One Carefree Day

by Whitney Amazeen

  My mom deflates, though only by a millimeter. “You need to get on meds, Willow.”

  “No!” I breathe rapidly again, fear threatening to suffocate me. “I can’t even take painkillers, Mom. I refuse.”

  This sets her off again. “This fear of yours doesn’t make any sense! In fact, it’s downright ridiculous. Taking medicine isn’t going to kill you.”

  But I shake my head, over and over. Ever since having an allergic reaction to a medication as a child, I’ve never touched it again. I can’t. “I won’t,” I say.

  My mom stares at me for a long moment. “Then you need to find somewhere else to live, because I’m done.”

  My head spins. I gape at her, unable to make sense of her words. She knows I couldn’t bear to live on my own, that I’m terrified doing so would cause me to become a slave to my compulsive thoughts. And a roommate would be done with me the first day. Not to mention, my part-time job walking dogs in our neighborhood isn’t going to cover paying rent somewhere, on top of my cosmetology expenses. She’s left me no choice, and she knows it. “But you’re my mom,” I say, my voice cracking. “You can’t be done.”

  She covers her face with her hand. “It’s because I’m your mom,” she says, “that I care enough to help you. You have three months to get your rituals under control, enough that you can go at least a day without performing one. Otherwise, you will get on meds, or you will find a place to live and move out.”

  As if she can’t bear to look at me, she removes her hand from her face only after she turns around. Before I can say another word, she’s out the door.

  Three

  I stare at my dusty-blue colored bedroom walls for ten minutes after my mom and Gus leave. Blue is supposed to be a calming color, which is part of the reason every shade of it is my favorite. But I feel anything but calm right now.

  The tears won’t stop spilling down my face. I’m not normally a crier, but my mom’s ultimatum hasn’t left me with a choice. I’m even more trapped than I was before. My phobia of consuming any type of medication isn’t one I’m ready to face. I don’t know if I ever will be ready, in all honesty.

  I walk out the front door, not even sure where I plan on going. I’m not ready to call Ash and tell her what just happened. I need to get ahold of myself first. There isn’t a bone in my body that doubts my mom is serious. Everything I’ve put her through for the last three years has been leading up to this moment. It was only a matter of time before she got sick of me. Regardless, it hurts to know I was right.

  I sit down on the front porch steps and cover my face with my hands. It feels good to ugly-cry when I know no one can see me.

  “Tired of reading already?” a teasing voice calls from outside the guest house.

  Oh, no. No, no, no. The last thing I need right now is Theo’s antagonism. But sure enough, he makes his way over anyway, his graceful walk and glinting blue eyes making my stomach flip.

  “Go away,” I croak.

  Theo sits down right next to me, resting his elbows on his knees. Again, I’m struck by that intoxicating scent of his, even though we’re outside. I bury my face back into my hands, hoping he’ll somehow mistake my sadness for exhaustion. Or maybe he’ll think it’s just sweat. It’s warm enough outside for it to be a plausible idea.

  “Are you crying?” he asks me, sounding genuinely shocked.

  “Just leave me alone.”

  He scoots a bit closer. “Not while you’re upset.” There’s a softness in his voice now, one I’ve never heard from him before. It’s enough to make me peek up at him. His brows are furrowed in concern, his dark hair falling a bit into his eyes. “What’s wrong, love?”

  I sniffle. “Nothing. I’m fine. Go torment someone else.” My voice is muffled in my hands.

  He chuckles softly. “You can’t possibly think I’d torment you right now.” Ever so lightly, he brushes a strand of tear-dampened hair away from the side of my face. “Now tell me what happened, Willow.” His voice is firm.

  I glance at him again. That’s the first time he’s called me by my name. It startles me enough when he says it that I drop my hands and face him. “My mom is kicking me out in three months.” I wipe my eyes.

  His frown deepens. “Why?”

  I swallow back another sob. “What you saw in the classroom today ... you were right.” At the moment, I no longer care what Theo thinks of me. Seeing me crying on my porch like a lunatic has probably already permanently altered his perception of me anyway, so what does it matter if he knows the truth at this point? “I would have lost it if Ash had gotten in trouble. I have really bad OCD and my mom...she can’t stand my rituals. Living with a daughter like me has finally become too much.” My throat tightens, and to my annoyance, more tears well up. They spill over when I blink at him.

  “That can’t possibly be true,” he says.

  “It is. Unless I go on medication, I have to find somewhere else to live.” I expect him to question why I won’t take the meds, or to call me ridiculous for making a big deal out of something there’s a clear solution to.

  Theo shakes his head at that. “Why is medication the only way?”

  I frown. “What do you mean?”

  Theo turns his palms up. “Haven’t either of you heard of ERP?”

  “No.” I bring myself into a straighter sitting position. “What’s that?”

  “Exposure and Response Prevention. It’s a type of cognitive behavioral therapy,” he states. “It’s highly effective in treating OCD.”

  I stare at him. “How do you even know that?”

  “Why?” He arches a brow. “Has my bounty of knowledge actually impressed you?”

  I scoff. “No.”

  He laughs. “Of course not. But if you must know, little Willow, I used to assist my father at his practice. He’s a psychologist. I’d take notes for him, aid in group therapy sessions and the such, while I attended university to earn a degree in the same field.”

  My mouth falls open a little, but I close it, trying hard not to show that now I am pretty impressed. “So, if you know so much about psychology, why are you in cosmetology school?”

  “Because I want to be a hairstylist now,” he says.

  “You do? Really?” I can’t help but find that surprising for some reason. I take in Theo’s appearance. The way his arm muscles bulge from beneath his shirt, despite his tall, lean frame. His dark hair, the perfect length, falling from its combed style into his unnerving blue eyes. His skin is smooth and pale.

  With a jolt I realize he’s watching me check him out. His eyes are heavy with something that makes the pit of my stomach burn. “Is it so hard to believe?” he murmurs. I stare at my feet, remembering my indignance when he’d wrongly stereotyped me, insinuating that someone he found attractive couldn’t possibly enjoy something as intellectual as reading. “Besides,” he continues, “you should see what I pay my barber, or the money my mum used to spend on her hair extensions. Not to mention, I know how to give a mean fade.”

  I try to picture it now, Theo in an apron with a pair of clippers in his hand, spinning a swivel chair around to trim the edges of his client’s hairline. I can’t help it; I smile. “You’re right,” I say. “I guess I can kinda see it.”

  “No need to be modest.” Theo waves at me dismissively. “I’m going to be amazing. That is, if I can pass the bloody test at the end of all this. Right?” When he laughs, it’s the first time I’ve ever heard anything but the highest quality of confidence come out of him.

  I frown. “The test? It will be easy. I’ve been studying for it since high school. It mainly consists of questions regarding sanitation, electrical safety, and bacteriology. There’s actually hardly anything about hair on the written test.”

  He watches my mouth as I speak. When he looks at me, I can’t tell if he wants to laugh or not. “Is that so?”

  “Yes,” I confirm. “That’s so.”

  “Well, then.” Theo stands up, brushing off his pants. “It appears I have a
proposition for you, weeping Willow.”

  “You did not just call me that,” I say. “I’m not even crying anymore.”

  He smiles brilliantly. “Thanks to me distracting you from your problem at hand. Which brings me back to my proposition.”

  Though I hate to admit it, he’s right. He did distract me. I fold my arms across my chest. “What is it?”

  His smile grows. “You help me study for state board, which without your help will surely be the death of me.” He pauses thoughtfully. “I’m much more of a hands-on kind of guy.”

  “Imagine that,” I mutter. “Go on.”

  “And in return, I’ll teach you everything I know about ERP, free of charge.”

  I straighten my back completely. “Do you think it would get rid of my compulsions? Enough to prove to my mom I’m cured? She wants me to go an entire day without performing any rituals.”

  “Your compulsions will likely never go away.” Theo crosses his arms. “But if you give it your best efforts, anything is possible. You could make that your incentive. An entire carefree day all to yourself, little Willow.”

  I snort. “Yeah, right. You think that’s actually possible for someone as messed up as me?”

  “You’re not messed up,” he states. “Believe me.” The way he meets my eyes when he says it makes me think he’s telling the truth. I wonder what kind of clients his dad treats, and what Theo has seen to make him believe I’m not too hopeless to help.

  Either way, if this ERP thing he’s talking about can keep me from performing rituals, helping him pass the test will be a cake walk. I really have nothing to lose.

  Except everything.

  If his technique doesn’t work, I’ll be homeless before the semester ends. Either that, or on meds. Both of which are equally terrifying to me. I sigh. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

  He smirks, back to his annoying self, and reaches a hand down to help me up, which I choose to ignore. “Brilliant. Now let’s grab a bite somewhere.”

  I bristle. “What?” I have to admit, food does sound good right now. But I don’t necessarily want to eat with Theo, even if he did just agree to help me with the biggest problem I’ve ever had.

  He throws his arm around my shoulders. “Come on, little Willow. You can read a book any old day. But right now, you need comfort food. Know any good places?”

  I shrug his arm off my shoulders plainly. “There’s always In-N-Out,” I suggest.

  “In-N-Out?” He laughs. “Sounds vulgar.”

  I roll my eyes. “Don’t get your hopes up.”

  Four

  Ash texts me in the morning: Running late. Not coming over this morning. Just going straight to school.

  On my way to the kitchen, I face the mirror in the hallway. Whenever I see my reflection, I always have to smile at it before I look away. For some reason, the idea of parting with my reflection wearing any expression other than a smile leaves me unsettled. I think it’s because I’m not sure if it’s the last time I’ll ever see myself again. I could cease to exist at any moment, so if this is the last time I’ll see my face, I at least want to look happy.

  Even if I’m not.

  When I enter the kitchen, the smell of French toast surrounds me, making my stomach growl. With my lips slightly parted, I watch my mom flip a cinnamon-coated slice of bread onto a plate, spatula in hand.

  “Mom?” I walk closer, puzzled as I take in her work clothes. Why is she still awake? She hardly ever has time to make breakfast in the morning—which is technically dinnertime for her—and neither do I. It’s the reason we have such an embarrassingly plentiful selection of cereal in the cupboard.

  “Hi honey,” she says, sounding a little like a zombie. After skipping out on sleep to hang out with Gus yesterday, she probably had a brutal shift at work last night. I’m surprised she didn’t go straight to bed when she got home this morning. As soon as the last piece of bread is on the plate, she holds it out to me like an offering.

  “What’s this for?” I ask.

  She sighs, shutting her eyes and wrinkling her nose a bit. “I’m sorry about yesterday.”

  I inhale deeply. Has she changed her mind? Maybe there’s a chance she was just overreacting. Maybe she doesn’t want me to move out, or to medicate me anymore. If that’s the case, I won’t need Theo’s help after all, and I can go back to barely tolerating him instead of playing civil. “You are?”

  “Yes,” she says. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. I still meant everything I said, but I could have been a tad nicer if I had taken a deep breath or two first.”

  My heart sinks along with my appetite, but I take the plate anyway. “Oh.”

  Her lips turn downward. “I know you’ll make the right decision, Willow. Starting medication is the right thing to do. If you just use these three months to mentally prepare yourself—”

  “Mom, stop. I’m not getting on meds.” I set the plate down on the table. “I’m going to handle this my own way.”

  Her lips thin into a straight line. “I’m sorry you can’t see reason when it comes to this, Willow.” Rubbing her forehead, she starts to head toward her bedroom. “No matter what you end up deciding, I love you.”

  I don’t reply. I just take a seat and poke at my French toast with a fork.

  “Don’t let it get cold,” she adds before disappearing down the hall, and the sound of her door shutting behind her follows.

  I watch the steam rise and evaporate above the breakfast she made. She must feel at least a little guilty, to go out of her way to do this. But not guilty enough to change her mind.

  With some effort, I cut myself a piece of toast with the edge of my fork and take a bite. It tastes like cardboard in my mouth.

  “Get in,” I say, patting the seat next to me. “Or I’m leaving without you.”

  Theo takes his time opening the car door and buckling himself in. He throws his navy blue backpack on the seat behind me. “So impatient, little Willow.”

  “You have no idea.” I rev the engine.

  “Tell me,” he says, that annoying amusement already lighting up his expression. “Are you this pleasant with everyone? Or do you save this particular mood of yours for me alone?”

  “You’re awfully brazen for someone who relies on me to get to school.”

  He reclines his seat, propping his feet up on the dashboard. “You know very well that taking me to school is the only thing you look forward to when you wake up in the morning.”

  “It is not.” I grip the steering wheel tight enough to pinch my fingers. “Not even close.”

  “You probably write all about it in your diary,” he adds, displaying a wide grin.

  I roll my eyes. “If I had a diary, which I don’t, the only thing I’d write is how much I’d like to throw you out on the street while going top speed.”

  He laughs. “You have quite the imagination, love. It’s probably from all that reading.”

  I sigh. “Are you going to talk the entire way?”

  Theo waggles his eyebrows at me. “If you insist.” He’s wearing blue scrubs today, and so am I, but he has a denim jacket over his. He’s used to London weather. But I don’t bother telling him how warm it’s going to be today here in Carmichael, California. He’ll find out soon enough.

  “In that case...” I bite my bottom lip. The conversation with my mom this morning has me on edge. Although I didn’t expect it, part of me thought she really might change her mind about everything she said. It hurts to know she hasn’t, even after sleeping on it for the night. Knowing I only have three months to eliminate my rituals enough to please her is more than I can bear. “Perhaps you could give me my first lesson on ERP therapy?” I glance at him, trying to make my expression pleasant. His dark blue scrubs make his eyes stand out, impossibly brighter than they already were against his pale skin.

  Theo laughs. “We don’t have enough time now. And I doubt you’d want to do something like that moments before walking into a classroom. You’
d likely become all riled up from facing your compulsions. It isn’t going to be easy.”

  I shrug. “I know that.” It’s a lie. I know absolutely nothing about ERP, but he’s probably right about now being a bad time. Still, I can’t help my urgency to get started. If I’m going to even have a chance of curing myself so I don’t have to move out, I want that chance to be a good one. “I just meant,” I continue, “maybe you could tell me what the process is like. What’s the first step going to be?”

  “You’ll have to tell me all about yourself first, love.” Theo says. He glances at me, still in his relaxed position. “Something I’m sure you’re highly comfortable with and won’t have any trouble doing at all.”

  I swat his arm without taking my eyes off the road, trying not to wince when I hit his hard muscle. “Shut up.”

  He laughs. “I’m serious, little Willow. You’ll have to open up for this to work.” His voice deepens. “I know it won’t be easy. But you’re going to have to trust me if you want me to show you the techniques I know. If you can’t do that, but still want to learn, I highly recommend seeing an actual therapist. Keep in mind that I’m not a true professional, just an ex-assistant.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

  Theo smirks. “My dad was successful with almost all his clients. And I know what he did. Take it or leave it, little Willow. It’s no matter to me.”

  “Don’t forget,” I say through gritted teeth. “You need me too if you want to pass state board. I hear the questions are getting harder each year.” That’s a lie, too. The questions are almost exactly the same every year, as far as I know. But if Theo finds out I need him more than he needs me, I’m worried he won’t help me.

  Theo presses his lips together. “Right. Well, that’s the first step. Opening up.”

  I inhale slowly. He’s right—opening up about my OCD isn’t something that’s easy for me. Only Ash and my mom are aware of the extent of it, and I constantly worry that if anyone else learns what goes on in my head, they’ll never let me live it down.