I stand in the bathroom, staring at my phone until my thumb goes numb. My message is short and simple.
Me:
If you can see this, please know I’m coming. I’m not leaving you. I’m not letting him win.
I know he won’t see it, but I hit send anyway. The little notification pops up:
Not Delivered
Like a punch in the gut.
I swallow hard, eyes burning. Heather comes up behind me before I even realize I’ve started shaking. She wraps her arms around me, and the warmth of her body calms my jittery nerves. I don’t move. I just let her hold me.
“Are you okay?” she asks, her voice a whisper.
“Yeah.”
We stand like that for a long moment, and then I move to the mirror, forcing myself to look at my own face. Heather stays beside me, her shoulder against mine. We stare at our reflections like we’re seeing ourselves for the first time in a while.
“This is crazy,” she says quietly.
I nod, my throat tight. “I’m so sorry for dragging you into this.” I turn my head to look at her. “I’m serious. You didn’t need to come with me or do any of this.”
Heather’s hand finds mine and squeezes gently. “I want to, trust me. I love Jude, too. I always believed he was your truest love.”
I manage a sad smile, remembering how we once loved each other. Remembering that bright, beautiful boy I met on the dock.
“And ifanyoneis strong enough to do this,” she continues, “it’s you.”
I almost laugh, but it turns into a sob. “Thank you,” I whisper, voice cracking. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Her eyes water, letting a few silent, heavy moments pass. “I’m so sorry, Emma.”
I squeeze her hand back, and gratitude floods my chest. “I’m grateful you’re doing this with me,” I say. “I don’t know how I’d survive without you. I don’t know how I’d manage losing him again. You give me strength.”
Heather smiles. “If I remember correctly, we had a similar conversation during finals week.”
A laugh bursts from me then. “God, that was hell. I don’t think we ate a home-cooked meal for like three weeks. I was so stressed.”
She huffs. “Ah, when tests were the scariest thing in the world...”
I nod, and we stare at each other. My best friend. My hero.
The bathroom door opens, and Micah steps in, eyes landing on his pill bottle by the sink. “I’m taking my med,” he says casually. “Sorry for interrupting.”
I blink. “Oh. Right. You’re fine.”
He lifts the pill out and places it under his tongue. I watch him do it, and I can’t help but feel a loosening in my chest.
“You’re doing good,” I tell him softly.
He gives me a tired smile. “I’m doing more than good.”
“You know what Suboxone does?” Heather asks.
I shake my head, curious.
“It’s a partial opioid agonist,” she says, suddenly in nurse mode. “So it binds to the same receptors in your brain that heroin does…but it doesn’t give you thehigh. It just keeps you from going into withdrawal. It’s really useful for people with opioid addictions.”