One Carefree Day

by Whitney Amazeen

  I part my lips, gliding my tongue along the edge of his, and the kiss deepens. His mouth moves against mine with urgency and it fills me from head to toe, nearly tearing me apart. There’s a frenzy in me I can’t suppress.

  Theo groans and before I know it we’re stumbling down the hall until we’re on his bed, a tangle of limbs and hair and teeth. His weight presses down on me in the most satisfying way.

  Theo. You’re kissing Theo, my brain screams.

  His bed vibrates. I glance next to my head and see Ash’s name on my phone. How it ended up out of my pocket and next to me on the bed, I have no idea. But Theo’s lips are on my neck, and I shut my eyes again, reveling in the sensation. I can’t contain my moans, and they only fuel the fire igniting in Theo, the fire that is now attaching itself to me and spreading through my veins.

  My phone vibrates again, but I ignore it. I push Theo and roll on top of him, almost tearing his shirt when I pull it up, over his head, and throw it on the floor with mine. I’m inevitably conscious of the nude bra I’m wearing. I wish I’d chosen to wear something more exciting today. But Theo doesn’t seem to mind. He takes me in, and his eyes darken, his pupils expanding. I look at him too—and tremble. His body is a piece of art as fine as his paintings. His fingers trail down my stomach, leaving goosebumps in their wake as they map out every inch of my skin.

  When his hands travel lower, the need coursing through me becomes unbearable. “Theo,” I whimper.

  His fingers pause and he’s about to say something when my phone goes off again, irritating me beyond belief. I sigh and get off him to reach for it. It’s Ash again. I glance at Theo and hold up a finger. “Let me just answer this,” I tell him. Into the phone, I say, “This better be important.”

  “Willow,” Ash breathes. Her voice is frantic, and it’s enough to take my mind off Theo for the moment.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, suddenly alert.

  “It’s the baby,” she says, her voice cracking. “I’m at the hospital. I think I started my period.”

  Fourteen

  “But what about the pains? Those must point towards a miscarriage.” Ash is arguing with the doctor. He assures her they’re called round ligament pains, and despite her bleeding, the baby is perfectly healthy. Apparently, women can bleed during pregnancy, and it doesn’t necessarily mean anything is wrong. I have no idea how Ash stays so calm all the time. If I were her, I’d constantly think something was wrong with my baby and be even more of a mess than I already am. Maybe she’s a mess too, and merely hides it well.

  In my urgency to meet Ash at the hospital, I rushed away, leaving Theo shirtless on his bed, offering nothing more than a frantic, unintelligible explanation. I blush, remembering how his hands on my skin, his lips against mine, had almost undone me.

  I glance down at myself and notice my shirt is on backward.

  Ash scoffs at her doctor. “How the hell am I supposed to know if something is actually wrong, then?”

  I try to tune out their conversation. Now that I’m away from Theo, I’m able to think clearly. My heart is still floating, high in the sky, never wanting to come down. I haven’t been open to the possibility of a relationship since Daniel. I haven’t wanted to give myself a chance to open my heart to anyone else, at risk of hurting them unintentionally with my thoughts. But maybe giving up my rituals isn’t as dangerous as I believed. I’ve been weeding them out slowly, and nothing drastic has happened yet. I have to admit I was worried about Ash, that maybe my lack of tapping, of smiling into mirrors, of sterile hygiene had affected her and the baby. But she’s okay. Her baby is fine too.

  Perhaps there’s a chance I can live a normal life, free of myself, someday in the future.

  The only thing standing in my way is my mom. I have no idea if she’ll even accept my journey through ERP therapy over taking medication. If she doesn’t, I’ll have no choice but to move out, and then I can kiss any hope of sanity goodbye. I can’t be alone or live with a complete stranger. I just can’t. Even the thought of it makes me wish I hadn’t been born so I won’t have to suffer through it.

  The doctor washes his hands after he’s completely finished examining Ash. He uses two paper towels. Two. He throws them away crumpled together, hugging and clumped like they’re one, but they aren’t even balled up into a round shape. I have to literally force myself not to reach into the trash can and pry apart the paper towels he threw away. They’re uncomfortable, stuck together like that. The doctor says something to Ash, but all I can think about is the way the paper towels are lying in the garbage can. I need to fix them.

  He leaves, and Ash begins to dress herself. “Such bullshit,” she mutters.

  “What is?” I ask her. “That they want you to take vitamins?” I stand up, completely unable to stop myself from reaching into the garbage can. I take out the wad of paper towels and smooth them out one at a time. Then I add a third one to the stack. I throw them away all over again, myself this time, making sure they’re in the correct position.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Ash holds up her hands. “I thought you were working on your compulsions, babe.”

  “I am.” When I finish, I wash my hands and dry them. But the paper towel I use on myself dislodges the others when I throw it away, and I’m forced to repeat the process all over again. “But number seven still bothers me sometimes.”

  “Number seven?”

  “‘Objects in an uncomfortable position’,” I explain.

  Ash comes up from behind me, reaching for the trash in my hands. “Stop.”

  I move it out of her reach. “You stop.” Now she has me all messed up. “Sit back down. Seriously.”

  She sighs but doesn’t take a seat. “Just meet me out there when you’re done. She heads for the door. “I refuse to watch you play with trash.”

  I go back home to explain everything to Theo. The sun is about to set, and it’s starting to get chilly outside, so I stop at my room first to grab a sweater.

  I pause in the doorway when I catch sight of someone in the kitchen. Gus Badgely is sitting at the table.

  I wave awkwardly, even though he isn’t looking at me. “Long time, no see, Gus.”

  Gus jumps, clearly startled by my presence. His white polo shirt makes his red hair stand out more than it did the last time I saw him. “Willow!” He stands up and shakes my hand.

  I grin at him. “Good to see you.”

  “Hey—you didn’t wipe off my handshake this time.” He smiles good-naturedly. “I feel honored. Looks like the meds are kicking in!”

  I laugh, despite how much his jab stings. “Actually, I’m not on meds.”

  He tilts his head to the side. “No? That's not what your mom said.”

  I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “Actually my mom only wants me to take medication. I haven’t, nor do I intend to.”

  Gus frowns and pauses for a long moment. “That’s strange,” he says slowly. “Because your mom filled a six-month-old prescription for Anafranil with me shortly after ... the first time I met you.” Gus shifts on his feet, as if uncomfortable from recalling that day. “She said it was from your most recent therapy session, and you finally agreed to give the meds a go. Good thing she filled it when she did, because it was close to expiring!”

  I stare blankly at Gus. “What do you mean she filled the prescription?”

  “Wait a minute.” Gus frowns. “You really didn’t know? Maybe she forgot to tell you.”

  My heart races. “I don’t think that’s something she would forget.”

  The front door opens and my mom walks in looking harried. Today is her day off, which is the only reason she’s awake right now. When she sees Gus standing next to me, she pastes a smile on her face that only I can tell requires quite a bit of effort. “Sweetheart, I thought you were meeting me at the restaurant in half an hour.”

  Gus grins. “I couldn’t wait that long.”

  My mom’s lips thin. She glances at me. “Willow, honey. Did you eat the l
eftover breakfast I made you this morning? You look too thin.”

  I don’t say anything. I can’t trust myself to speak after what Gus told me.

  My mom checks the fridge, and when she sees the plastic container she left me with French toast still inside, she sighs. She takes the container out of the fridge and hands it to me. “Please eat it, honey.”

  I frown. “It’s dinnertime. I’ll eat it tomorrow morning.”

  She shakes her head. “No, you’ll eat it now. I made it for you and missed out on much-needed sleep because of it.” She tries to hand it to me again, but I don’t take it.

  “I don’t want the food right now, Mom.”

  Her face turns a faint shade of red. “Willow Daphne Bates.”

  I scoff. “Why do you want me to eat it right now so badly?”

  Gus’s gaze shifts back and forth between the two of us. His easy smile starts to slip.

  “Because,” my mom says. “I want to make sure you actually eat it.”

  “Why?” I ask. But as the words come out of my mouth, a wave of horror—of disbelief crashes into me. The reason hits me: why my mom randomly started making me breakfast every morning, when she hadn’t done so since I was in middle school. Why she’s been saving it for me in clearly labeled containers even when I don’t have time to eat.

  “Gus told me, mom,” I whisper. “He said you filled my Anafranil prescription.”

  My mom’s face whitens. She stares at me, motionless. “I—”

  “Have you been putting the meds in my breakfast?” I cover my face with my hands. “Have you, Mom?”

  I expect her to immediately deny it. To somehow shake the confidence in the revelation I’ve just made. In fact, there’s nothing I want more than for her to tell me she would never do something like that. I want her to call me crazy, to tell me not to ask such outlandish questions. But she doesn’t say anything at all. She just stares at me, gaping and wide-eyed.

  She doesn’t need to answer.

  Her silence is enough.

  I shoulder past her and Gus, ignoring my mom’s weak attempts at an explanation, and run out the door.

  Fifteen

  I knock on the door to the guest house, tears tickling my cheeks as they slide down my face. I need to be away from my mom. I can’t be in the same room as her right now, or even the same house. In fact, there are only two people I want to talk to right now.

  I text Ash, asking if I can come over and stay the night.

  Of course, babe, she responds. What’s going on?

  Theo answers the door before I can respond to her, and the moment he sees me, his eyes blaze. He swings the door open and his arms are suddenly around me, tucking me into him and pulling me close. “Willow,” he says, his voice bordering on rage. “Are you all right? What happened, love?”

  I exhale, but it’s invaded by sobs. My body shakes with each silent round of crying.

  “Bloody hell, Willow. I’m about to murder someone.” Theo’s voice is deep, anxious. “Tell me what happened.”

  “My m-mom has been ...” I take a deep breath. “She’s been putting Anafranil in my breakfast every morning. She’s been giving me medication without my consent and I just found out.”

  Theo’s jaw twitches. His eyes are full of denial and barely concealed rage. “That’s illegal,” he says. “She could be arrested, not to mention lose her nursing license.” He runs his hands over his face.

  “She wouldn’t deny it,” I tell him. “I asked her, and she didn’t say a word.”

  Theo swears and stares at the ceiling and then the floor. “God.” And then he sits down beside me, pulling me close to his chest. “Are you physically all right? How are you feeling?”

  I close my eyes. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to trust my mom again, if it’s even a possibility. I can’t imagine facing her and feeling anything but betrayal, ever again. Our relationship can’t possibly be the same after this. It’s almost like mourning, thinking about the life I’ve known for so long, gone in the flash of a truth come to light.

  “I feel sick to my stomach,” I whisper. “But I don’t think it’s because of the meds.”

  Theo tightens his arms around me. “If it weren’t for the state you’re in right now,” he growls, “I would demand to have quite a few words with your mum.”

  “Please don’t leave.” I grip his shirt. I just want him to keep holding me, to let me escape in the comfort of his presence.

  Theo gently kisses the top of my head. “I won’t.”

  “What am I supposed to do?” I bury my face in Theo’s shirt, and my next words come out slightly muffled. “I can’t just go back home and pretend everything is okay. Even if my mom apologizes, it will never be the same between us.”

  Theo shakes his head as if my concerns are unwarranted. “We’ll both move out,” he says. “You’ll live with me.”

  My heart skips a beat. Did Theo just ask me to move in with him? I’m not sure I’m ready for such a big step, even if I don’t feel safe with my mom. It just seems so ... sudden. Not to mention the financial repercussions. “But if I move out ...” I sniff. “My mom won’t help me with school anymore. I can’t afford to pay for both school and a lease.” As much as his suggestion partly sounds like a fantasy to me, I know I can’t entertain the idea. This is reality, and it just doesn’t make any sense.

  Theo’s lips form a straight line. “Your tuition is no matter,” he says. “Let me pay for it. Or at least let me help.”

  “No.” I shake my head. “There’s no way I’m letting you pay for me to go to school. Besides, you won’t be in America forever. And once you leave, I’ll be alone.”

  Theo lifts my chin, so I’m forced to meet his eyes. “Then come to London with me after this semester,” he says. “We can transfer to a school there. You can take out a loan and live in a dormitory if you really won’t let me pay for anything.”

  My lips part. Going to school in London ... I don’t think anything could possibly sound more exciting. But to drop everything and move to a country I haven’t been to since I was five makes my chest tight with worry.

  “I can’t just leave Ash,” I decide. “She’s pregnant, and we’ve always wanted to go to school together.” I untangle myself from him and stand up. “In fact, I’m supposed to go to her house tonight. She’s waiting for me.”

  Theo reaches for me again, a small pout on his lips. “Now look who’s leaving,” he murmurs, placing a feather-light kiss against the edge of my jaw. He presses his lips together, seeming lost in thought. “Will you at least consider my offer?” he asks. “Talk about it with her if you must.”

  I sigh, searching his face. If I’m going to consider moving to another country with him—the same one his dad lives in—then I need to know everything. I need him to be honest. “Theo,” I say. “What was Eliza’s message?” Theo’s eyebrows pull together when he looks at me, like it hurts for him to think about it. “Please tell me,” I whisper.

  He pauses for a moment before answering. “My dad wanted me to know that if I open my mouth, I’ll pay. And that he’d like for me to come home so he can make sure I stay quiet.”

  I frown. “Open your mouth? About what?”

  Theo holds out his wrist—where the Lucy tattoo is—and stares at me pointedly, as if trying to convey a message without speaking, and I remember what he told me about his mom losing her baby shortly before she committed suicide. How no one else knows his dad abused her, and how that might be the reason she had a miscarriage. If anyone knew the truth, Theo’s dad could be implicated.

  I nod at Theo to show him I understand, and his shoulders relax. “Thank you for telling me.” I thread my fingers through his. “I’ll think about your offer,” I tell him.

  Theo smiles faintly, but it disappears as quickly as it comes. He places a kiss against my hand. “Thank you.”

  This is the longest night I’ve had in a while.

  When I finally finish telling Ash everything—including what happe
ned with Eliza but leaving out the part about kissing Theo—she sits speechless on her bed beside me. “What the fuck,” she finally says. “I can’t believe your mom!”

  I stare at her white comforter, my eyes stinging from lack of blinking.

  “Hey,” she says, nudging me gently. “Are you going to be okay?”

  I shrug. “Honestly, Ash? I don’t know. I thought I was finally getting rid of my rituals, all on my own. But knowing she’s been giving me meds this entire time makes me feel like none of my progress was from my own efforts.”

  Her lips thin. “Not necessarily. I think it takes a while for those types of meds to kick in.”

  Part of me doesn’t want to hear what she’s saying. The part that wants her to tell me there’s no point in continuing ERP, especially since I can’t go back to living with my mom, to trusting her. The reason I’ve even been trying to conquer my compulsions was because of her ultimatum: take medication or move out.

  She’s already given me medication against my will. I might as well move out and go back to the way I’m comfortable being. Consumed by my compulsions.

  “Do you have any idea how long this has been going on?” she asks me.

  “No,” I whisper. “How am I ever supposed to trust her again?”

  She bites her bottom lip, absentmindedly. “Okay, I’m going to say something, and I don’t want you to get mad.”

  I face her. “What?”

  She takes a deep breath. “I get why you’re upset. I’d be fucking pissed if someone tried to pull that shit with me. But what if what your mom did was sort of a blessing in disguise?”

  I gape at her. “Ash, what are you talking about? She went behind my back! She tried to cure me! Like I’m an illness or something.”

  She sighs. “You do technically have an illness,” she reminds me. “And despite how you may feel about medication, you have to admit you really have made progress in such a short amount of time. Nothing bad happened to you either. You didn’t have an allergic reaction like you did when you were little.”