One Carefree Day

by Whitney Amazeen

  “I’m a little worried Ash isn’t back yet,” I tell Theo, scanning the classroom for her face.

  Theo frowns and tugs on one of my curls. “Don’t worry, little Willow. I’m sure she’s done snogging Joseph and will be back any moment.”

  I nod at his words, and then realize belatedly that I’ve started tapping.

  I stop.

  “You can do this,” I whisper to myself.

  To prevent Ash from being late, I should keep tapping. I should rearrange my station, or count.

  No more.

  Instead, I take a deep breath and think of my happy place.

  Theo and I take a seat, and Mrs. Harrison informs us the rest of the day will be dedicated to working on our fashion show models. Since I’m Ash’s model, this means that I’ll be playing mannequin all day when she gets back. And so will Theo as Charlie’s model.

  Eva leans across Ash’s empty desk to tell me something. “Your cousin is here.”

  I turn around and see Ash rushing inside. She grabs her timesheet just as the bell rings.

  “Oh, come on,” she whines to Mrs. Harrison. “You saw me come in on time. Can I please not lose fifteen minutes?”

  The instructor clicks her tongue. “The rules exist for a reason.”

  Ash rolls her eyes and flips off Mrs. Harrison after she turns around. When she sits down next to me, she whispers, “Why didn’t you clock me in?”

  I stare at her incredulously. “Seriously? How was I supposed to know you were even coming back? If you didn’t show, I could have gotten sent home for the day.”

  She flips her hair. “Fine.”

  Theo leans over. “Why were you late?” he asks her.

  “I was hardly late!” She pauses. “And I might have been making out with Joseph. So what?”

  Theo smirks at me. “Told you.”

  Charlie makes his way over to our table. His hair is in freshly gelled spikes, his leather jacket dressing up his scrubs a bit. He smells like cigarettes and expensive cologne.

  “What are you thinking for Willow’s hair?” he asks Ash. “For Theo I know what I’m doing.”

  Ash leans forward in her desk, her voice animated. “Curls galore, which obviously won’t be hard. And look what I found on Pinterest.”

  Charlie studies Ash’s phone, and the two begin comparing costume ideas.

  “I can’t believe this semester will be done in a little over a month,” I say quietly to Theo.

  He glances at me. “I know. And then I’ll be returning home to London.”

  His words make my body feel like it’s been submerged in ice water. I stare at my hands. “I wish you could just stay.”

  His expression softens. “I know. But I’m not an American citizen, Willow. I have to go back home.”

  “But don’t you have a student visa? Can’t you at least stay until you get your cosmetology license?” I don’t know why I’m suddenly panicking. I knew this was coming. Theo even offered to let me come with him, but instead, I chose to stay in California so I can be near Ash. To move out and find an over-priced apartment. To live alone. I don’t have a right to complain.

  “I could come back,” he says. “But I still need to return home between semesters.”

  Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

  The ritual happens before I can stop it. I don’t even mean to do it, but it happens anyway. And Theo notices. He laces his fingers through mine, rubbing his thumb against my skin.

  I swallow, hard. The thought of him being so far ... in London. It’s terrifying. I don’t even realize I’m about to cry until he sighs and touches my face.

  “Willow ... what’s the matter?” He rubs his thumb against my cheek, and for some reason, it calms me. I swallow back my tears, willing myself not to cry.

  “I just didn’t expect to feel this way when it comes to you leaving,” I say, clearing my throat.

  Theo searches my face. “I’m still here,” he says. “I’m not leaving yet.”

  Ash and Charlie approach our tables from the other side of the room. I didn’t even notice they left.

  “We grabbed some styling products from the lab,” Ash tells me. “You guys are going to look so fucking hot.”

  “What’s the theme for the show, again?” I ask her, trying to sound normal. Theo drops his hand from my face, and I blink to clear my eyes. We were assigned our theme a few weeks ago, but with everything that’s been on my mind, I haven’t been as focused on school as I should be.

  “Victorian era,” Charlie says, hardly able to mask the excitement in his tone. He claps his hands together. “Such fun.”

  We make our way to the shampoo bowls, and Ash washes my hair and combs through it with ease. We’ve grown up together playing beauty salon all our lives. She knows how to handle my mane.

  But when I sit down at her station, she starts adding perm rods throughout my hair. I give her a quizzical expression. “Isn’t this a little counterproductive? I already have curly hair.”

  She rolls her eyes. “I know, babe. But these are going to give you different curls. More defined, controllable curls that will do what I want them to.”

  I smirk. “Sounds like wishful thinking.”

  Theo is getting his make-up done by Charlie, and I try not to laugh at his obvious discomfort when Charlie lines his eye with a dark pencil.

  “I just don’t see why this is necessary, mate,” he complains.

  Charlie shushes him. “This will make your features more visible from the stage,” he assures Theo.

  Mrs. Harrison observes each pair as she makes her way around, row by row. When she gets to Charlie and Theo, she visibly swoons. “You look like the cover of a naughty romance novel, Theodore,” she informs him. He glances at me helplessly, and the laugh I’ve been trying to contain bursts from my lips.

  “So what the fuck is up with you guys?” Ash asks me, her tone quiet enough that only I can hear. “Have you had sex or not? Because you were riding that bike like you wished it were him.”

  I blush furiously. “Oh, my—”

  “Don’t even try to deny it,” she interrupts. She has her no-bullshit look on her face, made even more severe by her bun hairstyle and red lipstick.

  I purse my lips and remain silent, which is basically all the confirmation she needs. Her knowing smile tells me as much.

  Ash continues working on my hair, seeming satisfied when the perm rods manipulate my hair into a more defined texture. She practices several up-dos, gives me a full face of makeup, and even does my nails.

  Hours later, my legs feel numb from sitting. Theo walks to my station after Mrs. Harrison deems his look complete.

  “I can’t wait to wash off this rubbish,” he states, gesturing at his face. I have to admit, he does look extra hot with all the makeup on.

  “Ow,” Ash mutters from behind me. I tear my eyes away from Theo. Ash touches her lower stomach.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  She grimaces. “I think so.” She takes a deep breath. “Ah! Oh my God. Ow!” Ash shrieks, and every eye in the class is suddenly on her.

  Mrs. Harrison frowns in our direction. “Are you okay over there?”

  Ash is panting now, holding her stomach with desperation. “I think I need to go to the hospital,” she whimpers. “It feels like I’m going into labor.”

  Twenty

  “Again?” Eva asks, rushing over to us. “Your baby legit has it out for you.”

  “Let’s go see your doctor,” I tell Ash. “I’ll go with you. I’ll drive you in your car.” I’m already gathering her things, and Theo helps Ash out of her chair.

  “Are you going with them?” Eva asks Theo, sounding dismayed.

  “Yes,” Theo says at the same time that I say, “No.”

  “Just stay here,” I tell him.

  “Like hell,” Theo says.

  I shake my head. “You don’t need to lose the hours, and you’ll probably end up having to leave the room anyway.”

  Theo’s lips form a tig
ht line, but he nods after a moment and then kisses me on the lips, right there in the middle of the classroom. My cheeks burn. If I weren’t so worried about Ash and her baby’s well-being, I would be both embarrassed and flattered in this moment.

  “I’m taking her to her doctor,” I tell Mrs. Harrison. “She isn’t feeling well.”

  Mrs. Harrison nods, her eyes tight. “I can’t excuse the hours this time.”

  “That’s fine,” I say, but my stomach drops. There goes my spotless record. I’ll just have to find a way to make up the hours somehow. There’s no way I’m making Ash go alone for the sake of perfect attendance.

  We rush out the doors and through the parking lot. I glance briefly at Theo’s bike parked a couple spots down.

  Ash groans, doubling over, and I try not to panic.

  Ash is not in pain because of me, I tell myself. It has nothing to do with my lack of rituals.

  I get in the driver’s side, contemplating.

  But what if it is my fault?

  I stare at the rearview mirror, and decide this small, insignificant ritual couldn’t hurt. If anything, maybe it will somehow make the situation better. I smile at my reflection in the mirror.

  1 second, 2 seconds, 3 seconds.

  And sigh with relief and regret.

  When we get to the hospital Ash is admitted right away, even though the waiting room is packed with people who got there first. The doctor asks her a million questions while prepping her for an ultrasound.

  “How far along are you?” he asks calmly.

  She shakes her head in exasperation. “I don’t know. Something-teen weeks.”

  He squirts gel onto her stomach and spreads it around like butter with a tiny handheld instrument. The same familiar noise from before sounds from the monitor. The doctor squints into the screen. “What does the pain feel like?”

  Ash grits her teeth. “Like someone driving a knife through my—” She breaks off as another contraction seizes her. She takes a deep breath when it’s over and says, calmly, “Like period cramps, times a thousand.”

  “Any blood?” the doctor asks, unfazed.

  “No.”

  His lips thin into a line as he continues examining the screen. “Your baby looks healthy. Measuring sixteen weeks. Good size, healthy heartbeat ...” He raises his eyebrows. “Would you like to know the gender?”

  I smile in excitement, but Ash doesn’t react even slightly. “Why am I in pain then, if everything is fine?”

  The doctor removes his glasses. “It’s likely you were experiencing Braxton-Hicks contractions. Completely normal.”

  “They didn’t feel fucking normal. If childbirth is anything like that, I want to be sedated.”

  “You can always opt for an epidural,” he informs her.

  “Fuck that,” she says. “Just numb me. Cut me open.”

  The doctor laughs. “Are you sure about the gender? It’s pretty clear ...”

  I look to Ash, not bothering to hide my anticipation. “You should have a gender-reveal party,” I say. “It would be so fun!”

  Ash snorts. “Yeah, okay. Sure thing. I’ll just look for a checklist on Pinterest.”

  “Can you write it down?” I ask the doctor. “In case she changes her mind?”

  He nods. “Absolutely.” He hands it to me as Ash gets dressed. The paper in my hand begs me to open it, but I can’t ruin the surprise. I’ll just have to wait and find out—at the party she will be having—with everyone else.

  When we’re free to go, Ash insists on driving, now that she knows her baby is in perfect health. But of course I refuse to sit in the passenger seat. I get behind the wheel despite Ash’s protestations.

  “I can’t believe you don’t care to know the sex,” I say and start the car.

  She shrugs. “I think it’s a boy. But it doesn’t matter to me either way. Speaking of sex, how was it with Theo last night?”

  I blink furiously. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  She arches an eyebrow at me. “If you don’t tell me, I’ll just ask him.”

  The blood drains from my face. “Okay, fine!” I sigh, remembering the feel of his skin against mine, the way the urgent longing in the pit of my stomach was finally met with delicious satisfaction. The way it felt to fall asleep in his arms, his even breathing the perfect soundtrack to the best night’s sleep I ever could have imagined. His soft lips against my face, my neck, my body. “It was ... amazing,” I whisper.

  She grins. “Better than Daniel?”

  My heart sinks, her words a needle against my bubble of happiness. Daniel. I hadn’t been thinking about him. He didn’t cross my mind once while I’d been with Theo. The shame instantly drowns me, guilt weighing my heart down until it sinks to the pit of my stomach. But the guilt isn’t for Daniel. I don’t feel like I’ve betrayed him by moving on. The guilt is my own, for not feeling any remorse at doing so.

  “I’m so sorry.” Her smile vanishes at my expression. She holds up a hand. “I didn’t mean to say that. It just came out, I swear.”

  We sit in silence for the rest of the car ride. I drive us to my house, parking along the curb.

  “I’m sorry, babe,” she says again, her voice pleading. “I’m such an insensitive bitch.”

  “No, you’re not,” I say, taking a deep breath. “It’s okay.”

  Her eyes search my face, as if the truth is hidden there. “Want to read together?”

  “Sure,” I say, meaning it. I need to take my mind off what she said. “Let’s go inside.”

  I haven’t decorated my bedroom walls in years.

  Every time I’ve tried, my anxiety is triggered by the slightest asymmetry of a picture on the wall, whether it’s not centered on the wall itself, or tilted to the side. It’s never been worth it to me, having to deal with something trivial like a decoration causing my anxiety to spiral out of control. Not to mention, I’ve never loved a piece of artwork enough to care.

  Until now.

  Hung in the center of the wall opposite my bed is the painting. The one Theo made of my happy place. My eyes gravitate toward it as soon as I step into my bedroom.

  So do Ash’s.

  “What is that?” she says. “Is that you?” She points to the girl in the painting. Her nose is practically touching it, and I resist the urge to tell her to back away.

  “Theo made it for me,” I tell her. “It’s my happy place.”

  She spins around, turning to face me. Her eyes are wide. “Theo painted that?” she asks. “For you? Of you?”

  I nod.

  She presses a hand to her mouth. “No wonder you let him in your pants.”

  I shake my head, annoyed, though she’s clearly joking. “It’s so much more than that, Ash. I ...” I trail off, unable to find any words adequate or satisfactory enough to express the feelings coursing through me. I finally settle on, “I love him.”

  “Are you serious?” She raises her eyebrows. “Wow. That’s ... wow.” She bites her lip, pondering my confession. “Have you told him?” she asks. “Does he love you?”

  I blink at her, realizing I haven’t told him how I feel, and I have no idea if he even loves me back. Perhaps I’m just a meaningless fling to him. Just a girl he screwed that semester he spent in California. The possibility makes my chest feel like a wad of wet clay being squeezed in someone’s fist. “I don’t know.”

  Ash bites her lip. “Babe, I’ve been thinking that maybe you should go to London.”

  “What are you talking about?” I gape at her.

  “It’s just that ...” Ash sighs. “I might need to end up taking next semester off to pop out this kid.” She touches her stomach. “And if that’s the case, I’ll only be a season behind you. You should go to school with Theo and all the other Brits when I take that time off.”

  I shake my head at her slowly. “I’m not going to school without you. This is our dream. Not mine alone.”

  “You’re being a dumbass,” she informs me. “If our ro
les were reversed, I would go without you.”

  “You would not.”

  “Hell yeah, I would,” she says. “Especially if a hot British guy like Theo invited me. Live a little. Let your hair down.”

  I scoff. “My hair is down.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Seriously, babe.” Ash grabs my hand and squeezes it. Her dark eyes shine, a hint of melancholy longing behind their surface. “Do it. Do it for the both of us.”

  A knot forms in the back of my throat. “It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

  “It’s never going to be the same again, anyway,” she says. “Not after this baby is born.”

  I stare at the ground, blinking back the tears threatening to present themselves. “I’ll get right on that,” I say bitterly. “As soon as he gets here, I’ll just tell Theo I love him and that he has a new roommate.”

  Ash smiles faintly and looks at the time on her phone. “That’s in like an hour. Want to read till then?”

  I nod, scooting onto one side of my bed so she can take the other. To Kill a Mockingbird provides a necessary distraction from the idea of going to school without Ash, and from her earlier comment about Daniel. I don’t ever want to compare Theo to Daniel. It’s taken years for me to stop feeling depressed about what happened to him, but he would want me to be happy, I think. I know he would at least want me to try.

  The time runs away from us, as it always does when I’m immersed in a book. This one in particular is one of the few I’ve ever related to. Not many people like me are in books, so it’s always a surprise when I come across one. It’s like an acknowledgement that I exist, somewhere out there in the world; that perhaps, just maybe, I’m not completely alone.

  Even if the representation isn’t a positive one, at least it’s there. I read the part of the story that makes my heart pound with conviction, with true empathy:

  “Jem,” I asked, “what’s a mixed child?”

  “Half white, half colored. You’ve seen ‘em, Scout. You know that red-kinkyheaded one that delivers for the drugstore. He’s half white. They’re real sad.”

  “Sad, how come?”

  “They don’t belong anywhere. Colored folks won’t have ‘em because they’re half white; white folks won’t have ’em cause they’re colored, so they’re just inbetweens, don’t belong anywhere. But Mr. Dolphus, now, they say he’s shipped two of his up north. They don’t mind ‘em up north. Yonder’s one of ’em.”