Page 57 of Beautiful Trauma
I nodded.
When they left, I took matters into my own hands. I promised Eli I would, and it was time for some small steps. Maybe I was being an asshole, but something had to be done, and I doubted Mish and Elle would get Cee into a shower tomorrow. Elle was right; they would probably have to drag her into the shower, and I wasn’t sure they had the physical strength to pull it off.
I rummaged through the cabinet with the medicine. I found her antidepressants and opened the capsule, dumping it into the vanilla latte I brought for her and stirring it in. Hopefully it didn’t make it taste like absolute shit. Desperate times and all that.
Entering her darkened room, I called out, “Hey, Cee. I brought you a coffee.” I put it on the bedside table. Her eyes were puffy and red, and she wore the same clothes she had worn days ago. I sat beside her, and she buried her face in the pillow.
“Don’t make me get into this bed with you, woman. Drink the coffee. It’s your favorite.”
“Just go, Serge. I want to wallow alone.”
I tsked. “Nope. Not happening. You’re stuck with me all night. The only way I’m leaving is if you take a shower and drink the coffee.”
“You’re an asshole,” she muttered.
“Just for that, I’m adding eating something to the list. C’mon. What’s first? I’ll let you choose.”
She groaned, “I’m not a child.”
“Listen, you can fight me all night, or you can do these things, get them over with, and I’ll leave you to your wallowing.”
She sighed heavily and sat up to reach the coffee, taking a healthy sip. Shit, this might work. “Happy now?”
Whew. It must have tasted normal. “Finish it while I get you something to eat. Anything you want.”
“I’m not hungry,” she grumbled, taking another swig.
“Then let’s get you showered.”
“I’m too tired to get up.”
“Bullshit. The caffeine will kick in.”
Cee rolled her eyes at me, and honestly, it was the most Cee-like thing I had seen her do in weeks. “Why are you like this?”
“Like what?” I asked, as if I didn’t know what she meant. Keeping her talking seemed like the right thing to do here.
“Annoying.”
“Because you smell bad, and Wyatt is coming tomorrow. I feel bad for the kid.”
She glared at me but continued drinking the coffee. “Fine. But I’m not washing my hair.”
“Whatever, we’ll just shave it off.” I stood to leave the room to find her something to eat in hopes we had some kind of momentum here.
“Fuck off, drummer boy,” she called after me.
I dug in the fridge and pulled out one of the many meals that had been dropped off by concerned friends. I kept the portion small, knowing she probably wouldn’t actually eat any of it, but wanting to give it a try, anyway. When I returned to the room, her coffee, half gone, was back on the table and her head was under the blankets.
“Cee. Get up. You’re supposed to be in the shower,” I ordered.
“I don’t want to.”
“I will literally pick you up and put you in there if you don’t go on your own.”
She snorted. “I call bullshit.”
I should’ve let her be. She’d seemed better than the day before and if I could get her to eat even a few bites, that would be enough progress for the day. But Wyatt wanted to see her, and I knew that it would at least make her feel a tiny bit better to hug her son. None of us wanted Wyatt to see her like this.