“What else?”
Whirling around, I glare at her. “None of your fucking business. This has nothing to do with you. I want you to leave my house and I don’t want you to come back.”
Standing her ground, she points her finger in my face. “It has everything to do with me. Fran left me because she thought she was a danger to me. If she thought she was a danger to you, why didn’t she leave you, too?”
“She did,” I said, deflated. “She did leave me.”
She backs against the kitchen wall and stares at the floor. Silent, we ignore each other for a few moments. Finally, I brush past her on my way to my bedroom. “Get out,” I say flatly, without looking at her. “Get out of my fucking house.”
I slam into my bedroom without waiting to see if she complies.
Chapter Nine
Dr. Brawley’s receptionist sounds entirely too cheerful when she answers the phone. I ask to speak to the doctor, but she’s with a patient.
“Okay, fine. I need to make an appointment then.”
“We have a cancellation at three o’clock today. Can you make it then?”
“Sure, just let me check my calendar.” I stare at the wall for a few moments. I figure, they make me wait when I’m there, I might as well take the advantage while I have it. “Three will be fine.”
“Thank you, Ms. McComb. See you this afternoon,” she chirps.
I’m half-tempted to just stay in bed until this afternoon, but I drag myself out of bed and head to the kitchen to feed Frank. A text to Sam confirms that she can take me to the doctor. Another text gets me a walking date with Roxanne. She shows up at my house in a light jacket and matching yoga pants. She looks fit and trim and for a second, I can see why I was hitting on her the other night.
We walk down the hill a bit to a path we created through the woods. It winds around until we crest the other side of the hill and look out over the sea. With scenery like this, it’s sometimes hard to imagine how I can still have stress in my life. Roxanne is easy company, perhaps picking up my contemplative mood. Walking in silence, enjoying the woods and the view of the water is helping to clear my mind. On an incline, we pick up the pace to add some cardio to the walk. Roxanne pushes us until we’re breathing heavily. I’m the one who finally slows us down.
Panting, I lift the bottom of my tank top and use it to wipe my face. “Are you trying to kill me?”
Roxanne laughs. “I’m twenty years older than you. You should be ashamed that I am in better shape.”
“It must be all of the hookers and blow. I just can’t sustain that rock star lifestyle and still keep up with you.”
We reach our favorite stopping point, but Roxanne keeps going. Mopping my face, I struggle to keep up with her. I’m calculating the return walk in my head already. Smiling, Roxanne glances at me over her shoulder. “Come on,” she laughs. “We’re doing an extra mile today.”
“We’ve already gone at least an extra half mile. By the time we get back, that will be an extra mile.”
“Stop complaining. I have another half mile after we get to your house.”
“I’ll drive you home.”
She laughs again. “Dana, it isn’t like you to be so anti-exercise.”
She’s right. I usually love a good hike. I’ve got to get my mind right. Being all wrapped up in my anxiety is bad for my body. Taking a few deep breaths to clear my head, I catch up to Roxanne and keep pace with her until she turns around. On the way back to my house, we keep up a pace that precludes conversation. At my front door, Rox gives me a quick hug and starts to leave.
“Wait, Roxanne.”
Turning back, she gives me a sympathetic look. “Yes?”
“About the other night...”
“It’s fine. You were in a bad place. I get that way, too.”
“Lonely?”
“Yep.”
“Depressed, anxious, and wracked with terrifying nightmares?”
She laughs. “Maybe not that bad.”
“I think I’m a wreck.”
“You’re not a wreck. You just need to readjust your mindset.”
“That’s one of those platitudes that’s easy enough to say.”
“That attitude is what I’m talking about,” she says.
We walk into my kitchen and I pour us both a glass of water. Wandering into the front room, I plop onto the couch and gaze out across the sea. Roxanne lowers herself gracefully beside me, waiting for an answer.
Finally, I sigh. “I don’t think I have an attitude. I think I have some genuinely shitty stuff going on in my life right now.”
“I’m not saying that you don’t. I’m sure I don’t know the half of it. What I do know is that spending all of your time worrying about what’s going on does nothing but make it worse. Instead of just dealing with problems when they happen, you’re anticipating them. So, you get to be upset about the same situation over and over again. And if nothing comes of it? You’ve still made yourself sick and anxious worrying over something that may not come to pass.”