The Not-Outcast by Tijan

47

Cheyenne

Idid yoga and ran five miles this morning.

To quote Melanie, ‘Fuck yes.’ I was doing it.

I had my shit under control. Wrapped up tight.

All the wrapping…and I had an extra bounce in my step as I was going into Come Our Way.

Hard cardio in the mornings.

Eight hours of sleep… that was really more like four since Cut and I had been talking on the phone, and then my brain had a hard time shutting down after. But not a big deal.

I was eating healthy. Like, super fucking healthy.

I was drinking so much water that I was over-hydrated.

My brain was working. The cylinders weren’t overfiring.

No booze. My only stimulant was caffeine.

Meditation.

Medication …

I stopped in mid-step.

Medication.

Shit.

I’d forgotten to take my meds this morning. And I was thinking, remembering…

I couldn’t remember the last time I took them.

Backup.

I thought my cylinders weren’t overfiring, but maybe I was wrong.

I’d forgotten my meds, and feeling rising panic, I hurried to my office. Dean was coming out of his office, his coffee raised in greeting to me, but I muttered a quick reply and went around him. I was scrambling by now. My heart was trying to pound its way out of my chest.

I sat down, dug into my purse and pulled out my bottle. We weren’t supposed to travel with them, but shit, sometimes I had to, and I was running down the days and the numbers of pills I was counting out.

I was five extra.

Five days.

Five, that meant I forgot on Sunday.

Where had I been on Saturday? At Cut’s. I slept over, and the morning had been fantastic, and that’s why I forgot. Monday I was at his place again. Tuesday…I watched the game and I’d been out and about. Melanie crashed over that night.

I just forgot. Every day.

Shit, shit, shit.

This wasn’t good.

Last time this happened, I spiraled. You forget one thing this day, another thing the next day. Your mind is moving a little bit faster, clearer, and you go with it, but you’re forgetting and you’re forgetting that you’re even forgetting. So you don’t remember what you’re supposed to be remembering. Made sense, right?

No. It doesn’t.

It makes no sense, because your fucking brain doesn’t stop and add in stress. Add in one thing you forgot from a perfect recipe where you have to follow anything to have a semblance of a normal day for someone else, and you’re exhausted from just trying to be normal that you forget one fucking thing.

The whole pile falls over.

Down.

You’re fucked and you don’t realize you’re fucked until you’re so fucked that it’s currently happening. And you’re beyond fixing anything because meds take time to get in your blood circulation. Everything takes time.

Time. Time. Time.

You don’t have time sometimes when you’re trying so hard to be normal, and—yep, I was spinning. Right now. Right here. In my office, and I had a staff meeting, and they’d know because I was recognizing the speed of my own thoughts.

Racing.

Speeding.

I was no longer driving the bus.

The bus was getting out from under me. I was more on the side of the bus.

I’d be a passenger in the bus, and that was always bad.

There goes the camper that my bus was pulling. The fucking mental struggles I had, all in that camper, all behind me, and I was pulling them along, but pretending we were all copacetic together. There it is. It’s unhitched and it’s passing me and we’re all in a busy city intersection and that shit is going to crash into someone else’s car, and I have no control over any of it, because if I wanted to keep in control, I needed to not forget my fucking pills five days ago!

The room was starting to go around me.

My blood pressure was steaming.

Sweat trickled down my spine.

My hands were clammy.

My chest was getting tight.

Oh great. Hello, panic attack. This was a great time for you to join this sad and pathetic party.

A knock on my door.

“Who is it?” I cringed, not knowing if my voice even sounded normal anymore.

“Hey.” It opened and it was Reba. She was frowning, but to be honest, I was more paying attention to the three people at the coffee machine, and the smell of whatever Boomer was cooking, and—what did she just say?

She was looking at me.

She’d already said it.

Crap.

“I’m sorry. What’d you say?”

I had to concentrate this time. Harder. The hardest. The hardiest of the hard…and I missed it again.

She was frowning, and then a bulb clicked on and she came inside.

Oh, that helped. A little.

But I could hear the voices outside, and the clatter of pots and pans, and was there a larger than usual amount of people here today?

I must’ve asked Reba that, and she was looking at me all concerned. Shit. She knew. I walked inside with an extra bounce in my step, thinking I’d been slaying this dragon, and now I was in full-fledged panic attack mode even before the worst of the worse got to me.

“Cheyenne.”

She was speaking calm, and low, and she totally knew.

“Yeah?”

“Are you off your meds?”

An unhinged laugh came out of me, and before I knew it, I was laughing like a banshee. Head bent over my desk and I couldn’t stop. Full freak-out here I come.

It wasn’t usually this bad, or so soon. The panic hysteria was extra because Cut was coming back today. This morning. He might already be here.

I think he was, actually.

He said something about a meeting downtown, too. Or was that tomorrow?

I should’ve texted him.

Had I already?

Had he not texted me back?

Was he getting sick of me already?

But no. I was remembering that we had texted last night and there’d been a good morning text from him when I woke up, but he was on the plane. They did come back super early today.

I couldn’t remember the reason, but there’d been a reason.

Wait. Was that today? Tomorrow?

I was losing time now, too.

The charity event was tomorrow night, and last time I handled it by jumping into his pool and swimming for thirty minutes. This time, I didn’t know what to do. More running? I already ran five miles. I already did yoga.

I was already eating healthy.

I was already doing meditation.

I was already trying so hard to be so fucking perfect and no one got it.

“Hey, hey.”

Another knock on my door. This one was rough and abrupt, and the door opened. Dean came in, not looking, not waiting for permission. He took a step inside, not even looking over, already saying, “We have a surprise for you.”

Oh God.

I closed my eyes and let my head hit the desk, cradled by my arms.

Let me hide now, please world.

“Get out!”

“What? What’s going on? Cheyenne?”

“No. Out. Now. You knock and then wait for permission to come in. What if she’d been changing clothes, huh? What if she’d been on a private call? What if she just found out her grandmother was dead?”

“What? I’m confused. Her grandmother passed away?” He dropped his voice. “She never talks about family. I had no clue.”

Reba made a gargling frustrated growl. “Out. Now. And while we’re at it, meeting’s postponed till tomorrow.”

“What?! I have to finalize everything for tomorrow. I need to loop you guys in on everything.”

“Oh, why do you care now? You didn’t care when you made the decision to move forward with the event, and you’re the one who decided the invite list. This is your thing. You handle it on your own.”

“We have celebrities coming today to help serve. I wanted to tell Cheyenne who they were. What’s going on? Is there something going on I need to know about?”

“Out. Now.” Reba was firm, and she really needed to do more than watch Netflix every night. I had a feeling she’d be a trip in Prankland Territory.

I needed to gather myself, and I could do it.

I was freaking out on the inside, but faking and forcing was another motto I enforced. I was enforcing it now, and lifting my head, I made out that Reba was standing in front of Dean. She’d actually gotten him back outside the door and he couldn’t see past her.

I loved Reba. I really loved Reba.

The rest of the room was swimming and blurring together. Little bubbles were showing everywhere, but I could do this. A deep breath. Another one. A third one.

I dabbed at my eyes, making sure nothing leaked up there, and I wiped my hands over my face.

Calm.

Control.

No.

Fake.

Force.

Let’s do this.

I stood and came around my desk. “Dean.” Damn. My voice was a little wobbly. I swallowed and tried again, hearing it crack before it came out with authority. “I agree that there’s no point to our meeting about tomorrow. You’ve finalized everything already. You just want to cover your ass, tell the board you okayed everything with us if you get called up in front of them.”

Reba was still barring me.

My knees were shaky, so thank Reba again.

She was glancing back over her shoulder, and she saw me reach for the desk to steady myself. Yeah. She was staying right where she was.

“What is this, Cheyenne? Why won’t Reba let me in?”

“I’m in an indisposed state of undress right now.” Totally lying, but I could feel his immediate retreat.

I almost grinned at his, “Oooh! Oh. So sorry. I didn’t—I’ll knock and wait next time. I promise.”

He was skipping over my veiled threat.

“But…uh…Cut Ryder and Hendrix Sanderson are coming in today.”

“What?!”

Reba sent me a fierce frown.

“Yeah.” Dean was trying to stand on his tiptoes to see me. “It was a last-minute ask. They, themselves, reached out yesterday, and they’re set to arrive in an hour. They’re coming straight from the airport.”

I got that wrong, too. I thought he was already here.

Why won’t I ever get my shit together? Be good at this living thing? Not just adulting. I was trying for that, too, but living. Being functional. That was more my goal.

This would be comical to another person, in another setting. I’d laugh at this maybe in a year, but not now. Cut was coming here to work, and I was in this state.

Cue another attack—no.

I had to get on this. Again.

“Okay. I’m guessing that you’ll be here to run through everything?” Me. I sounded so professional. I also had cold sweat pouring out of me.

“Yes.”

Dean sounded like he couldn’t wait to gush over both of them.

Reba rolled her eyes at me.

I grinned at that, but asked, still impressing myself with how controlled my tone was, “And you’ve let Boomer know?”

“I ran it by him yesterday.”

Then there was no point in telling me because Dean had no idea about myself and Cut. Only a few did. So that meant since it was a last-minute appearance, he was trying to be extra teammate-y and not wanting to piss us off even further.

Wanker.

I wasn’t English, but that name made me feel better right now.

“That sounds good. I’ll be in my office working on a few things.”

There was quiet from the door, and Reba still wasn’t moving.

A second later, he left and she shut the door before locking it. Then, she harrumphed. “Ridiculous we have to lock it so our coworkers don’t barge into our offices. The guys who come and eat here aren’t the ones we’re concerned about. It’s the co-workers.” And she stopped to eye me up and down. “You okay, honey?”

I closed my eyes, drew in some air, and asked for calmness.

I didn’t expect it to happen, but one never knew about miracles. I’ve heard they happened sometimes.

“I’ll be fine.”

She sat, folding herself into one of my chairs. “I tell you I have a daughter?”

I was taken aback. “No.”

She started picking at her nails, running her hand over each end and holding her hands out to inspect them. “No? Well, I do. Had a husband. Got her out of it. Best marriage and divorce present ever. Couldn’t care less about him, but her, I’d wrestle a tornado if I needed. You got me?”

“So, it’s not all only Netflix and chill?”

She grinned before going back to studying her nails. “She’s in college. First year, and she calls me up first weekend she’s there. She’s having a panic attack. She’s been having panic attacks almost weekly. She and I, we’re taking the steps we need to, but those things are a bitch.”

The anxiety was subsiding, and exhaustion was filling in its place.

But my mind was still spinning. I could tell her how many times she chipped at her nails just sitting there, and I could tell her how many creases she had in her blouse, but she was telling me she understood.

She understood some of it.

“You think I’m crazy?”

She gave me a look. “I don’t like using that word, but everybody’s a little off. If you ain’t, then you’re part alien. That’s my philosophy. Don’t sweat it. You do what you have to do to get by, as long as it’s legal, you know. Me?” She went to her armrests and pushed up, standing. “I now have to go and rearrange the volunteer schedule because Dean didn’t think to tell me he was bringing in two celebrities today. Don’t think a bunch of reporters who were coming in on their own would be a good mix since it seems like these two want it on the down-low they’re here.”

She started for the door but glanced back. “You need anything from me?”

I had to tell her. It wasn’t a secret, but I’d just not gone public at work. That was a different thing.

I eyed her back, seeing that she probably knew because she had a whole knowing glint in her gaze. I said it anyway, “I’m in a relationship with Cut Ryder.”

Her mouth pressed in before she let out a grin. “Nice. You want me to usher him in here quietly?”

I considered it, but then shook my head. “You know, I think today is a day where it might help to turn my brain off.”

“You can do that with those two being there?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Cut’s supportive. I’ll let him know ahead of time, and he’ll understand.”

“Gotcha. And already he seems like a good one.”

Warmth rushed through me. “He is.”

And he was. He also proved it a few minutes later.

* * *

Me: Heard you’re coming here.

Cut: Yeah. I wanted to surprise you.

Me: I forgot my meds. My mind is spinning more than normal today. I’m going to be out there helping, but I’m going to zone out.

Cut: You’re going to do that thing where you work in the back with headphones on?

Me: I wanted to let you know so you don’t think I’m ignoring you or anything.

Cut: Are we keeping you and me secret there?

Me: Might help just with my spinning today. Is that okay?

Cut: As long as I get to see you tonight. Hendrix already mentioned having people over to his place to watch the games tonight since we don’t play until Saturday. You want to go with me?

Did I? Yes.

That was a normal thing to do, but this was me and I needed to do extra work to try and overcorrect everything.

Still…

Me: I’m in.

I wanted to try to be normal.