“Is there anything,” Theo says quietly, all traces of teasing suspended, “you can think of that would make that easier for you to do?”
My eyes flicker toward him and then back to the road. “You could tell me some things about yourself first,” I suggest. “You know, considering I hardly know anything about you.”
He smiles, but the seriousness in his eyes lingers. “What do you want to know?”
The question that’s been weighing on me the longest comes out before I have a chance to think it through. “Did you ... did you have any idea your mom was going to kill herself before it happened?”
He’s silent for a moment, and I worry I’ve gone too far. I’m about to mentally berate myself for being so careless, for asking something so personal, when he answers me.
“My dad was physically, emotionally and mentally abusive,” Theo tells me plainly. “So, I suppose I probably should have suspected it.”
I can’t help it; I glance over at him. His eyes meet mine, unwavering. That hadn’t been something I was expecting at all. But then again, why does anyone make the choice to end their own life? I’m certainly no expert.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, and the silence stretches on, so I voice the only other thing that comes into my mind. “And he’s a psychologist?”
Theo smiles bitterly. “You’d be amazed how convincing a face can be when it’s worn for a stranger. And often, the people who give the most excellent advice fail to take it themselves.”
Somehow, I can believe that.
“Is there anything else you want to know?” Theo asks.
I consider for a moment. “What’s your middle name?”
He laughs, shaking his head a little. “Oh, now you’ve gone too far.”
I laugh. “Names are important. They can tell you a lot about a person.” I raise my eyebrows at him. “If you won’t tell me, then I’ll assume it’s something terrible.”
“Relax, little Willow. I’ll tell you,” he says. “It’s William.”
“Theodore William Tate,” I say aloud, testing the way it sounds.
When Theo speaks, his voice sounds husky. “Have the depths of my secrets been uncovered with that revelation, love?”
I roll my eyes. “It’s a gentlemanly name. It means you’re probably not as much of an ass as you let on.”
He smirks. “I don’t think gentlemanly is a word.” Theo places a hand on his chest. “And I’m wounded by that backhanded compliment. Now you have to tell me your middle name so I can have my turn psychoanalyzing you.”
“Of course gentlemanly is a word. And my middle name is Daphne.”
“Daphne?” His eyebrows fly up. “That’s not at all what I was expecting. But Willow Daphne Bates suits you somehow.”
“Thanks,” I say. Warmth floods my cheeks. The exit for American River College comes up, the buildings already visible from the highway.
Theo raises an eyebrow at me. “If you’re really set on starting ERP today—”
“I am.” My tone is firm. If there’s any way I’m going to be able to live with my mom and keep attending cosmetology school, then I really need to get started with this therapy he’s been hyping. “Can you come over after school? I’ll give you the bacteriology cheat-sheet I created. It has all the questions and answers on the topics that will be on the state board test.”
He smirks. “If by that you mean, can I walk a few yards from your mum’s in-law quarters to her actual house, then I’ll try to find time to pencil it in.” Theo frowns. “How on earth do you have a cheat-sheet with all the questions and answers about bacteriology?”
“Research,” I state. “People who took the test post things like that online all the time. I just took the time to collect and organize it all.” I pull into a school parking spot, turning off the engine. “I have cheat sheets for every subject on the test. Not just bacteriology.”
Theo stares at me. “You’re a bit frightening, little Willow.”
We clock in with seconds to spare. Apparently, at this school, we lose fifteen minutes of our completed labor time for every minute we’re late. How that calculation is supposed to make sense or be fair in any way, I’m not sure. Maybe they’re just telling us that so we’ll come on time. Either way, I’m not willing to test out the theory.
Ash is sitting at her station when we get there. She’s talking to one of the only two other guys in our class. He has mousy brown hair with a blond stripe in the front, brown eyes, and skin that looks permanently pink. When Theo and I walk up, Ash smiles. “Charlie, this is my cousin, Willow.” She gestures to me.
Charlie raises his eyebrows. “Wait, you guys are cousins? But you’re white and she’s black. How does that work?”
Ash looks irritated. “I’m adopted,” she lies.
Charlie’s face softens into a combination of understanding and pity. “Ah.” He nods and wanders back to his station on the other side of the room.
As I take my seat between Ash and Theo, he disguises his laugh as a cough, but I wonder if he would have believed Ash, had I not explained the situation to him yesterday. He hangs his backpack on the back of his chair and starts texting someone, so I turn to my right.
“Ash,” I whisper. “You’ll never believe what happened after school.”
She leans toward me, mouth open and eyebrows raised, and I launch into my version of what happened after I embarrassed my mom in front of Gus.
“What the fuck?” She frowns. “I can’t believe your mom. Gus Badgley must be amazing in bed or some shit for her to care so much what he thinks.”
I try not to gag at the image of them having sex. “I don’t think it’s because of him,” I whisper. “She’s been fed up with me for so long now that it was only a matter of time. This was just the perfect opportunity for her to act on her feelings.”
Ash shakes her head. “Just come live with me. You know my mom won’t care.”
I stare at my hands. “Thanks, but I don’t think my mom would appreciate her younger sister taking in her daughter. I don’t want to bring all this drama into your house.” Not to mention, my aunt already has three kids, including Ash. The boys share a room, and despite Ash’s offer, I know how much she likes her space. Becoming Aunt Christie’s charity case would bring me more than shame than comfort.
Ash opens her mouth to say something, but Mrs. Harrison tells everyone to take their seats and quiet down. The volume of chatter lowers significantly, and Mrs. Harrison clears her throat. “Our spring fashion show begins in March,” she announces. “And I know it’s a little early, but I want all of you to start thinking of themes for the show. The nominations will be voted on at the end of the month, but first, everyone will be paired into a stylist-model team.”
Ash raises her hand but doesn’t wait to be called on. “Can we pick our partners?”
Mrs. Harrison pretends she doesn’t hear Ash’s question. “We’ll be watching videos of past performances so you can get an idea of what to expect. They are also indicative of our standards for the show.” Mrs. Harrison glances at a girl who has been raising her hand. “Yes, Daisy?”
“Can we at least choose whether we want to be the stylist or the model?”
“Yes.” Mrs. Harrison smiles. “You may choose your partner as well. Anyone who can’t make up their mind will be paired by me. You may also bring in a personal model from outside school if you want to. But there can’t be two models or stylists in one pair, obviously. There has to be one of each.”
Ash squeezes my hand. “You’re my model,” she whispers.
Mrs. Harrison has us work on our mannequins until break time. I give my dark-haired, heavily made up doll head a voluminous blow-out, taking care to hairspray it so it will still look good after break. That way I’ll get more points when I show it to Mrs. Harrison. Theo wrestles with his mannequin, trying to keep it upright on its stand, muttering “Bloody hell” every time it falls off from his running a brush through the strands. A small giggle escapes me. Ash doesn’t wo
rk on her doll head, opting to paint her own nails pastel green instead.
Charlie comes over to our stations, a pack of Marlboros in hand. “Wanna smoke?” he asks Ash.
“I’ll bum one of yours,” she says, blowing on her nails. “But we’re going to go find my boyfriend after.”
Charlie nods. He eyes me, like he knows not to offer me a cigarette. Like he knows I’m not cool enough for one. What I don’t tell him is that Ash rarely smokes, usually only when she’s extremely stressed out. It probably has something to do with her and Joseph, but I know better than to ask her right now.
“Come on, babe.” Ash flips her hair and links her arm through mine.
“Want to come?” Charlie asks Theo.
He shrugs, his blue eyes flickering to me briefly. “Why not?”
The three of us follow Charlie to the smoking section. It must be break time for at least some of the rest of campus as well because hordes of students make their way past our department toward the cafeteria at a rapid pace.
When we reach the smoking-approved section of the parking lot, Charlie hands a cigarette to Ash and then offers one to Theo.
“No thanks, mate,” he says. He removes his denim jacket now that we’re outside, away from the classroom’s air conditioning. When he does, I notice he has tattoos on his forearms. Theo gets a text and pulls out his phone, which vibrates excessively. At least five messages come through. Theo sighs and runs a hand through his dark hair, causing it to come out of its neatly combed style and fall into his face.
Ash lights her cigarette, and I sit on the curb, waiting for her to be done. What a fantastic way to spend our break, inhaling chemicals that will contribute to the decline of our health. Every breath I take while I’m sitting here is bringing me closer and closer and closer to lung cancer.
I shut my eyes, but that only exacerbates the scent. I’m aware of Charlie and Ash going on about something, but it’s hard to focus when I’m surrounded by so many chemicals. Maybe if I fix the way my shoes are tied, I’ll feel better. Or maybe I should just go inside.
“Well, Willow ...?” Ash waits.
I blink. “What?” I wasn’t aware her conversation with Charlie included me.
“Do you want to come to his back-to-school party?”
I glance at Charlie. He puts a hand on his hip, his cigarette almost down to the butt. “When is it?” I ask.
He takes a long drag. “Next Friday.” He says it without letting his breath go. When he finally does exhale, he says, “On Valentine’s Day.”
Friday.
My body races with adrenaline. “Oh,” I say. “Thank you for inviting me. But I can’t.”
Charlie gives me an incredulous look. A look that says he knows I have nothing going on that day. “Why not?”
Ash sighs. “Because she has a date with her bed and a Harry Potter book.” Her eyes flicker around the campus, looking for Joseph the way a hawk searches for field mice.
Charlie frowns. “Sounds ... fun?”
Even though Ash is lying to Charlie for me, it allows me to breathe a little more easily. At least now he won’t know the real reason I won’t be attending his party. Or any others on a Friday for that matter.
Ash stiffens. She lets her cigarette fall to the ground and doesn’t bother stomping it out. Without a word, she darts away from the rest of us and heads in the direction of three people chatting as they walk to class. I stand up and follow her. It’s Joseph, flanked by two girls who look identical.
I remain a safe distance away, not wanting to eavesdrop, as Ash finally catches up to him.
She grabs Joseph’s arm, turning him to face her, and his green eyes widen. With Ash’s back to me I’m unable to see her expression, but Joseph stares at the ground, rubbing his hand across the top of his shortly cropped brown hair. I can only imagine what she’s saying and feel a very small stab of sympathy for him. I can’t imagine being on Ash’s shit-list is pleasant by any stretch of the imagination. I don’t feel too bad for him, though, because if he is on her shit-list, he probably deserves it. Ash doesn’t hold meaningless grudges.
Ash points a finger at him, and though I can hear the sharp tone of her voice, I can’t discern any of the words she’s saying. Joseph frowns, and the gorgeous twins he’s with linger behind him awkwardly. One of them whispers something to the other, and they walk off without him.
We only have three minutes left before it’s time to clock in from break. I’m about to interrupt Ash to let her know when she abruptly turns and walks away from Joseph.
“Ashton!” he calls, cupping his hands around his mouth. When she reaches me she says nothing, just keeps walking toward the cosmetology building. He holds his hands up in exasperation, and as I catch up with her I get a glimpse of Ash’s red-rimmed eyes. Suddenly I want to punch Joseph for whatever he did to put her in such a state.
“What happened?” I ask her softly. But she doesn’t look at me, doesn’t answer me, doesn’t acknowledge me. I follow her inside and we grab our timesheets. Clock in. We are just shy of being late.
We find our seats, Theo at his desk already. He raises his eyebrows at me, but I shake my head lightly. I don’t know what’s going on with Joseph and my cousin any more than he does.
Ash doesn’t say anything as we take notes on sanitary maintenance areas—SMAs for short—or when we demonstrate our understanding of the set-up. I try to catch her eye a few times, but she studiously ignores all forms of communication. When Mrs. Harrison checks Ash’s SMA, she doesn’t say a word. My heart clenches. I want so badly to ask her what’s going on, but I know she won’t tell me yet. When the bell rings at three o’clock, dismissing us for the day, Ash shoulders past me without a word. I bite my lip as I watch her. If she doesn’t text me when she gets home, I’m going to show up at her house and demand to know what’s wrong.
Theo pokes me on the shoulder. I blink away my reverie and find him watching me. “Shall we stay here and people-watch?”
I roll my eyes and stand follow him. As we walk to my car, I glance at his hands, hanging loosely at his sides, and feel a jolt of nerves race through me.
“Do you need to do anything at your place before you come over?” I ask him when we reach Mitten Chip, mostly to have something to say.
“Oh no,” Theo says, already reclining the passenger seat and propping up his feet. “I don’t need you getting cold feet on me. We’re starting right away, little Willow.”
I swallow. “Okay, then.”
“Just remember. You’re going to be very uncomfortable,” he says, a little too cheerfully. “I hope you’re ready.”
I start the engine, scaring away a flock of birds searching for food in the parking space next to us. “So do I.”
Five
I send Ash a text before I start driving, still wondering if she’s okay.
Want to talk?
Her response is almost instant, as if she’s been waiting for my text, or maybe waiting for one from Joseph.
Tomorrow. I’ll tell you everything. I just want to be alone right now.
I toss my phone onto the dashboard. I’m not going to push her as long as she really intends to talk to me tomorrow. Otherwise, I’m going to start demanding answers.
“I’m curious,” Theo says evenly. “Did your mum ever take you to therapy in the past?”
I sigh. “Of course. I went once as a kid, and again more recently, about six months ago. It wasn’t the greatest experience.”
“Why not?”
“Because as soon as I opened up to her, she prescribed me Anafranil and called it a day. I refused to go back after that. If my therapist had any intention to try ERP with me, she didn’t say so.” At least I know Theo doesn’t have the authority to prescribe me anything at all. He’ll have to rely solely on cognitive behavioral therapy to make any progress with me.
“You should consider giving it another shot.”
I roll my eyes. “Trying to get out of helping me already?”
He l
aughs. “No. But your experience isn’t the norm. Therapy was the best thing that ever happened to me.”
I look him over. “I didn’t know you needed it.”
He gives me a humorless smile. “Yes, well. Growing up with a dad like mine wasn’t easy. I probably wouldn’t be quite as all right as I am now if it weren’t for my therapist. It was him who inspired me to start working with my dad in the first place. I know how messed up he really is, but if I could somehow help his patients the way my therapist helped me, I knew it would be worth it.”
I’m silent. I don’t know what to say, and I certainly hadn’t been expecting him to say that. I’d always thought therapists existed solely for parents to force their children to go to them when they didn’t know how to parent anymore. Had I really had such a bad experience, or was it that I’d never really been open to learning in the first place?
“I have to admit,” I tell Theo, “I never really tried in therapy. I’ve never wanted to give up my rituals and risk everything falling apart. I didn’t want to get better, but instead somehow find a way to both live with having OCD and still somehow make my mom happy.”
“Have you ever tried to stop reacting to your compulsions?”
I laugh. “I’ve never tried. To be honest, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to.” My voice sounds shaky, nervous even to my own ears.
Theo arches an eyebrow at me. “Are you doubting my skills, little Willow?”
I huff. “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into, Theo.” I shake my head, unable to meet his eyes. “I’m a hopeless case.”
“No you aren’t.” His voice is so firm, I turn to look at him. Traffic is heavy and we’re at a complete stop for the moment. Theo’s expression is steady. When he speaks, his voice is low. “I’ve seen hopeless, and believe me, love, you aren’t it.”
I laugh without humor. “If this ERP thing works, I may give therapy another shot.”
The car behind us sounds their horn, signaling us to move forward and making me jump.
“Ignore their hooting,” Theo insists.
“Hooting?” I can’t help but laugh in spite of the tone of our conversation. “What are you, an owl?”
One Carefree Day Page 5