He Stopped Protecting Me When She Came Back

2: 2

That was how I stayed, curled up on the carpet until the sky went pale.

Roderick walked over and tossed a dress onto the coffee table.

He looked down at me, still shaking, and his voice was flat.

"Put it on. We're taking Florence out to lunch, a welcome-back."

I shook my head. My throat couldn't shape a whole sound.

The ache from being off the medication hadn't faded, and even the whir of the elevator opening and closing outside cut into my ears until they rang.

Roderick bent down, closed his hand around my wrist, and hauled me up off the floor.

"Exposure therapy is the most effective method there is. You can't hide at home and rot for the rest of your life."

The pull made me stumble, and a red ring surfaced fast around my wrist.

"I'm not going. Not today."

Florence leaned in from the doorway, her tone all coaxing.

"Maggie, avoiding it only makes the fear bigger. Give Roderick a little faith, won't you?"

Roderick looked at her, and for a second his eyes softened.

When they turned back to me, his grip only tightened.

"Be good. Don't make this hard for me."

The private room was brightly lit.

A dozen-odd people sat around the round table, all of them friends who'd watched how Roderick had taken care of me these three years.

Someone saw me and joked with a grin.

"His wife finally comes out of hiding. Rough three years for old Rod, huh."

I sat in the corner, fingers twisting the hem of my dress, my chest cinching tighter and tighter.

Florence carried over a cup of warm water and set it beside me, her voice low but pitched just right for the whole table to hear.

"Everyone, stop looking at Maggie like she's a patient. Too much sympathy just locks her into the patient role. She's actually very healthy now. Right, Maggie?"

A dozen pairs of eyes settled on me.

I opened my mouth, and only a thread of breath came out.

Roderick sat beside her, tapping the rim of his glass with his fingertip.

"Say something. Don't always make people cover for you."

Someone laughed a little.

"Depression isn't a death sentence. Come on, that's enough already."

"Right, Rod circles around you every single day. Anyone would be worn out."

"Florence comes back and a few moves get you out among people. Professionals really are different."

The words drilled into my ears like fine needles.

I clapped my hands over them, my body starting to shake beyond my control.

Florence bent down and pressed lightly on my shoulder.

"See, the avoidance response is coming out. Don't be scared, we're all here to help you."

Her perfume drifted close.

It was the scent on Roderick's collar last night.

I shot to my feet, my knee slamming the edge of the table, and knocked the glass over.

Red wine splashed all over Roderick.

The room went quiet.

Roderick looked down at the stain on his shirt and wiped at it slowly with a napkin, the tendons standing out on the backs of his hands.

I couldn't catch my breath. I sank down to the floor and dug my fingers into the carpet.

"Take me away, Roderick. Please, take me away."

Before, at times like this, he would pull off his jacket and drape it over my head and carry me out.

But this time, he only watched me, cold.

"Are you done with the scene?"

Florence caught his sleeve and coaxed him gently. "Don't blame her, this is withdrawal. If you take her out now, the whole point of the exposure is wasted."

Roderick closed his eyes for a moment, then turned and sat back down.

He picked up his water glass, his voice pressed very low.

"Maggie Fox. Stand up on your own and walk back to your seat."

I tipped my head up to look at him.

My vision was blurred with tears, and all I could see was him and Florence sitting very close.

Florence passed him a napkin, her fingertips resting a second in his palm.

He didn't pull away.

I looked at him in despair, tears hitting the carpet. "And if I can't get up?"

Roderick looked at me, nothing left in his eyes but tired indifference.

"Then keep crouching. I won't lift you up again."

Someone said under their breath, "Old Rod's finally grown a spine."

Florence raised her glass and touched it lightly to the rim of Roderick's.

"Roderick, you did really well."

The whole table started laughing and talking again, and no one looked to see whether I could breathe.

Roderick even laughed along with them.

The string in my chest that had been pulled taut for three years suddenly snapped.

My fingers were still hooked into the carpet, blood seeping out along the edges of my nails, but I couldn't feel the pain.

I stood up, slowly.

Roderick seemed to breathe easier.

"That's more like it. Stop making everyone revolve around you."

Holding onto the wall, I pushed open the door of the private room and walked out into the rain.

Roderick didn't come after me.

The rain soaked the hem of my dress fast, the cold climbing up my legs.

Hands shaking, I fished my phone out of my pocket, meaning to call my psychiatrist.

But before I could press the call button, everything went black, and a violent, suffocating wave swallowed me whole.