Seeing Julia Read Online Free

moving and I cry out in protest at his stilled movements.
    “Julia? We can’t do this,” he says against my neck. He sounds helpless, unsure, and even fearful.
    I feel hopeful and certain. I lift my head and try to focus on his face. “Yes. Take away this pain, Jake…please.”
    “No,” he says again. He pulls back away from me and searches my face for a moment. Then, he pushes off the sofa in a single motion and strides across the room and begins to pace, back and forth, running his hand through his hair in agitation.
    “Please. Take this pain away.” I don’t attempt to hide the desperation in my voice. I can feel myself spinning out of control.
    “I can’t. I can’t do this.” In a daze, I watch him as he tucks in his shirt and zips up his pants. He has this tortured expression as he moves toward me; he seems wary of me, now.
    “Please,” I say back to him as he comes to stand in front of me. I stand up, unsteady now and reach out and pull him closer. My lips find his again and he kisses me back. I lift my head and attempt to smile up at him. He holds me close and I register his heartbeat pulsing at my cheek.
    “We can’t do this,” he says in a resigned final kind of way.
    I’m desperate to stay in this heady state of feeling nothing, in this unfamiliar place, where grief hasn’t yet found me. I hold on to him even tighter and close my eyes and savor the feeling of falling backward into the dark abyss as I feel his arms around me. Unafraid now. The pain of grief is far enough away; there’s this sense of peace I haven’t felt in days.
    “Oh God. Please. Jake.”
    He answers me with the most gentle of kisses. This peaceful feeling comes over me. I can’t even be sure he’s actually kissed me again as I fight to stay conscious now. My arms and legs begin to feel strange as if somehow separate from me. I let go of him and seem to fall away.
    “Are you okay?” I hear him ask me from this faraway place. “Julia! Are you okay?” He sounds worried and I struggle to open my eyes to see why that is, even as he shakes me.
    “I’m fine. Not … starting over,” I whisper. The sweet darkness engulfing me is interrupted by this roiling sensation in the pit of my stomach. “Oh…God.”
    I push myself away from him and stagger toward the master bath. I’m dizzy from the sudden movement and clutch the furniture as I go. On some level, with swift clarity I know I’m going to be sick. Just in time, I lean over the toilet basin and vomit up all the food and drink I’ve ingested in the past two hours. I sink to the floor.
    Water is running. I turn my head and spy him at the sink holding a hand towel under the faucet with shaking hands. He looks scared and I wonder why.
    “Just go,” I say from my resting place at the toilet. Moving my head side-to-side causes me to feel nauseous again. Then, Jake’s there, pulling me up. He towels off my face with the wet cloth and grabs my chin and looks into my eyes.
    “How much did you take?” He shakes the vial of Oxycodone at me.
    “Enough.” I pull away from his grasp and violently vomit again and slink further down to the floor. My world of cognizance continues to shrink. I hear the shower water running. I’m suddenly pulled up again and shoved into it, still clothed in my black silk dress. I shriek at the cold and feel as though I’m drowning as water runs over me.
    “You’ve got stay awake!” Jake yells over the din of the shower and adjusts the water temperature, until it runs ice cold. “How many pills did you take?”
    “I don’t remember.” I shiver from the coldness of the water, while the narcotic chases through me at an ever increasing velocity.
    “Try,” he commands.
    “Eight or ten. I don’t remember. Maybe twelve. Enough,” I say with hostility. “I’m not starting over.”
    “Jesus!” He props me up against the tiled wall and steps away from the shower. Dully, I watch him go. From the open doorway, I gaze at him as he gets on