The Softer Side of Unbearable

When Matt woke up the next morning, he found Bailey pulling clothes from the closet and tossing them hapahzardly onto the bed. She seemed to be looking for something in particular, but she didn't have a lot of selection in the clothes that she kept at Matt's house.

"What are you doing?" he asked her groggily.

"Where's my grey sweater? Have you seen it?"

"You left it on the couch, didn't you?"

"Right," she nodded once. Without even so much as a glance in Matt's direction, she left the bedroom.

Sighing, he flipped back the blankets and followed her. She bustled around, throwing on the sweater and pulling her hair back into a ponytail as she hurried around the apartment. He watched her patiently as she dug out a couple of slices of bread from the freezer and threw them into the toaster.

"What's your rush? I didn't think you had anything planned today."

She looked up suddenly, as if just realizing that her behaviour could be viewed as peculiar. "I'm the bigger person," she stated.

Matt was confused. "Okay..."

"I'm going to see Angel. You were right, and I need to get it over with. Without Jeff there, maybe I'll be able to work up the courage to tell her everything that's been bothering me."

"Oh!" Matt nodded in understanding. "Good for you, Bailey. Do you want me to come with you?"

She appeared to be sheepish when she looked at him then. "Please. But you don't have to come into the room if you don't want to. I just need to know that you're there."

He gave her a caring smile. "I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't prepared to go. Don't feel bad about needing moral support. After the year that you've had, no one would blame you if you needed an army to go in with you. I'll go get dressed. Make me some toast too, okay? I'll be right back."

"Do you want peanut butter on it?" she called after him.

"Surprise me."

Within ten minutes, Matt was driving Bailey toward the rehab center. He could see her nervously picking at her nails out of his peripheral vision. He was anxious himself; how could he possibly expect her to be calm? When he pulled into the parking lot and cut the engine, everything went silent. Bailey continued tearing at her nails as though nothing around her was affecting her.

"Well?" Matt prodded carefully.

"Just give a minute. I need to figure out exactly what I'm going to say in there."

"Okay, take your time."

The silence settled in once again. After an agonizing ten minutes, Matt cleared his throat. Bailey looked up at him.

"Am I taking too long?"

"No," he lied. "Not at all. I just wanted to know if you're okay."

"I'm fine," she opened the passenger door and climbed out. "Let's get this over with."

Matt hurried out of the truck and rushed to her side. He matched her frenzied pace as she rushed into the elegant building. Bailey marched purposefully up to the front desk. The receptionist, a thin woman in her early thirties, smiled pleasantly.

"Hello there," she greeted them cheerily.

"Hi," Bailey, in contrast, was all business. She leaned forward over the front counter and clasped her hands together. "I'm here to visit a patient."

"Oh, wonderful. Everyone appreciates it when they get visitors in here."

"Yeah. Great. I've already been in to visit her, so I know which room she's in. Can I just go?"

"Who, exactly, are you here to see?"

"Angel Corbett."

The receptionist's pleasant face clouded. She began typing rapidly on her computer, but she didn't speak.

"What is it?" Bailey demanded.

"One moment, please."

Bailey looked over her shoulder at Matt. Her eyes were tight; something was wrong. Clearly, this had not been the protocol last time she had come to visit Angel. Matt stepped up to the counter beside her.

"Is there something that we should know?"

The woman looked up with worry in her face. "Well, the thing is, Angel is no longer at this facility."

"What?" Bailey's tone was sharp and jagged. "What do you mean?"

"It's a voluntary clinic," the other woman sounded apologetic. "She was free to check out whenever she felt ready. She left last night."

"How could you just let her go? She needed help!" Bailey was yelling now. Her eyes were tearing up, and she felt choked.

Matt put his hands gently on her shoulder and tried to pull her away. "Come on, we'll find her. Calm down, Bailey."

"No, Matt! This is not okay! She was finally getting help, now what is going to happen to her?" She twisted away from Matt's hands and rounded on the receptionist again. "She's gone? Where the hell did she go?"

"I'm not sure, ma'am," the receptionist cleared her throat. "We don't have that information."

"Well then find someone who does!"

This time, Matt grabbed her more roughly. He held on to her shoulders with a vice-like grip. "Bailey, this is not her fault," he told her in a commanding tone. "She doesn't control who stays and who leaves any more than you do. And you know damn well that if Angel wanted out, nothing was going to stand in her way."

"Yeah, but-"

"No buts," Matt said sternly. "Let's go and find her, okay? We won't solve anything by yelling at the staff."

Bailey let him guide her away from the front desk. Before she walked out the door, however, she turned back to give the receptionist one last look. "I hope that everyone here realizes that she's going to die because of you!"

"Bailey," Matt pulled her outside. "Stop it."

"What do you want me to do?" she snapped. "We have no way of knowing where she went. What if she found a dealer and overdosed last night?" A choked sob escaped her lips. "She could be dead, Matt. I can't go through this again. I can't help her. And I can't give a eulogy at her funeral, either. I'm at the end of my rope."

"I know," he put an arm around her shoulders and started walking out to the truck. "Don't worry about any of that just yet. We'll call Jeff, and Angel's family. Someone is bound to have heard from her."

Bailey tried to stop herself from bursting into tears. Instead, she let out a sad and pitiful moan. "Take me home, Matt. Please?"

"Are you sure?"

She nodded as he helped her into the vehicle. The ride back was quiet; Matt even turned off the music. There was nothing that could be said to make it better. There was nothing that Bailey wanted to hear. After all that he'd seen her through, Matt knew exactly when she just needed space. This was definitely one of those times.

When he pulled up to her apartment building, he simply stared through the windshield at the wall in front of the truck. Bailey didn't move, either. After a time, she sighed.

"Are you going to come up?"

"No, I'm going to call around and see if anyone knows where she is."

"You don't have to do that."

"Yeah, I really do."

She leaned across the seat and planted a light kiss on his cheek. "Thank you. If you hadn't been there to haul me out..." she left her sentence hanging. Her unspoken words radiated in the small space. She already felt ashamed of herself. That receptionist hadn't deserved to be berated and attacked. Bailey just hadn't been thinking clearly. She felt slightly ill now.

"Don't mention it. Bailey, I promise you that this will be okay. Even if something happened to her, you'll be okay," he told her sincerely.

"I'm kind of trying to stop myself from hoping that she's alive. It'll be easier that way if we find out she's dead."