In works…

Of all the nights, tonight the diner is full of laughter and conversations.

I’m tugging at my skirt again for what it feels like the millionth time, the leather material ridding up my tights showing more than I’m comfortable every time I fidget in my chair. I regret allowing Hannah to play dress up with me. I would’ve much rather had my black hoodie on, the one with frayed sleeves, that gramma passed on when I was accepted to Harvard University. The level of frustration pilling up inside me is overriding the anxiety of accepting this blind date in the first place.

My fingers are tapping impatiently against the blue tablecloth. My supposed date is late. There’s a subtle discomfort tugging at my conscience for keeping occupied a table while other people are waiting in line for food and a good time. Something I was promised to have but not delivered. I pull my phone out of my bag and text Hannah for the first time since I sat down.

“Who the heck is this guy Han? He is 15 min late. I cannot believe I let you talk me into this.”

The diner door opens and I look up distracted hopping that maybe my date is finally here. Disappointed tugs at my insides when the hockey team strolls in bringing with them a gust of spring breeze. A shiver runs down my spine and goosebumps settle on my bare forearms. They turn everyone’s attention with their loud laughter and sure one might say gorgeous faces. Every single one of them knows how to play a crowd and how to captivate a girl’s attention. There’s smugness in every inch of their bodies, which if I am honest with myself sometimes envy. It must be nice to know your spot in the world and the power it brings with it.

I sigh because this is exactly why I wanted to stay at home. It makes it easier for one to feel secure in their little bubble when one avoids confrontation with reality. I don’t date. Not after… I curb that thought as soon as it poops into my mind because nothing good can ever come out of it. I promised Hannah and dr. Sanders that this year will be different. That I will put myself out-here and see what comes out of it.

Jake Hawkins, captain of said hockey team is last to enter the diner. He’s sporting a pair of black cargo pants and the Harvard’s hockey team hoodie and I sigh because nobody should be allowed to look like that and walk unrestrained through the world. He laughs at something his teammates say and the dimple on his left cheek that pops every time he smiles is good enough to make a girl forget her name.

Not this girl.

The waiter comes to lead them to their booth. She’s in her early twenties with braided blond hair across her shoulder and a pretty girl next door face. Jake whispers something in her ear and winks at her when she giggles softly. I can see the blush flowering on her cheeks from across the room and I roll my eyes involuntarily. He turns around to scan the room and a pair of gorgeous green eyes stare me down in surprise. I can’t actually see his eyes from here. But I know how they look. Hannah has a Harvard hockey calendar right above her bed and his September photo has been with us for over a year now.

I realize I’ve been staring back at him for more than what should be appropriate when a frown of curiosity deepens between his brows and I experience an unexpected rush of heat, making its way down the tip of my toes I shift my gaze to my hand at the same time as Hannah’s message pops onto my screen.

“I am sorry Brie. He still hasn’t showed up yet? Alex said he’s a cool guy and you guys have a lot in common. I swear I’m going to cut his balls off for standing you up.”

I smile lightly at the show of solidarity. Hannah …. A throat clearing makes me jump out of my skin and I knock over the milkshake glass in front of me. I feel the pricks of embarrassment rising bright red onto my cheeks while I try to reach for the glass before it rolls off the table and dab the contents of the spilled milkshake from the tablecloth.

“Sorry for that” a masculine voice breaks through the blood pounding loud in my ears. “Also, sorry for being late. After the storm last night the roads are shit, and I had to drive slower than usual.”

Slowly I bring my eyes up to the person in front of me. He gives me a sheepish smile and sits down across from me. I nod in understanding. The storm from last night had left the streets damp and gleaming under the streetlights, and the fog that lingered the morning after was enough to scare someone to venture outside. The air was still thick with the earthy scent of rain-soaked soil and the chill of early spring.

“Hi. You must be Brieanne. I’m Drew.”

The sound of my name on his lips makes me wanna bail this date altogether. Nobody calls me that anymore and sometimes my full name brings a pang of distress inside my chest. But I shouldn’t fault him. He doesn’t know what that name brings with it. I’ve considered legally changing it a dozen times, but gramma Jossie chose it for me and she was my favorite person in the entire world. Sometimes I convince myself that I’m honoring her by not giving the past power to sink its dispair into me.

He reaches a hand towards me and I shake his back awkwardly.

“Hi. Just call me Brie. Nice to finally meet you, Drew.”

The same waitress that Jake winked at comes back to our table and takes Drew’s order. Another wave of laughter distracts me in the hockey team’s direction and it throws me out of balance when I notice that Jake’s eyes meet mine once again.

“Noisy bunch. Hockey players.”

The retort brings me back to my date but all of a sudden I’ve lost all interest and I just wanna get out of here. It does not help that my date keeps glaring at his phone.

“Somewhere important you need to be?”

I retort more bitter than intended. He looks back up at me and reaches a palm to scratch at his neck looking guilty.

“Not really.”

We look at each other uncomfortable not knowing how to continue with this conversation. A message chimes on his phone and now he’s texting back. I study him maybe for the first time he sat down. Light brown hair, reaching his shoulders. He’s wearing a blue blazer and a pair of grey checkered pants. His lips are pursed in a barely there smile and his eyes crinkle at the corners. Whomever he’s texting obviously has his attention more than I do.

“So… Alex says you’re studying literature at Boston University.”

He lifts a finger in my direction gesturing me to wait. A vein throbs painfully in my left temple. When he finally puts his phone down he looks at me puzzled as he forgot I was here.

“Right then. Do you wanna skip the pleasantries and go to my place? My friends are having a party and I think we’d be better off having some fun.”

He does not wait for my reply as his phone chimes again he’s now back texting.

“I was hoping to get to know each other better on this date that we’re at.”

I drawl the word date long enough to have his attention again.

“Look. You’re hot. I’m in for whatever this is. I just think we’re wasting our time in this crappy dinner when we could be having fun somewhere else.”

He checks me out from head to toe and smiles approvingly. He turns back to his phone and my eyes wander in Jake’s direction again. He catches my eyes and a look of pity flashes across his face. Anger is rising inside my throat and I look away.

Ok. That’s it. God, if this is you telling me this date was a bad idea. I got your message loud and clear. The last thing I need is Jake fucking Hawkins to pity me.

“This isn’t going to work out.” I blurt to my date.

“Oh. Don’t be like that. We’re just getting to know each other. If it’s that important to you we can stay.”

I’m too riled up to even consider sitting here for another minute.

“I think it’s best if I leave. You obviously have a party that you need to get to and I have an exam early in the morning. I think we should call it a night.”

“Jesus.” He drawls. “I can’t believe I drove half an hour for this shit.”

He raises his voice for the last part and heads are turning our way. Time for me to make an exit. My hands are shaking when I plant a 5 dollar bill on the table and grab my jacket.

“This was fun. Let’s not do this again.”

“As if. If I’d known you would be this bitchy about me being 5 minutes late, I would’ve skipped this altogether. Not even worth the ride.”

I am certain that people are staring at us and I don’t want this to turn into an argument. I do not need the attention. So I nod in his direction and I force myself not to run towards the exit. I keep my eyes glued to the pavement as I stalk towards my car.

This whole night was a mistake. I know I am escalating this exchange to the point where my knees might give in. But I wanted this date to bring me something. Comfort? Some sort of win that I finally took one step forward and maybe it will be ok to take another one? I don’t know. Or maybe I just wanted to be done with it and prove to the world that I, Brie Daniels do not belong in a relationship.

I can recognize a spiraling when I see one. Especially if I’m the one going down the rabbit hole. A sob slips through my lips as I reach the handle and pull angrily at the door. I slip inside the warm interior and stare at the wheel for a minute while my phone goes crazy in my bag. I inhale and exhale through my mouth to ease the scream that is lodged inside my throat. I finally reach for it and Hannah’s face fills the screen.

“Babe, what’s wrong? You haven’t responded to my last two texts and I started to worry. Brie…”

“I’m fine.”

My voice comes raspy and I flinch to the sound of it.

“He finally showed up 20 min late and he was a dick throughout our conversation.”

“Did he say something to you? Brie, I swear I’d cut his balls off if he was nasty to you. I’m soo sooo sorry for this. I was hoping you’d finally have a nice date and maybe you’ll get out more for a while. I promise I’ll make it up to you. Please come home. We’ll make some hot chocolate and watch one of those sappy movies you love so much.”

“I’m fine Han. I think the worst part of it was seeing Jake Hawkins pitting me. Who the fuck does he think he is? He doesn’t even know me.” I say more angry than intended jabbing at the steering wheel.

“Whoa. Back it up there for a sec Brie.”

I frown at her sudden outburst.

“What does Hawkins have to do with this conversation. Brie… did I miss something?”

I sigh.

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From Anxiety, With Love

Part I

She was staring through the bus window, ignoring the miserable expression on her reflection, at the train station. With each train arrival, she kept craning her neck, hoping to see her friend’s curly, fiery hair surging from the crowd of people busy going places. She was late, and Allie was going to kill her.

She left Grace about 15 messages since she got on the bus, hoping from the bottom of her shoelaces, that either Grace’s phone battery was out or she had no signal. Either way, Grace had to be here on time.

The phone chirped in her hand, the screen lighting up at the incoming message. Grace was finally texting back. A short lived sigh of relief blew past her lips.

„Allie-cat can’t make it!”

Grace wasn’t coming. Allie shifted in her seat, a bubble of hysterical laughter caught in her throat. Heart thumping faster in her chest, she stared at the three dots on the screen, silently praying that Grace was pulling her leg when another message popped up.

„Got stuck at work. We had an impromptu visit from a client this morning, and the meeting is not over yet. Please don’t be mad at me. Please don’t get off that bus. You need this.”

Allie, shook her head in disbelief, anxiety creeping down her spine. She definitely needed to get off this bus. No way in hell, will she be trapped on this trip for a full day with a bus full of spanish-speaking strangers. She grabbed her backpack, stuffed her hoodie inside, and jumped on her feet. The phone she set between her legs to gather her things, slipped between her tights on the floor. She froze as heads turned in her direction. People starring confused, some concerned. A deep blush crept along her neck, and she slowly crouched to recover the blasted phone. By the time she stood up again, on shaky legs that is, the bus doors closed and the vehicle began to move.

„Hola amigos! Mi nombre es Irai, hoy soy su guía y juntos vamos a disfrutar de este hermoso día en nuestro viaje al Caminito del Rey.”

Their guide’s voice boomed inside the bus, announcing their departure.

Oh no, no, no! As he went along describing what their day would look like, panic flooded Allie’s chest, and she froze mid-stance. She urged her legs to move, to shout the bus to stop, but none of these intentions left her mouth. She would cause a commotion and people would stare at her, would get annoyed by her interruption.

She surely could just go ahead, and have a private conversation with her guide and all would be clarified and they would let her off at the next stop. She will figure out how to get back to the train station after that, get on the train, home, in bed, to safety.

But she did not know enough spanish to form a coherent sentence for the life of her. And because there weren’t any more available bookings for the english trip, Grace just shrugged her shoulders and booked the spanish one. Grace knew enough spanish for the both of them. But Allie did not. The only spanish words in her vocabulary were „Holla” and „Gracias”.

She only made the trip to Spain because her friend got the opportunity to work a full paid month in Malaga. And Grace asked her to come along. With a broken heart to be nursed, out of a job, she agreed half-hearted, with the promise that a scenery change would be good for her. This did not feel good.

She closed her eyes, slowly inhaling through her mouth. Surely someone on this bus knew enough english to help her clarify all this out, then she would be on her merry way with enough time on her hands to dwell on how terrified she’d been. Maybe she would even laugh it of by the time Grace return home.

The mere thought of being put in another situation where she would have to explain her inability to know the basics of „Hei, excuse me, can you help me figure this out?” raised goosebumps on her skin and made her stomach churn in despair. So she did the only logical thing she was capable off. Sat back in her chair, drew her legs up her chest, hugged her knees, closed her eyes, and prayed that this day would be over soon.

Another message from Grace lighted up the screen.

„Allie-cat … please text back. I need to know you’re ok.”

But she didn’t. Not for a while.

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Little nugget of hope

My job devoids my eyes of sunlight…

• ‎‎‎I whisper – hang in there for another bill;

My body bends and aches in parts and nooks…

• ‎‎‎‎‎‎I whisper – hang on, we’ll get better soon;

My inner child shakes violently under waves of anxiety…

• ‎‎‎‎‎I whisper – hang in there for another heartbeat;

My mind screams in broad daylight „Off yourself!”…

• I whisper – hang in there for another sunset.

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Enough to keep me going

Sometimes I think, I stopped writing, because I don’t want to write about things that hurt. I’ve been through so much physical and psychical pain in this past year, most days I needed to remind myself that breathing comes naturally and it doesn’t drain me out of energy in trying to find something real, something to grab onto, to ground myself. Most days I avoid meeting my gaze in the mirror because nothing that’s left here will help me stay. I don’t lean against the side of my mattress, because when I close my eyes, it feels like a rocking boat in the middle of the sea, waiting for me to take a final dive. I seek the stars in the darkest of nights, praying for guidance. I prayed to Gods and moons, and sometimes when I’m out of words and the silence it’s stretching inside my ribcage, and it grows deeper into my bones, I seek them silly fireflies. I tell myself, just some light, some light, it’s enough to keep me going.

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About today

I am by the stove brewing water for my chamomile tea. My stomach has been burning for two days now. Pills, tea, food don’t help. I tried sleep, but it’s been evading me again. I’ve been in and out of sleep all night long, turning and tossing, making a mess out of my bed sheets. After a while, I stopped checking the clock on my phone. What use to it anyway? As of late, my days start all the same, in and out of focus. Sadness lingering on me like a second skin. There’s this tiredness in my limbs that won’t go away. My thoughts shift, but they end up in the same place. I don’t want to be here anymore. I don’t want this life. Tears slip away over the bridge of my nose, in the hollow above my lip. Frustration makes its way up my throat and into my mouth, the taste of bile strong on my tongue.

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About loss

I’m exhausted.

My fists relax. Knuckles are covered in tiny cuts and little specks of red. Anger didn’t help. 

I drop flat on my back against the hardwood floors, legs beneath me, crossed at the ankles. Eyes closed, I feel the vein in my left temple pulsing frantically beneath the beads of sweat that are covering my skin. There’s a knot in my throat that I keep pushing down, threatening to overspill the pain that I haven’t let myself feel yet. Breathing is hard. 

– You ok?

There’s a shadow leaning over me. An unmistakable voice protrudes, uninvited, through the buzzing in my ears. The remains of the last night’s dream linger at the edge of my conscience. I’ve dreamed about him last night. I haven’t dreamed about him in forever. Returning home must’ve conjured memories of him, waiting patiently to engulf me in more self-pity and destruction. Tears prickle the back of my eyelids. The need to melt into another makes my insides twist with guilt. The need to be touched, held, and never let go again overflows and I catch a sob before I put a crack in the little self-control I have left.

I half nod hoping that the shadow will move. To my irritation the silhouette crouches next to me, taking away the only ray of sunshine that was playing across my cheekbones. The only warmth I’ve felt in months. I can feel my composure slipping away. The politeness that was hanging on a loose threat between my clenched teeth splinters and I sigh loudly, sending the particles of dust around me in a frenzy. 

Annoyed my eyes snap. Flecks of gold stare back at me underneath furrowed brows. Every thought inside my head dissipates like a sky clears up bright blue after a cloudy day. The world turns upside down and reality strucks hard between my shoulder blades, the skin beneath my shirt gets clammy and goosebumps rise against my flesh. suddenly everything comes back into focus. The music inside the gym blasts loud from the speakers making the floor shiver underneath me. The squeak of someone’s shoes running on the treadmill, the smell of sweat and the collective grasps of air from a zumba class hit me all at once. There’s this nauseating feeling that climbs inside my throat and my eyes become blurry. I take in a full gulp of air and I almost choke at the unexpected air that fills my lungs like a wave crushing angry against the shore. I lean against my forearms and I blink twice in confusion.

– You need some help?

I nod my head involuntarily and take his hand the flashes of the dream melting into the moment. Steady on my feet I look up and his smile grows deeper, revealing one perfect dimple.

– I haven’t seen you in a while.

His hand still holds mine, his thumb making small circles against my wrists. He stares at me for the longest time, patiently waiting for me to pull myself back together. The thing is… I don’t think I can do that anymore. 

– I was wondering if you wanna hang out sometime?

The question comes in unexpectedly. The same question I asked all those summers ago. 

– You wanna attend a funeral? the words slip bitter out of my mouth before I can stop them.

The flinch in his eyes makes me take a step back. Yes.. Taking steps back is good. So I take one more. I mouth half an apology and I don’t stop running until I’m home. 

The bedroom door is closed. I rest my hand against the cherry wood, right beneath the words scribbled in anger with a pair of eyebrow scissors. There’s a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth, images of a chopped blonde hair and storm brewing eyes gathering on the back of my eyelids. „Mind your business” A strangled laugh breaks out of me. She’s gone. And I don’t know how to exist without her.

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