Escaping Reality

stairs of my family home to
    share my acceptance letter from the University of Texas with my mother. I
    can see the blue jean skirt and red tank top I am wearing, and the smell of
    the honeysuckle bushes off the side of our huge wooden porch is ripe in my
    nostrils. I reach for the doorknob to open it and freeze at the sound of my
    mother shouting. It isn’t about the money. It was never about money.
    “Amy.”
    I blink and realize that I am on the bed with Liam sitting beside me,
    his hand on my leg, and I do not remember how I got here. “I, ah…”
    “Blacked out,” he says. “You scared the fuck out of me.”
    “I’m sorry. I…” I sit up and lean against the headboard. “I’m okay.”
    It’s not about the money. I hear my mother’s voice in my head again and
    drop my face to my hand. Desperately at times, I have tried to remember
    my mother’s voice, to hear my mother’s voice, to remember the way she
    used to run around the house singing to the radio. But not today, not in this
    partially formed memory some part of me seems to be clawing to get at
    while another blocks it from entry. Maybe it isn’t even real. Sometimes I
    don’t know what is or isn’t anymore. I do not know how I can want to know
    the truth and fear it this badly.
    Liam’s hand settles on the side of my head and he presses his cheek
    to mine. “You’re okay, baby. I’m here and nothing is going to happen to
    you.” My hand goes to his, and I want to tell him it’s not me I’m worried
    about. It’s him. He strokes my hair and leans back, gently turning my face to
    his. “Can you walk to the car?”
    The dull throb in my forehead is easing, but I must not be
    clearheaded because I truly have no idea what he’s talking about. “Car?
    Where are we going?”
    “We need to go to the ER and make sure you’re okay.”
    I stiffen and fight through the clawing sensation in my gut, the
    aftermath of hearing my mother’s voice. “No. No ER. It’s cluster headaches.
    They feel eternal but they only last a few minutes.”
    “How often?”
    “They went away several years ago and just started again.”
    “Have you had an MRI?”
    “Yes. I’m fine. They usually can’t explain why they happen to
    sufferers. They just happen. I’m supposed to watch for triggers like stress,
    change of environment, and what I eat.
    I’m sure it’s the move.”
    “Do you take meds?”
    “There isn’t much they can do for them since they come fast and
    hard. Acupuncture helped. They went away for years after I tried it.”
    “And they just came back today?”
    “A couple of days ago.”
    His hands curve around my calves and he scoots closer. “Nightmares
    and cluster headaches. I’m not going to ask all the questions that come to
    mind. Not now, but sometime soon you’re going to have to tell me. You
    know that, right?”
    All too well, I think. “Moving here was a big decision, Liam. I’ve
    always been like this.
    Big things mess with me. It goes way back to my childhood Godzilla
    nightmares.”
    “I’ll take that answer for now as long as you agree to see a doctor.”
    “I don’t need a doctor.”
    “What if you’d been driving?”
    “I wasn’t.”
    “Or walking down the stairs. I’m going to be stubborn on this. You
    need to see a doctor.”
    “Acupuncture is what worked before. I’ll find a place to go.”
    “I think you should be checked out by a real doctor again to be safe.”
    “I’m not spending thousands of dollars for them to run MRIs and
    tests to tell me what I already know.”
    “Humor me and see someone. I’ll pay for it.”
    “Stop trying to spend money on me.”
    “Stop hyper-focusing on the money. This isn’t about—”
    My head pinches. “Stop. Stop. Don’t say it again. I get it. You have
    money and you spend $100 bills like it’s my penny. But I am not wasting it,
    no matter how much of it you have. I know what works and that’s
    acupuncture.” And it does. It’s how I’d recovered years before.
    Disapproval furrows his brow. “I’ll get you an appointment, but if it
    doesn’t work—”
    “It will and I can get my own appointment.”
    “But you won’t because you want to save money, which is exactly
    why I’m going to take some of the pressure off of you. Tomorrow I’m going
    to the leasing office and paying your rent for a year, and—”
    “No, I told you. I’m not going to take your money.”
    “It’s done, baby. No strings attached. No conditions. If you want