One Carefree Day

by Whitney Amazeen

  “A ... go?” I’ve forgotten how to speak.

  “Ride with me.” He holds his hand out, waiting for me to take it. He arches a brow at me, and I’m filled with so much dread, I’m surprised I’m standing upright. “I mean, you obviously don’t have to,” he says. “But it would be quite fun. And a step toward number three on your list.”

  3. Sitting in the passenger seat of a car while someone else drives.

  It’s finally hitting me this bike is Theo’s now. And he intends to ride it. On the street. Motorcycles are so much more dangerous than cars, which terrify me as it is.

  “My mom isn’t going to kick me out anymore,” I tell him, slightly breathless. “But I still want to do this. I want to stop using rituals, for myself. And then I want to move the hell out of her house.”

  Theo raises his eyebrows, a slow grin spreading across his lips. “Is that so? Then the obvious choice would be for you to accompany me.”

  I’ve managed to stay mostly ritual free today, with the exception of some thoughts. But right now, there is nothing I want to do more than retreat into myself and let my anxiety find an outlet through my rituals. I want to comfort myself by going back to the old Willow, the one I decided to throw away last night. The one constantly holding me back. And for the first time, I realize how hard my resolution is going to be to fulfill.

  Riding Theo’s new bike with him could be a good way to start. It would be scary. It would definitely give me anxiety. But I could ride with him and try to resist performing any rituals. At the same time, I’m absolutely terrified to ride a two-wheeled death machine with him. I can’t think of anything worse at the moment, actually.

  So, I do what the old Willow would do. I search for a way to buy myself some time to hyperventilate. “I need to change my clothes first,” I say, which is actually true. There’s no way I’m getting on that thing unless I’m covered from head to toe. I’d like to avoid getting skinned alive, if possible.

  “All right.” Theo leans against the closed garage door to wait for me. He picks his nails, oblivious to what’s happening inside me.

  I go to my room and sit down on the floor. It’s mostly clean, with a few things purposefully out of place. To anyone else, it would look pretty normal, but to me, everything is where it is for a reason. Normally, being here would set my anxiety at ease, but knowing what I’m about to do has my heart racing already.

  1, 2, 3, 4, 5. Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

  Thinking the sequence of numbers and tapping calms me instantly, but I’m also pricked with a sting of guilt and shame for having such a weak moment.

  I am better than this.

  And even though I know it’s true, I feel so, so small right now. I need to talk to Ash.

  I send her a novel of a text message, explaining exactly what’s happening, and how I’m feeling. I hit send, close my eyes, pressing my fingers to my temples. I breathe in and out, trying desperately not to tap as I do, willing myself not to breathe to a particular rhythm.

  I don’t even realize when Ash comes into my room. How did she get here so quickly? How long have I been sitting here? Her face a fierce mask of disapproval. “Pull yourself together. Are you fucking joking?”

  I close my eyes. “I’m scared! I want to be brave, but it’s a motorcycle!”

  Ash crosses her arms. “Did you mean what you said? About actually trying?”

  I nod tightly, my lips thinning into a line.

  “Then I don’t give a flying fuck if you’re scared! Go hop on that bike with that sexy hunk of a man and stop bitching!"

  I groan. “Why don’t you just go with him?” I’m trying to buy more time to mentally prepare myself and Ash knows it.

  She glares at me. "He's not my type. Too regal. Not to mention,” she says, considering, “I’m pregnant.”

  "I know you, and I know you'd give anything to be the one riding on the back of his motorcycle." I’m saying it more to myself than to her, as if voicing aloud Ash’s inherent courage will allow me to muster up some of my own.

  "Yeah, except if it was me, we'd just lose the motorcycle and get straight to the point of riding."

  "Ashton!" I resist the urge to laugh.

  She holds her hands up. "Okay, fine! There would be foreplay involved."

  I slap a hand on my face. This is what I have to deal with.

  "Okay, look, Willow," she begins again. "You really have nothing to be afraid of. I've gone on plenty of rides with guys in my lifetime, with and without motorcycles, and both are really fun." She smiles like her advice is helpful.

  I peer up at her, wishing she could just occupy my body and be me for this small bit of time. Why do I have to be the one with anxiety? Why couldn’t I have been born brave, headstrong, and carefree? It isn’t fair. Life isn’t fair.

  I don’t know why I’m wallowing. I know this, that nothing is fair. So I sit up and take a deep breath. The only way for me to be brave, headstrong, and carefree, is to work toward it. Since I wasn’t born with those particular qualities, I’ll have to develop them myself.

  Seventeen

  Theo is still waiting for me outside. I’m honestly surprised he didn’t conclude that I’d chickened out.

  I’m garbed in a stiff pair of jeans, boots, and a pullover sweater. My hair is in a low braid, draped over my shoulder.

  Theo’s relief when he sees me is palpable. He gestures to his bike. “Are you ready?”

  “To get on this death trap with you? Yes.” I nod, quickly. “Yes, I really am. I’m ready.”

  He studies me, his eyes lingering on mine for a moment too long. “Are you sure?” He brushes my cheek with his finger. “Will you tell me if it’s too much for you? I don’t want to put you through anything you aren’t ready for.”

  It’s like he can read my mind, but I don’t know what I’m more nervous about: backing down or getting on that bike. My smile is weak. “I promise.”

  “All right then.” He grabs a helmet from the seat of the bike. Before I know it, he’s handing me one as well.

  “The bike has two helmets?” I ask him.

  “Of course.” He frowns. “You didn’t think there was any way I’d let you ride without one, did you?” I briefly wonder why whoever gifted him the bike would give him an extra helmet unless it already came with it.

  Theo holds up a finger. “A few things to note.” He pats the seat of the bike. “I’m all for ladies first, but you’ll have to get on after I do, so I can keep the bike steady.”

  I nod, willing myself to pay close attention. “Okay.”

  “If for any reason at all you want to stop, just say so,” Theo says softly.

  I frown. “But how will you hear me? Won’t it be too loud?”

  “It will be like talking on the phone,” he says, tapping a small microphone attached to the helmet. “The helmet has Bluetooth,” he explains.

  I raise my eyebrows, not willing to admit aloud that I’m impressed. Theo slides the helmet over his face, and swings one leg over the bike with ease. He holds out a hand to help me up, but I hesitate.

  “Alright?” his muffled voice asks.

  I take a deep breath. I can do this. I take his outstretched hand and hoist myself over the seat, struggling less than I thought I would. With Theo’s feet on the ground to balance the bike, it actually doesn’t move around too much.

  “Ready?” I hear Theo’s voice through the electronic device inside the helmet. His tone is so clear, it feels like he’s speaking to me inside my head. Though it’s slightly unnerving initially, I have to admit it’s also comforting. He’s right; it does sound like we’re talking on the phone.

  “Yes,” I breathe. “I’m ready.”

  Theo starts the engine, and I feel the bike come to life beneath me. The reverberation reminds me of a purring cat, a running washer machine. Its steadiness soothes me for some inexplicable reason. The motorcycle makes a sound that one can only describe as a vroom.

  And then we start moving.

  We take
off at a speed that makes my stomach drop like a rollercoaster. I keep my eyes shut at first but realize quickly how much that isn’t going to help me. When I finally peek, I see a bit of Theo’s shoulder and the street blurring below us. Without turning my head too much, I watch my neighborhood fly by, the wind whipping my braid like a victory flag.

  But the most surprising part of it all is that I feel like I’m flying.

  We are flying.

  My mouth splits into a grin so wide, it hurts against the restraints of the helmet, and I don’t understand why I’m not scared. In fact, I’ve never felt so exhilarated.

  “Care for some music?” Theo asks. “I can connect to my mobile.”

  “Sure,” I say breathlessly.

  He presses a button on the helmet, and music begins to play through the speaker in my ear. I recognize the song as Every Time You Go by Ellie Goulding. I actually laugh aloud. “You like this song?” I hope he can still hear me despite the music playing.

  And then I hear him in my ear, only slightly louder than the song. “Actually, I saw it on your playlist.” There’s a smile in his voice. “I added it to mine a while back out of curiosity. I thought it might relax you now to hear a song you like.”

  Now I’m grinning impossibly wider than before. “How did you even ...” I trail off, deciding I actually don’t care how he managed to sneak a peek at my playlist. “Thank you,” I say, simply.

  We turn out of my neighborhood onto a main road, and while I’ve been enchanted up to this point, I feel my first surge of unease. There are other drivers to factor into the equation now.

  We peel down the street and I try not to scream, certain it will hurt Theo’s ears. I tighten my grip around his waist, and my heart rate increases in response. He’s so close right now, I’m sure if I weren’t wearing a helmet, I would be able to smell his skin, his neck, his cologne. The thought makes me dizzy.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I watch the landscape pass me in a way that is completely different from riding in a car. I am not protected by the barrier of a window, a door, a metal frame. It’s both liberating and terrifying. I feel as if I could fly off the back of the seat at any moment, up into the air, soaring through the skies like a balloon.

  The song changes, and this time it’s one I don’t recognize. “What band is this?” I ask.

  “It’s Phoenix,” Theo replies. “Do you like it?”

  I pause, giving the tune a listen, and find I do like it. “It’s not awful,” I tell him.

  He laughs.

  We’re about to get on the freeway. I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment and then remember I don’t like the way it feels to ride with my eyes closed.

  I’m completely out of control. And also, a bit nauseous.

  Deep breath, I tell myself. In and out. But not any specific number of times. You can do this.

  As if he senses my internal struggle, he asks, “Alright?”

  “I—I think so,” I mutter.

  “Let’s pull over,” he says.

  “No,” I say quickly. “I’m okay. I’m fine.” I take another deep breath, steadying myself. My hands tighten around his waist.

  I imagine my happy place. I'm lying in a spring meadow under a tree with a book. My little black dog on the grass beside me. The twittering of little birds all around me. Hummingbirds’ wings flapping, bluebirds chirping, robins flying—

  Our light turns green, and we enter the freeway ramp. I try not to focus on all the cars surrounding us. All the accidents that happen here. The fast speed mandatory for us to travel at.

  Instead, I focus on Theo. His strong, broad shoulders. His British accent. The dark hair hiding under his helmet. His blue eyes piercing through me every time they stare at me. His intoxicating scent.

  We take the first exit.

  I frown beneath my helmet, wondering why we’re slowing down, why we’re stopping in a shopping center. When Theo pulls into a parking space and turns off the bike, the absence of the rumble echoes through my body. He gets down, and I worry for a moment it will tip, but he holds it upright with his hand and secures the kickstand.

  “What are we doing?” I demand. “Why did we stop?”

  He removes his helmet, and stares at me incredulously. “Willow, you clearly were uncomfortable.”

  I take my helmet off too, showing him my indignation. “I was not!” But I know he can see the lie on my face easily.

  He sighs. “If you say you’re fine, I believe you. But you can tell me the truth.” Theo crosses his arms. “Were you frightened?” he asks me, his tone plain and serious.

  I close my eyes. “I wasn’t.” I don’t want to see his face when I admit the truth. “Until we got on the freeway.”

  He’s silent, and when I open my eyes, his expression is gentle. “It’s all right, you know,” he says. “I think it’s brilliant that you enjoyed as much of the ride as you did.” He flashes an impossibly white grin.

  “Well, we’re not done,” I inform him. “I want to go again. Highway this time.”

  He arches a brow. “Are you sure? I’d say you did well enough today.”

  “I’m sure.” My tone is firm, and I’m filled with a calm resolve. I haven’t had any deeply intrusive thoughts yet. I try to keep from thinking too in depth about it, for fear that doing so will induce them.

  He puts his helmet back on. “All right then, let’s go.”

  The freeway isn’t that bad.

  It’s only scary if I think about it, if I let myself dwell on the reasons why it’s dangerous. So instead, I ponder why this is better than riding through town. For one, we don’t have to stop at any lights, which rips me out of the very welcome illusion that I’m flying, like a bodiless entity traveling at the speed of light. Like a bird permeating the condensation we call clouds.

  We never stop. We fly across the roads, not held back by a single thing, physical, mental, or emotional. I can’t believe I find so much meaning, so much depth, so much purpose in the small act of traveling in a new vehicle.

  But it’s more than that.

  I’m finally allowing myself to embrace a situation that’s entirely out of my control. The restraints on my mind have loosened, allowing me enough space to crawl out, to set myself free. It’s the first and largest step I’ve ever taken towards escaping the prison I’ve built around myself.

  When we arrive back at my house, it’s too soon; I don’t want this to end. I want to live on the back of this motorcycle, holding Theo close, all the while hidden from his view. He turns off the bike once we’re parked in the driveway. Again, my body feels like it’s lacking something without the motorcycle emitting its vibrations through me.

  Theo helps me off and removes my helmet. Without the barrier of it, I feel almost naked, strangely vulnerable and exposed. “I think it’s safe to say you were brilliant, little Willow.” Theo holds the helmet between us. His eyes are hooded, gazing at me in a way that makes my stomach flutter.

  “I think it’s safe to say I deserve a break from ERP tomorrow.”

  “If you so desire,” Theo says, arching a brow. “But then, you won’t have an excuse to come and see me.”

  I laugh. “I wasn’t aware I needed one.”

  “Of course you do. I might get the wrong idea otherwise.”

  I roll my eyes, unable to conceal my grin. “Goodnight, Theo.”

  He smiles faintly. “Goodnight, little Willow.” When he grabs my face and presses his lips against mine, my knees threaten to buckle. His lips are so soft. I twine my hands in his hair, and Theo grips my waist. The kiss lasts long enough to make my body react, the heat between my legs making me squirm.

  When I go inside my house, I lie down on my bed and stare at the ceiling. My thoughts linger on Theo. On how much I wish he was lying next to me. The way his muscles flexed as he worked the bike, and how the feel of him calmed me in my brief moments of nervousness.

  For the first time in my entire life since developing obsessive compulsive disorder, I made it throu
gh an extremely anxiety-inducing experience—one the old Willow would have never, in a million years, voluntarily placed herself in.

  I rode on the back of a motorcycle.

  And I didn’t perform a single ritual.

  Eighteen

  “Willow?” My mom knocks on my bedroom door. “May I come in?”

  It’s been nearly two weeks since I’ve last spoken to her. Two more weeks of ERP with Theo and progress she can’t deny. But it doesn’t mean my feelings have simply gone away, or that I’m ready to talk to her.

  So far I’ve been successful in avoiding her, but I know it can’t last forever. “Sure.” I set down my paperback of To Kill a Mockingbird. Since finishing my reread of the Harry Potter series, I needed something to distract me from starting it all over again. “Come in, I guess.”

  My mom enters my room and sits on my bed. Offering me a weak smile, she smooths my hair down and takes in my face. She wrinkles her nose. “No makeup today?” she asks. “Did you go to school like that?”

  I sigh. “What do you need, Mom?”

  Her smile wavers. “I just wanted to know if you made your decision yet. If you’re moving out or staying here. With me.”

  I fidget with my hands. “I have, actually.”

  She holds up a finger. “Before you say it, I want to tell you something.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “What is it?” Whatever she has to say probably won’t influence my decision. I still don’t feel like I can trust her. And she hasn’t apologized once for what she did.

  My mom sniffles, smoothing out my bedding with concentration. “Gus broke up with me.”

  “He did?” My mouth falls open.

  She nods, pressing her lips together so tightly that wrinkles form around them. “He didn’t like the idea of me putting those meds in your food. He thought it was wrong.”

  “Well, it was wrong, Mom.”

  She doesn’t say anything for a long moment. “It’s just going to be me here,” she says so quietly. “All alone, if you leave me.” Her eyes shine.

  I lower my gaze. “Maybe you should have thought about that before you did it.”