by Lacey London
Once confident the panic is subsiding, I bite my lip to stop it from trembling and pull open the door to the street. The little voice in the back of my mind tells me this was a test. It was a taster of what’s to come if I don’t turn on my heels and run back home. Shoving my hands into my pockets, I gingerly put one foot in front of the other and peer into the window of a perfume shop. The array of glistening bottles twinkle back at me, teasing me inside with their glitzy packaging.
The old me would be in her element right now. She would revel in covering herself with various scents and splash out on more bottles than she could use in a lifetime. Pressing my nose against the glass, I will myself to find that girl again. She must be in there somewhere, she has to be. I force the muscles in my face to smile, but my lips immediately fall flat. It’s just not there. Not even a tiny part of me wants to go inside. I spot my mum’s go-to perfume and my heart aches. She’s probably wearing that right now as she lies in the sunshine with a cocktail. My heart hurts as I realise she hasn’t even contacted me. Even after Aldo’s phone call, her only concern was her precious mansion.
Moving my gaze along the display, I stop at Spencer’s aftershave and laugh ironically as I spot Ivy’s sickly scent sat next to it. Same brand, same bottle, just a different name. I find myself captivated by how well the two bottles fit together. It’s almost as though they’ve been designed that way. Intentionally made to slot bedside one another on the dressing table of a stunningly beautiful couple. Looking at my own perfume of choice, I realise Spencer’s aftershave would never fit next to mine as seamlessly. My bottle is smooth, curved and delicately embossed, whereas his is angular and cubic, with more sharp edges than necessary.
Raindrops start to fall from the sky and I find myself questioning my sanity. What am I doing here? Why on earth am I torturing myself over bloody perfume bottles? I should just go back home. This whole mission was pointless. I don’t feel better for carrying on as normal. If anything, I feel worse than I did this morning.
Deciding to flag down a taxi, I pull up my hood and make my way across the crowded street. The rain suddenly becomes heavy and I run under a café canopy to shield myself from the harsh conditions. It’s like the weather knows how I am feeling. Nothing tells you that you should have stayed in bed like being caught in near hurricane conditions. A flurry of people brush past me into the restaurant and the delicious smell of freshly baked pastries drifts out onto the street.
Peering inside, I cup my hands around my eyes for a better view. The busy eatery is filled with wet people, each one warming their hands with the help of a coffee or a hot chocolate. The words of the lady on the app come rushing back to me and I wonder if I should join them.
No matter how terrible your anxiety makes you feel, no harm will come to you if you find the strength to push through it.
Reaching for the handle, I inhale sharply as I recognise a face at the back of the café. Neatly folding a newspaper, Ruby wipes her hands on a napkin before picking up a menu. I consider asking to sit with her when something stops me. Maybe it would be inappropriate. Isn’t that the whole point of Anxiety Anonymous, that no one knows you attend the meeting outside of the group?
Convincing myself to walk away, I’m about to leave when Ruby lifts her head and looks directly at me. Slowly raising her hand, she smiles and gives me a wave. Instinctively waving back, I feel my heart start to race as she beckons me inside. The sound of coffee machines being fired up fills the air as I weave through the tables, incredibly nervous about what I should say. This girl is one of the only people in the world who knows what I’m going through and not only that, she is going through the same thing herself. It’s like we have a secret, a sad secret, but a secret nonetheless.
‘Hi…’ I say cautiously, coming to a stop at her table. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m good…’ She narrows her eyes and I remember that I haven’t told her my name.
‘Sadie.’ I fill in for her, slightly embarrassed that a teenager has more manners than I do. ‘Sadie Valentine.’
‘Cool name!’ Ruby smiles back at me and pulls out the chair next to her. ‘Are you eating?’ She asks, handing over a laminated menu.
Taking this as my cue to sit down, I remove my scarf and perch on the edge of the seat. ‘I think I’ll just get a coffee. I’m not that hungry today.’
‘Anxiety rearing its ugly head?’ She asks knowingly, twirling a beaded bracelet around her wrist. ‘You should eat through it. Every time you let anxiety stop you from doing something that you would usually do, you’re feeding it.’
‘Feeding it?’ I repeat, as an image of a dark creature tucking into a hamburger pops into my mind.
‘You’re making it stronger, more powerful. Think of anxiety as an actual person, like a living thing that you can name.’ Ruby leans forward in her seat and lowers her voice to a whisper. ‘Mine’s Frank.’
‘Frank?’ I repeat, trying hard not to laugh. ‘Why Frank?’
‘I don’t know…’ She giggles and runs her fingers through her hair. ‘Giving it a name makes it easier to keep under control. I mean, you can’t reason with nothingness, can you? Since naming it, whenever I feel a panic attack coming on or I have a bad day, I talk to it.’
‘You talk to it?’ I gasp, completely bewildered.
Not being fazed by my reaction, Ruby nods in response. ‘If my anxiety makes me feel like I don’t want to get out of bed in the morning, I’m like… Not today, Frank. Not today. You should name yours, too. Let’s call it… Ann.’
I let out a snort as a waitress walks past and shoots us a funny look.
‘You think I’m crazy, don’t you?’ Ruby laughs and drums her fingers on the table. ‘But then again you do attend the meetings, so I’m going to take a stab in the dark and say we’re all mad here.’
I laugh along with her, but I can’t help feeling a little confused at how different she seems today. At the Anxiety Anonymous meeting, she seemed so fragile, so afraid and so downtrodden. This girl sat in front of me seems like a different person entirely. I guess dealing with anxiety really is like a rollercoaster ride. One day you’re up, the next you’re down.
‘You’re staring at me…’ Ruby whispers, trailing off as a waitress stops by our table. ‘I’ll have a double fudge hot chocolate with whipped cream and extra marshmallows.’ She passes the waitress the menu and looks at me expectantly.
‘I’ll take the same.’ I mumble, instantly regretting it.
With a quick scribble on her pad, the waitress removes our cutlery and dashes off to another table.
‘So, why were you staring at me?’ Ruby demands, puckering her lips as she waits for me to answer. ‘My lip ring hasn’t come out, has it?’
‘No, your lip ring is fine.’ I stammer, kicking myself under the table. ‘I was just thinking how much happier you seem today…’
Ruby’s face falls and she raises her eyebrows. ‘Well, today is a good day. Yesterday was a different story entirely…’
‘Do you normally have ups and downs?’ The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them and I immediately worry I’ve overstepped the mark.
‘Thankfully, I have more good days than bad, but I’m beginning to realise I will never be completely free of my anxiety.’ She twists a strand of her hair around her finger and looks lost in thought. ‘How long have you been a sufferer?’
‘Not that long. A couple of months, maybe?’
Ruby widens her eyes and rests her elbows on the table. ‘So, this is all new to you?’
‘I guess it is, yes.’ I am about to change the subject when a thought hits me. ‘What about you? How long have you been a sufferer?’
Exhaling loudly, Ruby looks around the room and shrugs. ‘I don’t think there was a certain point where it started. I just think this is who I am. Even as a little girl I was such a worrywart. I would get myself into a right state about homework and my parents arguing. Even being a few minutes late for school would send me into a blind panic.’
<
br /> I offer her a sad smile and look down at my tattoo. I feel like such a charlatan. Ruby has struggled with anxiety all her life and I’m piggybacking on her same symptoms because of little more than a breakup.
‘There are no rules with anxiety. Some suffer continuously and others are hit with random bouts.’ Ruby crosses her legs and wipes a few crumbs from the table. ‘Just because you caught a cold last week, doesn’t mean you won’t catch another tomorrow.’
‘You seem very open to talking about this.’ I muse, becoming completely engrossed in the conversion. ‘To be honest, I feel a little embarrassed.’
‘Why?’ She retorts immediately. ‘Would you be embarrassed about a headache or a broken leg?’
‘No?’ I whisper, a little taken aback by her reaction.
She gives me a look that makes me want to giggle as the waitress returns with two ginormous glasses. With chocolate flakes sticking out of the top and pink marshmallows resting on the mountain of cream, they look more like a challenge than a drink.
‘Enjoy!’ The waitress hands us a couple of dessert spoons and scuttles into the kitchen.
Weighing up the huge glass in front of me, I twirl around the spoon and wonder where to start. Clearly not having the same struggle, Ruby plucks a flake with her fingers and scoops up a dollop of cream.
‘If you don’t eat that, it’s one-nil to Ann.’ She motions to the spoon in my hand and polishes off the flake. ‘Are you a winner or a loser?’
‘I don’t really know who I am anymore…’
‘Yes, you do. You’re Sadie Valentine. You’re the same person you’ve always been, you’re just having a blip.’ Ruby shoves some marshmallows into her mouth and reaches for a napkin.
Smiling back at her, I reluctantly dive into the cloud of cream. Due to the fact I haven’t eaten properly in such a long time, my stomach has shrunk to the size of a pea and eating anything at all is a mammoth effort.
‘Do you use the Anxiety Anonymous forum?’ I ask, licking a spot of cream from my lip. ‘I’ve found it really beneficial.’
Ruby nods and puts down her spoon. ‘I do and it helps me a lot, but when I’m having a really bad day, nothing will drag me out of it. I just have to tell myself, this too shall pass. Those four little words have helped me more than you will ever know.’
I repeat the phrase in my head and feel a prong of hope. This too shall pass.
‘Everything has to come to an end. That’s just life.’ Ruby points at my chocolate flake and grins. ‘Are you eating that?’
Shaking my head, I offer her the flake and pour myself a glass of water from the jug on the table. ‘Have you tried any other treatments for your anxiety?’
‘Like what?’ She asks, dipping the flake into her mug and taking a bite. ‘Medication?’
I give her a nod and adjust the strap on my watch. ‘Please tell me if my questions are inappropriate. I completely understand if you don’t want to talk about it.’
‘Talking is good.’ Ruby’s phone pings and she gives it a quick glance before dropping it into her handbag.
‘People keep telling me that…’ I mumble, remembering my conversation with Aldo.
‘And you don’t believe them?’
I shake my head and sigh. ‘Talking about it seems to make it real and I don’t want it to be real.’
‘But it is real!’ Ruby exclaims, finally abandoning her hot chocolate. ‘Just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean it isn’t there.’ She pauses for breath and rests her elbows on the table. ‘Try it. Come on, talk to me.’
I squirm in my seat and try to think of an excuse to leave. Having just been through this with Aldo, I really don’t want to relive it again.
‘Trust me…’ Ruby places her hand on my arm and I know I can’t refuse.
‘I honestly don’t know what to say. My relationship ended and things just seemed to get worse from there.’ Ruby doesn’t breathe a word, so I carry on talking. ‘Some days I feel frightened and sad, others I’m just empty. It’s like nothing matters to me anymore. I just want to hide away and be alone.’ I look down at the table and shrug my shoulders. ‘I guess the reluctance to leave the house is more down to the panic attacks than anything else. I’ve never experienced anything quite like it. The thought of it happening again is just petrifying. Attending the meeting yesterday made me realise I’m not alone, but learning you’re still struggling after a year of sessions makes me feel apprehensive. I guess kicking this thing is going to be more of a marathon than a sprint…’
I trail off as I realise Ruby is smiling manically at me.
‘Do you even realise you’ve just answered all of your questions yourself?’ Her eyes glisten as she clasps her hands together proudly.
‘There’s no shame in being vocal about your feelings, Sadie, and there’s no shame in being afraid…’
Chapter 23
‘I’m not doing it.’ Aldo shakes his head and puffs on his cigarette. ‘Sorry, but it’s not going to happen.’
‘Why not? You’ve been itching to get your hands on my hair for years.’ I beg, following him around the balcony like a lost puppy. ‘Please?’
‘Nope.’ He stretches out on one of the loungers and grabs the ashtray.
‘Oh, come on!’ Not willing to give up so easily, I take a seat next to him and rest my head on his shoulder. ‘You’re a bloody hairdresser and you’re refusing to cut my hair!’
Blowing smoke rings into the air, Aldo chooses to ignore me completely.
‘Fine. If you won’t do it, I shall do it myself.’ Jumping to my feet, I march across the balcony and throw open the doors. ‘What do you recommend I use, kitchen scissors or textile shears?’
‘For God’s sake!’ Aldo yells, stubbing out his cigarette and swearing under his breath. ‘Just wait a minute!’
Stopping in my tracks, I hover my hand over the stand of utensils.
‘If you’re sure this is what you want, I’ll do it.’ He says hesitantly, taking the scissors and placing them out of my reach. ‘I just don’t want you to regret it when you’re feeling better.’
‘I am feeling better.’ I exclaim, jumping up and down on the spot excitedly. ‘I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t a hundred percent sure it was what I wanted.’
Reluctantly nodding, Aldo exhales loudly and signals for me to calm down. ‘Just tell me why it has to be right now. Why can’t you sleep on it and see how you feel tomorrow?’
Pulling out my bobble, I let my hair fall around my shoulders. ‘It just represents a time where I was so unhappy. I feel like I’m about to embrace a new chapter in my life and this seems the perfect way of marking it.’
Aldo looks at me uncertainly and frowns. ‘I get that, I totally get it. My concern is that you’re going to relapse and regret it. It would take ten years to get that length back. It wasn’t long ago that you were rock bottom, who knows how you’re going to feel tomorrow?’
Butterflies flutter in my stomach and I have to admit he has got a point. ‘No one knows what tomorrow holds. I guess you’ll just have to trust me on this.’
Rubbing his temples, Aldo doesn’t say a word as he grabs his work bag from the front door. My heart pounds as he pulls out a cape and motions to the kitchen. A rush of adrenaline runs through me as I take a chair from the dining table and place it in the centre of the tiles.
Fastening the cape, Aldo wets my hair and carefully brushes out every last knot before picking up a pair of scissors. My skin prickles as he gently pushes down my head and makes the first snip. A blonde lock of hair tumbles to the ground and I watch in awe as it hits the marble floor. Bending down, I carefully pick it up and turn it over in my hands.
‘More…’ I whisper, letting it fall through my fingers. ‘Much more.’
‘But that’s already twelve inches.’ Aldo holds a mirror behind my head to show me the length. ‘Any shorter and you won’t be able to do much with it.’
‘I don’t care.’ I tap my shoulders and smile up at him. ‘Take it to here.’<
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Holding my gaze for a moment too long, he takes the scissors to my hair once more. My shoulders feel looser with every strand of hair that floats past my face. Each snip feels like a huge release as I relax my body and listen to the rhythmical sound of the blades crossing one another. Keeping my eyes fixed on the ground, I watch the blonde pile slowly grow into a mountain of cuttings.
I have always clung on to my blanket-like hair, convinced it shielded me from the rest of the world. If these past few months have taught me anything, it’s that absolutely nothing can keep you safe from yourself. Once the monster inside hits that self-destruct button, no magic potion, no mythical mane of hair and no pills can save you, until you choose to save yourself.
Aldo runs his fingers through my hair before sectioning off the crown and fluffing up the rest. The snip of the scissors is like therapy and I allow myself to revel in the moment. When I finally open my eyes, I blink repeatedly to get my eyes to focus. Looking down at my chest, I smile as I realise I can no longer see my hair.
Reaching up to touch it, I yelp as Aldo bats away my hands. ‘I’m not finished!’ He growls, rummaging around in his work bag and producing various hair products.
After smoothing a selection of different serums through my now shoulder-length hair, he plugs in his trusty hairdryer and gets to work. The heat burns my neck slightly as Aldo picks up a brush and does what he does best. I sneak a peek at him and smile to myself as I watch him work. His face is taught with concentration as he manipulates my hair into the style he desires.
‘Alright…’ With a final spritz of hairspray, Aldo stands back to admire his handiwork. ‘What do you think?’
Spinning around to face the mirror, I let out a squeal as I take in my reflection. I don’t even recognise myself. How can something as simple as a haircut transform your entire appearance? The long bob makes my hair look thicker, healthier and shinier than it ever has before. My eyes seem brighter, my teeth seem whiter, even my skin looks better now it isn’t hidden beneath the greying shadows of my hair.