Odd Bedfellows

She was often surrounded by people and yet, somehow, the loneliness was crushing. How could such an invisible thing cause such a strong reaction, not just in her mind but in her body as well? Nothing worked right anymore – her appetite dwindled to nothing, her muscles ached, she was so tired but could never sleep. Betrayed by even her own self, she lay there on the bed, weeping silently.

She glanced at her phone on the bedside table. Text messages flashed on the screen. Her friends were concerned. But she couldn’t bring herself to read, let alone answer. She could guess what they said.

“I can’t breathe. This lawsuit is killing us.” She knew she needed to be there for Mary, but not today. It wasn’t in her.

“Goddamn teenagers. I am failing as a mother!” Anna could always be counted on for drama with her daughter.

“I hate him.” Sister Connie and her boyfriend/boss.

It was all too much. She just wanted to feel good and her usual strength for those around her was more absent than water in Death Valley.

She wanted someone to ask  - really ask, and really hear – how she was doing. She wanted to be told she was pretty, worth something, desired, admired. She ached to be found worth pursuing in a real way with real words and real voices and a real touch and feel. She wanted to be more than a distraction.

And yet she held back. It’s going to hurt again, she thought. It’s always going to hurt again. She felt her imperfections earned her the injuries large and small, and never really believed she deserved more than that. She'd been told that by people she loved and respected, so it had to be at least partly true, right? It just seemed that for so many people, there was just no room for error anymore. Missteps cost much more than they should. Communication was simultaneously very cheap, and very expensive.

Drying her eyes, and begging herself for the strength to rise, she made a plan to make peace with the loneliness.

And then her phone rang. 

She dropped it in the glass of water on her night stand.