by Lang Leav
He stood up and came around my side of the table.
“I’m sick of fighting about this,” I continued. “I didn’t do anything wrong, so stop crucifying me.”
He sighed. “You can’t blame me for being worried, not when my girlfriend starts hanging around some guy. But I’m sick of fighting too. Let’s just drop it.”
He took my bag gently from my hands and pulled my books out again, spreading them across the table. I felt a wave of tenderness as I watched him. I knew how much he cared about me, and I was grateful to have him in my life. I just wished I could return his feelings in equal measure. Everything would be a lot simpler that way.
“Besides,” he said with a grin, “our exams are next week, and given how terrible your math is, I’m your only hope.”
The next day Lucy and I caught a bus out to Alexandria to visit Candela. It was hard to believe I hadn’t seen her since the housewarming party—the last month had gone by in a flash.
The first thing I noticed when Candela opened the door was her disheveled appearance. Her hair was matted, and her skin looked like it was covered in a slick, oily film. The circles under her eyes were so dark they looked almost like bruises. She was dressed in an old tie-dyed T-shirt with a large red wine stain and ripped denim shorts. Candela had always been slim, but now she looked emaciated, like she hadn’t eaten in days. “It’s past four already?” she said peering out at us, as though the sunlight was hurting her eyes. Then she grinned widely. “So good to see you both.” She drew me into a weak embrace. “It’s been way too long.”
“What’s with all the trash?” I asked. The porch, which had been spotless on our last visit, was now in complete disarray. Bags of rubbish, pizza boxes piled up by the door. Flies buzzed around the debris, and a sour, rancid smell hung in the warm, still air.
“Oh yeah,” said Candela, looking around the porch. “Ally had some kind of mental breakdown, so she’s moved back in with her parents, and Ramona and I—well,” she gave us a hopeless smile, “we’ve been pretty shitty at keeping the place in order.” She opened the door to let us through, and we followed her into the hallway. When we got to the lounge room, Lucy and I exchanged a look. It was a complete mess. Dirty plates, cigarette butts, and empty beer bottles were strewn all across the coffee table. Used tissues, food wrappers, and half-eaten bits of fruit littered the three-seater sofa. Even the bright blue beanbag next to it was covered with crumbs and a sad-looking Rubik’s Cube with half its colored stickers peeled off.
“Sorry about the mess,” she said nonchalantly. “I’ve been too busy to tidy up.” She made a half-hearted attempt to clear the table but gave up midway. Instead, she pushed the rubbish from the sofa onto the floor and plonked herself down, inviting us to do the same. “So how are you both?” she asked, as we sat on either side of her. “How’s school?”
“It’s okay,” said Lucy. “A bit of a drag—you know.”
“Not the same without you,” I told her honestly.
“Yeah,” said Lucy. “All the teachers ever talk about now are the exams. They’re really laying on the pressure.”
“They are,” I said. “They keep saying that if we screw this up, that’s it. It’s all over—” I stopped and looked at Candela. She had a glazed look on her face, and I couldn’t tell if she was even listening.
“Do you guys want a drink?” she asked, distracted.
“Sure,” I said. Candela got up and made her way to the kitchen.
“Do you think she’s okay?” I whispered to Lucy. She turned to look at me, a worried expression on her face. “I don’t know,” she mouthed, with a shrug.
We heard the fridge door slam shut as Candela made her way back to us, with a couple of Diet Cokes. She passed them over to us, before sitting back down again.
“So what’s new with you, Candela?” asked Lucy, as she flicked back the tab.
“Well,” said Candela, “I’ve started seeing this guy.”
“You have?” I asked.
“Yeah, his name is Dirk. I think you met him at the housewarming.”
“The biker guy with tats all around his neck? Seriously, Candela?”
“Why, what’s the problem?”
“Isn’t he, like, forty or something?”
“Thirty-five.”
“So he’s basically twice your age?”
“And your point is?” She shot me a defiant look.
“He kind of gave me the creeps, Candela,” I said quietly.
She glared at me. “Well, maybe you’re just too sensitive.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I snapped.
“Hey, we should go out for dinner next week,” Lucy cut in quickly. It was clear she was trying to change the subject before it escalated into an argument. “Just the three of us. We haven’t done that in ages.”
“Okay,” I said.
“Sure,” said Candela, with a noncommittal shrug of her shoulders.
Something in her tone made my anger flare up again. “Don’t come out with us if you don’t want to, Candela. There isn’t a bloody gun to your head.”
“Jeez, Audrey, calm the hell down. What’s your problem?”
“You’ve been so distant since you moved out. I don’t hear a thing from you. You don’t answer my calls or text back.”
She stood up, glaring down at me. “It’s always about you, isn’t it, Audrey? Why don’t you just get over yourself for a second and see that people have lives of their own. The world doesn’t revolve around you.”
“Oh, shut up. I’m the one having to pander to you. I’m sick of being the one doing all the chasing. I’m not asking you to make me a priority—I know you’ve got a lot going on. But at least meet me halfway.”
She opened her mouth to speak but stopped. Her expression told me something I said had sunken in. “Look,” she sighed, sitting back down. “I know I’ve been distant. I’m just messed up about Ana—even if I don’t always show it . . . I’ve been trying to get away from anything that reminds me of her.” She clasped my hand in hers and then reached for Lucy’s. “The two of you—you’re like sisters to me. I love you both; that will never change. But I need to forget for a while—to be away from Three Oaks, from Barrett, and that god-awful bottle-green uniform.” Her eyes flickered over my school dress. “I just need everything from that part of my life to disappear for a bit.”
Her words brought on a heavy feeling in my chest. Until now, I was unable to grasp the depth of Candela’s suffering. I wanted desperately to be there for my friend, but not if my presence was causing her further pain.
“If you need your space, Candela, we’ll respect that,” said Lucy quietly. “But at least come to graduation. Please? It would be so weird not having you there.”
I winced at the desperation in Lucy’s tone, but I felt the same. Everything was dull without Candela. Nothing felt as special.
“Of course I’ll be there,” she said with a tight smile. There was a troubled look in her eyes. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Eight
It was the day of our exams, and I could barely stomach anything as I sat down at breakfast.
“Nervous?” asked Dad, sliding a pancake onto his plate with a fork.
“Yeah.”
“So what’s first on the agenda?”
“English in the morning, and then we have history after lunch.”
“Well, at least you’re starting out with the two subjects you’re good at,” said Mum.
“I suppose.” I frowned as a fresh wave of anxiety gripped my stomach.
“So there is really nothing to be nervous about, is there?”
I stiffened. There was something in her tone that was irking me. I think Dad must have noticed because he shot her a warning look.
“Edwina,” he said, “I’m sure Audrey will knock it out of the park, espe
cially with English. But you know as well as I do that examinations are scary as hell, even at the best of times.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I gave him an appreciative smile.
“Aren’t you going to eat anything?” Mum asked.
A car horn sounded outside.
“Duck’s here. I’ve got to go.” I grabbed my school bag and slung it over my shoulder.
“Good luck, Audrey,” my dad called after me.
The atmosphere was unusually subdued as the teachers lined us up and led us into the hall. I walked past the desks and chairs that stood in neat, evenly spaced rows, my heart pounding in my chest. I took my seat and glanced over at Lucy, who was sitting near the front. She smiled and waved at me, then mouthed, “Good luck.” To my right, Duck, with a pen in his hand, was staring intently at the clock that hung on the far end of the hall.
Mr. Sadowski stood up and took us through the rules as my history teacher, Mrs. Douglas, placed a sheet of paper facedown on my desk. As I stared at the blank white sheet, I felt a wave of panic. Desperately, I flicked the rubber band around my wrist, but it was akin to throwing buckets of water at a raging inferno. The walls around me began to shimmer and shrink. I was hyperventilating, hunched over my desk. Duck was at my side in a flash, and I felt his hands grip my shoulders. His voice was faint and recessive, like a signal dropping in and out. “Audrey . . . Audrey, what’s wrong?”
I stood up blindly, my chair scraping loudly against the parquetry floor. I could sense a hundred pairs of eyes on me, and I couldn’t stand to be looked at—not for another second.
Somehow I made it outside and stood with my hands gripping the metal railing, desperately sucking at the air. Someone had their palm pressed against my back and a voice—I think it belonged to Mrs. Douglas—was saying over and over, “It’s okay, darling; it’s okay; it’s okay.”
My mother came to collect me from the school office an hour later. She had a quiet talk with the principal in the hallway while I sat in a room with the school nurse, straining to catch bits of their conversation. I’d been in such a panic earlier I didn’t realize I was digging my fingernails into my wrists. That was something I resorted to when the rubber band wasn’t working, but this time I had actually drawn blood. When Mum came into the room a few minutes later, her eyes went straight to the white bandage that wound its way around my left wrist.
We didn’t say much to each other on the short drive home. I was still shaky when she led me up the stairs to my bedroom and tucked me into bed fully clothed. She left the room and came back with a cup of chamomile tea. I took it from her gratefully and sipped the warm liquid, letting it flow through my body, allowing it to bring me back down to earth. That was the funny thing about anxiety; you weren’t entirely sure if you were real or if anything around you was, either.
Mum sat on the bed and stroked my head gently. “Audrey,” she seemed to be choosing her words carefully, “I think it might be a good idea for you to take some time off.”
I blinked at her, confused. “Time off?” I echoed dumbly.
“Yes.”
“You mean because I’m an embarrassment to you,” I said, tears welling up in my eyes. “I’m right at the finish line, Mum. I can’t just quit now.”
“Audrey,” her voice was strained, “I know things between us haven’t been that great lately. But you’re still my little girl, and I’m sorry—I didn’t realize it was this bad.”
“What am I supposed to do?” I said, suddenly angry. “You keep telling me all the ways I am going to screw up, so I hope you’re happy now.”
“Please, Audrey,” she said in a small voice, “I’m really trying here.”
Dad came home a few hours later, and I heard him talking quietly to Mum downstairs. Their voices were barely audible as I struggled to make out their words. After a while, I heard footsteps on the stairs and then a knock. “Audrey,” my dad called, “can I come in?”
“Sure,” I answered weakly.
Dad walked into the room as I sat up in bed. He sat down next to me and smiled. It was such a sad smile that it brought me to the verge of tears again. “For once your mother and I agree on something,” he said. I could tell he was trying to keep his tone light.
“You don’t think I should finish my exams either?” I asked.
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “How do you feel about it, sweetie?”
“I’m scared, Dad. It was so hard today. I could feel everyone staring at me. I feel like I’m a freak show, and everyone is laughing at me and—” I broke down.
“Audrey,” he put his arms around me, and I sobbed quietly against his shoulder.
“It’s okay, sweetie. You don’t have to do anything. You can take your exams again when you’re feeling up to it.”
“I feel like a failure.”
“Hey, you’re not a failure. This is just a minor setback; that’s all. It’s not the end of the world.”
“It sure feels that way.”
“I know, baby. But I don’t want you to worry about it right now.”
“I’ll never hear the end of it from Mum.”
“Your mother only wants what’s best for you, Audrey. Even if she has a funny way of showing it sometimes.”
“I don’t know what to do next,” I said. “I just don’t.” I started to cry again.
“You don’t have to do anything. Your mother and I will take care of you. You don’t have to worry about a thing. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Everything will be okay, Audrey. Life has a way of working itself out. You’ll see.”
Nine
“I thought I was getting better,” I said. I was sitting back in Ida’s chair as she sat at her desk, by the open window. She took a long drag of her cigarette, before turning her head to blow the smoke outside.
“Anxiety is a tricky thing, honey. It’s kind of like the weather, you know? You can have a whole lot of blue skies, then all of a sudden, it goes El fucking Niño on you.” She stubbed her cigarette out and picked up her pen, clicking and unclicking it again. She looked up at me. “How are you coping, sweetheart?” Since my panic attack in the school hall last week, it had become a standard question. Not just with her but everyone else as well.
“Fine, I guess.” I gave her my standard reply.
“How do you feel about taking time off school?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Like a screwup.”
She flashed me an encouraging smile. “Well, I’ve got good news for you. You’re not a screwup. It’s about running your own race, honey. Remember that.”
“Okay,” I said numbly. My fingers traced the outline of my rubber band. I looked up at Ida. “Do you think I need to be on medication? My friend Candela—her mother has anxiety. She’s on Xanax. Apparently, it helps.”
Ida let out a breath. “I can’t prescribe medication, Audrey, but I can write a note for you to take to your doctor.” She frowned. “But I don’t think it’s the right thing for you at this stage.”
“I feel like I need something extra when the rubber band isn’t working. You know, when it becomes too much and I start to spin out.”
She pulled open her drawer and drew out a notepad. With a click of her pen, she wrote something down, before tearing the paper and handing it to me. “Take this to your doctor; he’ll know what to do.”
“Thanks,” I said, tucking the note into the pocket of my jeans.
“Personally, I think you can manage without the medication. I would try to hold off if I were you. But some people find it’s helpful to have that safety net.”
I nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
After I left Ida’s office, I walked to the park at the end of the street. I sat at a bench, by the duck pond, and spaced out for a while. Then, taking my phone from my purse, I called Candela. For months I had been carrying this awful secret about
Ana, and I could feel it ticking away inside of me like a time bomb. I had to tell someone. I knew Candela would probably never speak to me again, but that was something I would have to live with. My heart began pounding as I held the phone to my ear. It went straight to her voicemail. Getting up, I walked over to the nearest bus stop and caught the first bus to Alexandria.
As I walked up the steps leading to Candela’s porch, I was hit with the nauseating smell of rubbish. The pile that was there on my last visit was now twice as high. Doing my best to sidestep it, I rang the bell. There was no answer, so I rang it again. On my third try, the door opened a crack, and Ramona’s face peered out from behind it. Her eyes lit up when she saw it was me. “Audrey!” she exclaimed, throwing the door open and grabbing my hand. “Come in! Candela’s inside.”
I wasn’t prepared for the scene that greeted me when we got to the end of the hallway. At the kitchen table sat Candela, her back against a cane wicker chair and her legs wrapped around Dirk. He was holding a small silver spoon in one hand and a lighter in the other as he leaned over the table, frowning with concentration. They both looked up as we came into the room. Candela stood up suddenly, knocking Dirk so he lurched forward, sending a sprinkle of brown sugary powder across the table.
“What the fuck, Candela,” he said, infuriated.
I opened my mouth to speak but couldn’t think of a single thing to say. I turned to leave and heard her calling me from down the hall.
“Audrey, wait.”
I was near the front door when I heard Ramona say, “Jesus, what the hell is her problem?”
I grabbed at the doorknob roughly and felt a sharp stab of pain against my palm. When I was outside, I saw a trickle of blood and realized I must have cut my hand on the sharp edge of the lock. Candela followed behind me, grabbing the back of my wrist. I spun around to face her. “I was going to tell you,” she said.
“Tell me what? That you’re shooting up now? What the hell are you doing?”
“Why are you so angry?” She looked genuinely surprised. “It’s my fucking life. I’m just having some fun.”