Just get through it and get out of here. The sooner I jump through their hoops, the sooner I can get a little privacy.
“I lie awake at night or stand in the shower trying to find a name for the piece of me that’s suddenly gone. It doesn’t feel like I’ve relapsed. It feels worse.”
Doctor Loftin nods. “You’re capable of great self-reflection, but there will be times when your self-reflection shows you painful things. You haven’t been through one of those times yet, but I think you are now.”
“Are you saying that if I was stupider, I’d still be living in blissful ignorance?”
Doctor Loftin gives me a thin smile. “The feeling you described sounds like grief.”
“But no one’s died.”
“You can experience grief for any number of reasons, not only after a death. Loss of a career. Status. A role you once played.”
What about a life you’ll never live?
I think of that other Lacey, holding Stian’s hand and speaking of things which are theirs. I wonder if she’s out there in some other universe, tracing the patterns of his tattoos with her fingers. Sleeping in his bed. Being held by him.
I look back up at the window as tears slip down my face. “He wanted me to be his girlfriend.”
We sit in silence together for a few minutes, and then Doctor Loftin describes the five stages of grief to me and what I can expect in the weeks ahead. She suggests I keep a diary of my feelings, and I give a non-committal answer. I know what my feelings are going to be. I’ll feel like crap.
Two days later, one of the nurses finds me again after lunch. “Lacey, you have a visitor. You can go through to the meeting room.”
I frown. My parents came yesterday and Doctor Loftin isn’t due until tomorrow. I want to ask who it is, but the nurse has hurried off to deal with a tantrum that has suddenly erupted on the far side of the ward.
I suppose it’s dad, because he didn’t say much yesterday. Mum was doing all the talking, and he just seemed unhappy.
When I open the door, I don’t see dad.
It’s Stian.
I stop dead at the sight of him, my injured heart thumping painfully in my chest. He’s wearing jeans and a dark blue T-shirt with a brown sports jacket. His blond hair is rumpled as if he’s been running his fingers through it. When I look into his eyes, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a shade of blue so clear and pure.
He stands up and comes around the table toward me, but I flinch away when he reaches out to hug me. My body is a ruin. I don’t want him to touch me.
His arm drops to his side, and he says softly, “Hey.”
I fold my arms tightly across my chest. “Hey.”
He goes back to his chair and stands by it, waiting for me to sit down with him. Hesitantly, I do. We face each other across the Formica, his hands on the tabletop, mine crammed into my lap. I gaze at the symbols tattooed above his knuckles.
I am the runemaster.
“I’ve missed you,” he says.
I don’t know what to say to that. What has he missed? My neuroses? My weakness? My inability to have a normal human interaction with him?
“I can see from the expression on your face that you don’t believe me. I wouldn’t lie to you, käraste. I’ve fucking missed you.”
“Have you found a new assistant yet?” I ask hoarsely.
Stian sits back, and his jaw flexes. I’ve seen this happen when he’s been annoyed by other people, and it always amused me, like a secret only I knew about. Now he’s annoyed because of me and it’s not funny in the slightest.
“I’ve got a temp from an agency, someone to manage admin. I’ve had other things on my mind.”
Silence stretches between us. He’s not going to leave until he gets something meaningful out of this encounter, and I need to find a way to show him that coming again will be useless. I can’t be the Lacey he wants me to be.
“Welcome to my humble abode. I’m sorry I can’t offer you anything.”
He’s not impressed by my lame sense of humor. I pick at my sleeve for a moment, trying to think of something to say. As with Doctor Loftin, I just have to get through the worst of this so everyone will leave me alone. The more I see Stian the harder this will be for me. I don’t want to be reminded of the thing I want most.
“Do you remember getting out of bed and taking that call the other week?” I ask him.
He frowns, and nods.
“While you were gone I flicked through a book on your bedside table. About Viking artifacts. I saw a diagram of the tattoo you have on your shoulder.”