Page 9 of Entangled
“What’s going on?” Austin is never anything but jovial. His sudden change in demeanor worries me.
“She’s got perinatal depression. It’s been real hard, man. I can’t doanythingright. She cries all the time, and I don’t know how to help her.”
“Just be there for her. Sometimes all you can do is listen.” I point out the window toward his cabin. “Since she’s having all that trouble, is she cool with you staying here right now?”
Austin rubs the back of his neck. “Not really, but I needed a little mental health break myself. I’m not trying to be selfish, but I can’t be there for her if I’m fallin’ apart too, you know?”
“What’s happening with you?”
“Just residual shit from Alaska.”
This past August, Austin, Jake, and their actor friend, Wes Emerson, went on a guys’ trip to a remote lodge in the Far North. After an excursion went awry, they were lost in the Alaskan wilderness for three weeks. They almost didn’t make it out alive. “I thought I was fine, but I guess I’m havin’ a hard time coping. It’s weird being back in the real world after everything we went through. I’ve been anxious as fuck, and I don’t wanna drag Katie down any further. I’ll head back to Memphis in a couple days once I get my shit together.”
“Good call, my friend.” If he’s smart, he’ll put his family first. PTSD kept me from doing that and caused me to lose my wife. Although something tells me Chelsea wasn’t in it for the long haul to begin with.
My phone rings on the coffee table. I lean forward and glance at the screen. It’s Dahlia. I was supposed to call her. I should’ve done it on my way home because I really don’t have the energy to talk right now.
“Do you need to grab that?” Austin asks.
“I probably should.” Retrieving the device, I silence the ringer.
“I’m gonna head home and give Katie a call before bed.” He rises and pats my shoulder. “Get some sleep, man.”
“I will. You too. Thanks for the beer and food.”
“Anytime.” He gives me a wave and heads out the door.
I reluctantly answer my little sister’s call. “Hello?”
“If I make lasagna instead of turkey, will you change your mind?”
“What?” I gulp the rest of my beer and set the bottle by the other empties, hoping the liquid patience reaches my bloodstream quickly. Dahlia often speaks in riddles and is a professional topic hopper. It’s not uncommon for me to have no idea where a conversation is headed.
“I’m talking about Christmas, dummy.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I already told you I’m not doing Christmas.”
“No, you said you’dthinkabout it.”
“Dahl, if you had any idea what kind of day I had…” I stretch out on my couch, my limbs using the opportunity to remind me of their exhaustion.
“What happened? Flat tire? Lost packages? Please don’t tell me you crashed the company truck?”
“Well, no. It was nothing like that.” I yawn and rub my eyes. While the last thing I feel like doing is recounting the day’s insanity, I know my sister. She’s liable to hop a plane to check on me if I don’t serve up some details. “Have you ever heard of the investment company, Punzel Enterprises?”
She snorts. “Yeah, because I’m a stockbroker over here.”
I roll my eyes at her sarcasm. “Art teachers can invest their money too, you know.”
“Ugh. Don’t go there. Anyway, you were saying? Punzel Enterprises. Continue.”
“I met the heiress.”
“And?”
“She assaulted me with a sex toy.”
There are a few beats of silence. “Get the fuck out. Seriously?”
