’d baby sat for Jeremiah again the previous day before the show.
“Want to go get him?”
I nodded into his chest.
“Let’s go then,” his voice was soft.
“I don’t want to leave the house,” I whispered. After I realized that my dream wasn’t a dream, and that I was wearing only underwear and Dave’s t shirt, I broke out into hysterical tears, and Dave carried me outside and brought me home. There was no way I was going out again.
“You don’t have to get out of the car.”
“I don’t wanna.”
“I’m not leaving you here alone.”
I knew he was scared of what I’d do. Tears leaked out of my eyes, despite the fact that I thought I’d had none left. He thought I really did aim to kill myself. He didn’t think it was just a drunken stunt. He thought there was some merit behind it. Maybe there was. Maybe I wasn’t as drunk as I’d thought. Maybe I’d meant to do it. Maybe the reason I’d gotten drunk was because I wanted to be self destructive. I was shaking harder now. Dave took my face in his hands and kissed my cheek where the tears were leaving trails.
“Come on,” he said, lifting me, and carrying me out to the car.
It was raining, dreary, and sad. Thinking of Jeremiah made me feel better. He didn’t know about things like suicide and self loathing. He would smile and hug me and blow me kisses. He wouldn’t care if I couldn’t walk or function like a normal human.
Dave didn’t talk much on the ride there. He only put his hand on top of mine when I was picking at the medical tape holding the gauze onto my skin.
We arrived at D.C.’s house, and Dave told me I could stay in the car. I was afraid I couldn’t walk, but I wanted to talk to D.C. I tied the drawstring on my sweatpants tighter, took a deep breath, and followed Dave up to the door. My legs were shaky, but I did it.
“Hi guys,” she smiled, not looking at all confused as to why we were there for no reason.
“Can I take Jeremiah?” Dave asked.
“Sure,” D.C. looked a little too relieved we were taking him away. Dave went into the house and back into D.C.’s room.
“Sup?” D.C. asked.
We hadn’t really talked since the fight. That was old problems now. “Do you know of any good parties tonight or tomorrow night?” I asked.
“Yea,” she seemed pleased that I was asking, “Actually, there’s a really good one that one of my friends is having at her house, but it is only for strippers and their friends.”
“Oh,” I frowned.
“But I know of some others,” she offered.
“Great, call me later,” I said quietly as Dave emerged with the pink cheeked baby in his arms.
“See you, D.C.,” he seemed a little weird with her.
I took Jeremiah and hugged him. He giggled when I tickled his chin. “Tayma!” he squealed. That was his new name for me. I held him close and breathed him in. It made me sad to think one day that he would grow up to be like Dave. Dave was great and all, but he had his share of problems (not like I didn’t).
I spent the rest of the day at Dave’s house with Jeremiah and Dave. I felt like I was really J’s mother. I was his depressed little mommy who loved him, but had all sorts of psychological problems. I loved his daddy, but it was painfully obvious we weren’t going to stay together. However, once Dave and I broke up, I was not going to be remaining with the baby. It was almost painful for me to admit that Jeremiah wasn’t mind, and that when it was all over, we wouldn’t be together.
“Whatcha thinking about?” Dave asked, smoothing my hair.
Jeremiah was asleep on my chest, his thumb in his mouth. “The end,” I said.
Dave looked slightly disturbed, “The end of what?”
“Dave,” I sighed, looking into his face, “I’m not suicidal.”
He didn’t say anything.
“It’s just… I can’t take everything that’s going on. You, D.C., my blood pressure crap, this bulimia thing, Taylor…” Dave shushed me, putting his finger to my lips. I sighed. “I want to go home.”
I had to wake up Jeremiah to get up. Dave helped me stand. I just wanted to be in my bed. “Do you trust me?” I asked Dave as he helped me walk to the car.
“What do you mean?”
“Do you trust me?”
“Of course I trust you. What are you talking about?”
“I was just asking.”
“Trust you with what?”
“You, me, Jeremiah.”
“Huh?”
“Do you trust me with Jeremiah?” I asked, turning to him.
“Yes, Tay, I do.”
“Even despite…” I couldn’t make myself say it. Even though I tried to kill myself. Even though I caused myself bodily harm. Even though I can’t walk.
“Yes,” he kissed my forehead, “I still trust you.”
Dave took Jeremiah from me and put him in the car seat, and then helped me sit as well.
“Can Jeremiah stay at my house tonight?”
“If you really want him to,” Dave nodded.
“I do.”
“You still have the portable crib there?”
I nodded.
“Want me to stay, too?”
“No, it’s okay. I want us to bond. Heidi will be home. I won’t hurt him.” I added that because not only did I want to assure Dave of that, I wanted to assure myself also. I would not hurt him. I would not hurt anyone. I would not hurt myself.
