OC Me
Page 16
Smiling at their happiness and chuckling at my own blindness, I blurted, “So is this the other girl Matt?”
Looking just slightly embarrassed he admitted, “I know, I know. It’s not quite as bad as it looks though. I’m a baby senior; I won’t be eighteen until August.” He affectionately rested his chin on the top of her head. The cause of Amber’s senioritis was now much clearer. “We wanted to keep it quiet at first because we didn’t know how to explain where we met each other,” Matt explained. “But,” he continued, “I don’t really care anymore. They can all know.”
They were an odd pairing at first glance, a studious sophomore and a varsity football player. People would’ve talked, would’ve questioned it; but to me, knowing them, it made perfect sense. Their relationship sprouted out of true friendship, out of complete honesty. How many people can say that? Certainly not me.
As our conversations tapered off and the sun started its descent toward the horizon, I took in the quiet that surrounded us. Each of us bore witness to one another’s personal journeys and after many afternoons of shared banter, encouragement, and off-topic tangents, we were strangely - but not uncomfortably - silent.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The object of education is to teach us to love what is beautiful.
~ Plato, The Republic
It was the afternoon before graduation. We were officially done. The formality of collecting our diplomas remained, but the lightness of having nothing on my “to do” list was freeing. Dad was gone on a delivery; so like usual I found myself standing in the Phelps kitchen, chopping greens for our dinner salad. James was in the backyard helping his dad with the grill, and I was excited for the evening ahead. James, Kat, Nolan and I were going to head out to a party tonight. Mike Burke, a classmate of ours, was hosting a giant bonfire for the whole senior class at his family’s farm. I’d been to the farm years earlier during apple-picking season. I anticipated the fire to be in the large clearing just south of the barn and was looking forward to one last get-together with my classmates.
Sandra stood at the sink rinsing the raspberries that were going to go in the salad. “Amy?”
“Yes?” I answered.
“I want you to know, no matter what happens, how much fun it’s been having you around.”
I wasn’t sure where she was going with the ‘no matter what happens’ part. Before I could ask, she started again.
“That came off wrong,” she said pausing. “I…I know that sometimes people don’t always change in the same direction. And I know college will change you, and it will change James. And while I hope that someday you’ll be more permanently here…” she paused again. “I’m just saying that no matter what, you will always hold a fond place in my heart.” She was looking at me now, eyes glassy and smiling.
“Sandra!” I said. She was going to make me cry. “I hope we change in the same directions too. I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about James. He’s helped me through so much.”
“Well, you have helped him too,” Sandra insisted. “I don’t think he would have ever applied for that scholarship without you pushing him. I don’t know if he would’ve even had the nerve to tell us that he wanted to go to art school. We may have mistakenly dropped him off at State, and he would’ve never pursued his real dream.”
I treasured each minute I spent with Sandra. It made the wound in my heart from my own mother’s absence a little less tender. I looked over at her, “I will miss you so much next year,” I croaked. “I hope you will be ready to continue these cooking lessons over winter break.”
“You’re on sweetie,” she said, as she walked over with the bowl of raspberries. After sprinkling them on the salad, she wrapped her arms around me and reiterated, “You’re on.”
James entered as we hugged. “Uh oh! What have I gotten myself into?” he winked. I swatted him playfully as he grabbed the salad. Dinner carried out in its normal fashion, with good conversation and soft music. As we stood to clear the table, Sandra shooed us out. “Go on kids. Get ready for your party,” she instructed. And we listened. I was standing in my underwear in the guest bath about to put on my jeans when James knocked. “One sec!” I yelled, sliding up my pants and zipping the fly. I had shed my sundress in favor of a warmer ensemble. My new bright red State hoodie stood out in vibrant contrast to my oldest, most comfortable jeans. “Okay!” I said loudly.
James cracked the door open, and held up an envelope. His face was apprehensive. “I know it’s not a big deal,” he said.
“Is that the scholarship letter?” I asked excitedly.
“I think so.” He paused. “It doesn’t matter…Right? I mean I’m going no matter what. I know I already have something secured.”
“Right,” I said evenly. “You’re going no matter what. You’ve been accepted. You know you already have some scholarship money, and your parents are supportive.”
He was nervous. His eyes weren’t staying focused on any one thing for more then a few seconds. The envelope transferred back and forth between his hands. Leaning forward, I gently wrapped my fingers around his arms just above his elbows. Tilting my head toward his chest, I waited for him to relax his body. He remained stiffened; I could feel his heart racing.
“James?”
“Hmm?”
“Relax.” I felt him loosen ever so slightly. I slipped my hand in my pocket and pulled out Lisa’s stone. “Breathe,” I instructed as I handed it to him. His muscles softened just a bit more as he studied the stone in his hand.
“I wish I could have met your aunt,” he said softly handing the stone back to me.
“Me too,” I sighed. Refocusing, I slipped my arms up around his back and squeezed him hard “Let’s do this,” I said.
I tugged his hand, beckoning him to follow me. Without saying a word, we walked out the back door and settled on a hanging wooden bench in the garden. He handed me the envelope. It was wrinkled from his tight grasp.
“You do it,” he said.
“No,” I said gently handing it back, “You do it.” Meeting my eyes he nodded and slid his finger under the seal. I was suddenly transported back to our date at the art museum in February. Back then, I was looking at a guy who loved art, but really didn’t know what he wanted to do, who couldn’t admit to his parents that he wanted to go to art school, who wasn’t even going to enter the scholarship competition. He sat before me now, changed. He knew what he wanted, and he was right; it didn’t matter what the letter said. He was going to follow his dream no matter what.
All the same, we both shrieked when the news was good - full scholarship including room and board. Opal Colored Daisies had been unanimously selected by the board as the best technical and conceptual submission for the Presidential Scholarship. As tradition would have it, the painting also would become the main graphic for all of the brochures for the visual arts department for the next year. I couldn’t have been prouder of him or prouder to be with him. As we rocked back and forth hugging, we excitedly began talking about our future.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us.
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
The mood couldn’t have been any happier as we drove to the Burke’s. I couldn’t stop grinning. My boyfriend won the scholarship competition. He won. I was on cloud nine. I knew all along that he was fantastic, but now his parents knew and the scholarship board, and most importantly - James. We passed the last few subdivisions of newer homes and turned onto the back highway. It was twisty here, and in the early hours of twilight, down-right beautiful. I would miss being so close to these hills; I would miss the thousands of stars, but I was ready for what was to come.
“The Burke’s place is just over this ridge right?” James asked.
“Over the ridge, and right on J.”
James pulled off the gravel driveway and into the front field, parking in a row with dozens of other cars. While not everyone atte
nded, those that came were treated to a bonfire that rivaled Homecoming’s. The Burkes must have collected pallets for years to create such a fireball. Hay bales were set up in rows plenty far back from the blaze, and my classmates mingled with one another beneath the rising moon. A huge vat of kettle corn was being attended to by Mr. Burke; and one of Mike’s younger siblings trailed through the crowd, handing out bags of the sticky sweet popcorn.
Stars sprinkled across the sky and intermingled with the sparks from the bonfire. Kat, Nolan, and about a dozen other band kids arrived simultaneously. Hugs and cheery greetings were given all around. When I told Kat the news of James’ scholarship, she shrieked and hugged us both.
After making the rounds, I settled back onto a hay bale and became mesmerized by the flames before us. We sat arms intertwined, soaking up the ambiance of our last high school party.
“Walk with me,” James whispered in my ear.
I nodded and rose from our hay bale, brushing off my jeans. He slid his arm around my back. With the sun far gone, I shook when we walked away from the fire.
“You’re so shivery,” He teased.
“It’s cold!” I complained.
“Well, I won’t keep you away from the fire too long.” His words were soft, and he dropped his arm from around my back and intertwined his fingers in mine. We stopped behind the barn. The perfect rows of baby plants danced gently in the breeze, shimmering in the moonlight. We could hear our classmates singing along with the acoustic guitar someone brought. Their voices echoed off the back tree line of the field acres away.
“It’s been quite an adventure huh?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I paused. “The scholarships? Or just everything?”
“I was leaning more towards the everything side of things.” His smile relaxed, and his face grew serious, “I love you Ames.” His eyes searched mine, waiting for my reaction.
My heart leaped in my chest. “I love you too,” I replied without any hesitation.
He brushed his hair back away from his eyes, a shy smile spreading across his face. “You’ve made me…so happy. You’ve pushed me to follow my dream,” he shrugged.
“Any true friend would push you to follow your dreams.” I hadn’t done anything extraordinary there.
He paused and slowly said, “I know this has been a terribly hard year for you. It would have been hard enough to lose your aunt, but to then deal with the OCD would have crushed some people.” He was treading gently. I didn’t really want to talk about my OCD tonight.
“James,” I started.
“Look,” he said interrupting, “I know…this is a party. You haven’t seen the positives to your OCD the way I have.”
“No.” I interrupted. “I think I’m starting to. I mean…at the very least, it inspired a painting that is paying for your tuition,” I said gently kidding him. And then more seriously added, “It’s a beautiful painting James. I’ve been trying to think of my anxiety through your brush strokes, trying to see the beauty that is there. And I know there are positives, you’ve made me see that.”
Sliding his hand in his pocket, he pulled out something small and silvery. It glinted in the moonlight. As my eyes focused, I could see it was a necklace. Threaded on the chain was a tiny silver-stemmed daisy. The petals were tiny pieces of opal. “Well I’m glad you’re finally seeing what I’ve seen all along. But should you ever forget, or just need a reminder…” he nodded toward the necklace, “I hope that this can bring you right back here.”
He slipped the necklace over my head and smoothed my hair; then he leaned in for a kiss. The events of the past semester flashed before me. The loss, the fear, the uncertainty, the self-discovery. It hadn’t been easy, and it wasn’t what I would’ve chosen for myself. But it brought me here to this moment, to this point in time where I know what’s before me and what I want to do with it. To this moment where I stand with someone at my side who I know loves me for who I actually am, and I don’t think there’s anything more valuable than that. Nodding and leaning up to return his kiss I said, “This is exactly where I want to be.”
Authors Note:
Dear Reader,
Like Amy, I struggled with the onset and diagnosis of OCD when I was a young adult. At the time I could not find the novel I needed to read; all I could find were self-help books. I began to write Amy’s story in 2006. While some of Amy’s feelings are based on my own experiences, the story is uniquely hers and is in no way my story. As you learned in this book, anxiety disorders are fairly common. While this book is meant to shed light on anxiety and OCD, it is a work of fiction and not suggestive of any particular treatment. If you or someone you care about is struggling with anxiety or OCD, please reach out to a trusted adult for help. There are many resources available within your community.
A couple of resources for further reading are:
ocfoundation.org
Adaa.org
Acknowledgments:
This book has been a long time coming, and I want to thank my family for not getting too sick of my “book talk;” I love you all. A special thank you to my beta readers - your insights were invaluable. To Sarah Wilkins, your tireless proofing and editing are sincerely appreciated. (And I promise I will buy you a new comma key if my book has worn yours out.)
About the Author:
Kristin lives in Central Wisconsin where she enjoys cycling, hiking, snowshoeing and family. When she’s not reading or writing, she can be found photographing weddings with her husband or spending time with her children. Kristin has a particular affinity for young adult fiction and loves the ability it has to allow her to “walk in someone else’s shoes.” OC Me is her debut novel, but more are in the works. Please visit KristinAlbright.com for more information. If you’re on Facebook give Author Kristin Albright a “like” for news on upcoming projects, giveaways, and more!
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Authors Note:
Acknowledgments:
About the Author: