“Hi baby,” Joey said softly as he sat down next to the woman laying in bed, the covers pulled up to her face and looking at the wall. He ran a hand comfortingly up and down her back. He looked at the walls with a bit of chagrin, thinking it was humorous that she'd pick the set of “I Drive Myself Crazy” as her place to run to.
“Hey,” Melissa sighed at Joey's touch, rolling over to look at him, interlocking his fingers with hers at the hand that was on her back. “You came,” she gave him a soft smile, letting a tear roll down her cheek. He always came. She could count on Joey.
“Always,” Joey leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Bad day?” he asked, moving around so that he could lay down beside her when she pulled him into the bed. Doors opened and shut, voices moved past the room, but he knew it was all just noise. “Come on Melly. Talk to me...” he half whispered, running a thumb over her cheek when another tear fell.
“What is there to say Joey? I have good days and bad days. I feel like I'm drowning. When it's bad it's all I can do to pull myself out of bed. Everything makes me sad. It swallows me. And as much as I know I shouldn't stress over things, I do.” She put her arms around him and buried her face in his neck and let out a sigh.
“Did you miss me?” Joey asked, an amused tone in his voice. He knew all of this was fake. The bed, the room, the hospital..even him. It was a coping mechanism as well as entertainment. And when she needed him, he was there. Like now, as he held her close and let her cry.
“I always miss you. I haven't been able to write. You've been quiet...” she told him, her voice thick with tears.
“I will do whatever you want. You know that. But...if you doubt yourself. I can't do what you don't write. I mean, you have Chris stuck in upstate New York with no story line. He's willing if you write it.”
“You know this is insane right? Me giving myself a pep talk..” she smiled a little.
“Better than drowning, baby. Some things, you have to let go. You can't change them. You can't make it better by being sad,” Joey told her gently. “See you're writing this...”
“This is all nonsense. Who writes a conversation with their muse?”
“Any author that writes. I'm sure Stephen King has some good muses. And some good weed.” Joey smiled at Mel, who was smiling. The first time she had in weeks. “My job here is done,” he leaned in and kissed her softly.
“You aren't leaving me, are you?” the momentary look of panic crossed Melissa's face.
Joey started shaking his head as he pulled her in closer. “No baby, we're just getting started.”
Story Notes:
It's not long at all, but needless to say I have been stuck in writers hell (not writing) for a very long time. And my ever present favorite muse (okay one of them..so Chris doesn't pout)gave 'me' a much needed pep talk. As crazy as it sounds, I'm thankful for the muse for the encouragement.
Completed
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