by Lauren Dow
She sang the words at the top of her lungs, making up the ones she didn’t know despite how many years she’d been listening to the song on repeat. It lifted her higher and higher as the trumpets progressed.
Amelia stuck her arm out of the window and felt the wind twine through her fingers. The simple act of driving could change her entire attitude. It was a tool she’d forgotten about and was finally dusting off.
A few minutes later, she turned onto 14th Street and pulled into her garage. She turned off the ignition and sat with her keys in her hands.
Amelia had a choice. She could walk upstairs to wallow and let the debilitation kick in, or she could make one small decision to keep moving forward.
Talking to Emmett was the next right move for her. Despite their argument, she didn’t want to leave their friendship on bad terms and have their fight be the last time they spoke. She wanted to clear the air, even if it still resulted in the two of them going their separate ways.
She wondered if his Amelia senses were tingling and if he would reach out to her. But that was her entire life, never taking action and always hoping for something to happen. She picked up her phone and made the next move. One text was all she needed to see if he wanted anything to do with her or not.
AMELIA: Hey, are you busy?
She waited patiently for her phone to vibrate with his response, but there was nothing. She couldn’t be disappointed because that would have meant she had expectations, and she reminded herself that there was no need for that kind of pressure.
Amelia finally got out of the car and went upstairs to be reunited with Luna. She opened the front door to find Tuna Bean directly in front of the entrance and wiggling her entire body. She barked a song of love. Amelia dropped to the floor and grabbed a hold of the puppy’s relentless body. Luna leaped up and wrapped her paws around Amelia’s neck like a human. It was hard to see the extraordinary and simplistic joys in life when the cloud of depression obstructed the view. Amelia’s cloud was dissipating, and her vision was clearing.
Amelia’s phone vibrated in her back pocket. It was Emmett.
EMMETT: Sorry, I was napping.
Of course he was. In her very short time knowing him, she’d learned he was a big proponent of frequent, twenty-minute cat naps. Amelia texted back so she wouldn’t lose his attention.
AMELIA: I know things have been weird, but would you like to talk?
EMMETT: Ya, that would be nice.
Amelia decided it was best to leave Luna at home so she could give her undivided attention to Emmett. Even though Luna provided her emotional support, this was a battle Amelia needed to fight on her own. She walked downstairs and saw him waiting on the stoop lighting a cigarette. Amelia hesitantly walked towards the stairs and sat down on a step below him, keeping a few feet of distance between them. They skipped their usual warm embrace.
“I went to my group therapy today.” Amelia wasn’t going to waste any time basking in awkward silence.
“I wish they had a group for people like me, but that might be a fire hazard.” Even though they were fighting, Emmett still managed to come through with a joke.
“Ya, I thought about you a lot actually.” The silence lingered; clearly Emmett didn’t know what to say, which seemed unusual for him, even in uncomfortable circumstances. “Are you okay with”—Amelia pointed her index finger back and forth between her and Emmett—“well, with this?”
“No. I mean yes, it’s fine. It’s not like I have a lot going on right now, anyways. I’ve just been sketching ideas for a character in the book I’m working on.” Emmett showed her a drawing of a monster wearing high heels and a torso made of a clawfoot bathtub.
“And you can draw, too? What can’t you do?”
“Can we not pretend to have a normal conversation?” Emmett was right. Amelia needed to muster the courage to face her fears.
“Fair enough.” Amelia rubbed both of her ear lobes, took a deep breath, and looked directly into Emmett’s eyes despite how uncomfortable it made her. “I couldn’t stop thinking about what you told me. About dancing with your demons and survival days and all of the amazing things you’ve shared with me and have let me share with you. I know that you feel a certain way about me, and when I’m ready to date again, I will. But I don’t want to lead you on to think that you and I will be together.”
It was empowering to stand up for herself, for her wants and her needs, even if it meant that she had to hurt someone else’s feelings in the process. Emmett had a discouraged disposition about him, but he shrugged his shoulders in his cartoon-esque way and said the words Amelia needed to hear.
“I can handle you being with someone else. What I can’t handle is the silence.”
Amelia was relieved. With one sentence Emmett was able to explain that he’d rather Amelia be upfront with him instead of her usual cold silence of submission.
“Question for you: When you made it out, when you finally felt like you had control over your mental illness, did you know it? Or did it just happen?” Amelia looked down at her feet as she posed the question.
Emmett rolled another cigarette between his tar-stained fingers. His nails were bitten down to nubs.
“There wasn’t an exact moment, partly because I’m not out of the woods. I feel like I have a handle on it now, more so than I have in the past. But it doesn’t mean that I don’t have hard days. The demons still come out, my walls still turn into worms occasionally, and I find myself to be sad more often than not.” He took a drag of his cigarette.
“But what I do know is that I’m finally at a place of independence. I don’t rely on my disease to carry me through life because it’s familiar or comfortable. I can be on my own and be content with that because I love who I am.”
“I just don’t know if I can do that, not on my own.”
“Amelia, things are never going to be easy. You know that, right? You know that this is something you’ll live with for the rest of your life. You’ll go in and out of various coping mechanisms and you’ll find yourself at the bottom of the barrel a dozen times more. But that doesn’t mean you can’t always get yourself out of that barrel. Because you’ll have done it eleven times before that, and each time you’ll be stronger than the last.
“It’s like making art. You’re the only authority when it comes to creating something. But release it into the world and every person who comes across it is going to misunderstand or reinterpret it. But it’s a beautiful mess of a creation that only you could have created. Just like your disorders, just like you. You wouldn’t throw these things away because they’ve made you who you are. It’s a matter of what you do with them and what you allow them to mean to you.”
As always, Emmett knew the right thing to say, even when they weren’t on good terms. And he was right, which made her slightly sad and afraid.
“Can I be honest about something?” Amelia was on a roll and wanted to be true, down to her core, about what she was thinking and feeling, even if it wasn’t what he wanted to hear. She had to put herself first.
“If you haven’t learned by now, I wouldn’t want it any other way,” Emmett responded.
“As much as I would love for us to mend whatever transpired this week, I don’t know if I can keep this friendship. At least not right now.”
“Can I ask why?”
Amelia searched for another cigarette to give her something to do with her hands. “Because…because you’re right. I need to do this for myself, only I can save myself. I think I’ve been using you as a crutch, which pains me to say because I’m hurting you and acknowledging a hugely shitty piece of myself. Even before I met you, I told myself that you were my guardian angel who always had my back when I wasn’t looking.”
A hot flash swam through Amelia’s body. The remaining traces of alcohol oozed from her clammy skin. She refused to stop the flow of honesty. She just hoped Emmett couldn’t smell the alcohol that was burning through her clothes.
Amelia continued before sh
e lost her courage, “I was drawn to you for whatever reason. To your energy, to some kind of great, divine, imaginary intervention. Regardless, I clung to you. And once you became tangible, I didn’t want to let you go. You reminded me what it’s like to laugh—like genuinely laugh. You reminded me that there are still amazing humans on this planet. But you also reminded me of the work I still need to do. Work that I need to do alone.”
There was another bout of silence.
“I guess you could say that you are a vice I need to stop abusing as a coping mechanism.”
She waited patiently for him to say something to reaffirm that what she said wasn’t a total mistake.
“Well,”—Emmett blew smoke up towards the sky—“you should know, there are significant withdrawal symptoms for the first two weeks, but I’m sure you’ll manage.”
She couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, but as a smile began to spread beneath his rectangular black frames, she knew; he understood.
“I’ve been there, Amelia, and I get it. You might not think that’s true, but I do. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt a little, though.” Emmett stood up from his throne. “I think I’m gonna get going. I need to decompress from everything.”
“Sounds like a great plan,” Amelia responded in an empathetic tone.
“I just want you to know one thing before we part ways. I want you to be happy. That’s all. Let yourself do what you need to do to get out of this damn hole. Go find yourself someone who will treat you the way you deserve. Life isn’t meant to be experienced alone.”
Amelia smiled and started to walk away.
“One last thing: To aspire is to strive towards a goal. To aspirate is to breathe. Breathing is just striving towards life.” Emmett never was short for words.
Breathing is just striving towards life.
She thought about what song would play in the background of her life at that moment. Something fun that would make her want to dance, something that would make her feel free. She walked through her apartment door and crouched down to pet Luna, who wiggled with enthusiasm after having been left alone a total of twenty minutes. Amelia could tell she was feeling much better after her own confrontation with an unfriendly beast of a dog.
She walked over to her record player and put on “Jump In The Line” by Harry Belafonte, another one of her favorites.
Striving towards life…
She swayed back and forth to the rhythm so as to not overdo it. For once she was listening to what her body needed, which was not to be thrown around in elaborate dance moves. She closed her eyes and pretended to see them, this perfect stranger who would one day complement her life, not over fill it. She pretended to embrace this figment of a person.
Maybe it was possible this human existed somewhere in the universe. She carefully danced around the living room with her imaginary partner. This person wouldn’t change her or add something that was missing because Amelia wasn’t incomplete and there wasn’t anything to add. Alone, she’d be strong like a fort. Together they’d be an army, protected and safe from all of the world’s problems. They’d encourage her to write or listen to her favorite music again, to laugh until she cried or cried until she laughed, to do whatever made her heart content. As long as she was happy, they’d support her.
Amelia continued down into her daydream, only this time it was a memory yet to come.
They lived in a brick house, tucked away in a remote corner of the world. Vines cascaded down the bamboo fence and sounds of water trickling from a nearby fountain filled the air. Birds chirped and a group of squirrels created their home in the backyard. A hawk made a guest appearance followed by the sound of people passing by on their morning commutes. Tiny little paws burrowed their way into the dirt, creating a comfortable nook for Luna’s white, furry stomach.
Humidity lightly coated the air, just enough to remind her that, even on the driest of days, rain would come to replenish the Earth. Her mystery person walked over and hugged her. There was something about their energy that radiated a type of love that kept Amelia calm.
“I’ve got your back.” This person who spoke to her was a stranger, but Amelia felt like she knew them for years. “When you’re ready, I’m here. I love you.”
Before she had a chance to catch her breath, she awoke from her trance. Back to a reality where she was alone, only this time she was relieved. This fictitious person she’d conjured in her subconscious was the person Emmett alluded to. This was the person she knew she’d one day be with. But for now, she was perfectly content with the solitude.
Her only desire at that moment was to be the red velvet cake.
She’d given away a slice of her cake to every person who entered her life. But the last slice, that last sliver of sweetness that was left on the plate, was hers. The best part was, if she ever ran out, she had the recipe in her possession. She could make the cake over and over again, always refilling her fork with the next delectable bite until she was ready—just like in her daydream—until she found someone worthy to share it with. Until someone came into her life who found joy in the cake without any modifications.
Amelia started to believe there could be a future for herself. And the future tasted delicious.
Luna walked over to the front door and started to whine. With her energy levels back up, Amelia thought she should try and get Luna to walk out any last bit of pain that might be left in her bitten leg. The 16th Street Mall was one place she hadn’t explored yet since moving in. The sun was brutal, but the two girls needed to feel the embrace of its rays.
Of course, as soon as they reached the near end of the mall, about a ten-minute walk from the apartment, Amelia saw a raindrop fall onto the sidewalk. Then another. Then on her face. That was Amelia’s cue to turn around and try to avoid the oncoming and unexpected rain. Within seconds, hail the size of marbles began to fall from the sky, the pellets bouncing off of her skin. Amelia tugged at Luna’s leash to get her to start running. Amelia had on sandals that were worn too thin, not the optimal shoes for running down the busy sidewalks of Denver. Everyone around her was looking for cover. Amelia kept running and Luna frantically jumped around trying to eat the hail that was coming down.
About two minutes in, Amelia stopped. The soles of her feet were hurting and the running somehow seemed to make the hail feel worse. She was already soaking wet. She slowed down her pace and admitted defeat. The boy in the yellow swim shorts. A child who would never know the significant role he played in Amelia’s story.
This is my life.
She burst into laughter. For the first time, completely on her own and without the aid of intoxication to lubricate her mind, Amelia found laughter. Amelia found joy. Amelia was happy.
Chapter 14
Sunday, a day of rest.
Growing up, her parents would rally the troops for church every Sunday morning. This was followed by a trip to Dunkin’ Donuts for a dozen delicious treats as a reward if everyone sang their songs and were well behaved throughout mass. Another long-forgotten ritual.
A subtle hint of sunlight glowed through the bedroom window, gently waking her from a dream she couldn’t remember, but recalled being something wonderful. It was one of those dreams where she’d wake up with a smile stamped across her face for no other reason than a fictional story created in her subconscious that she already couldn’t recollect.
Amelia rolled over on her side to snuggle Luna, as per usual, but she wasn’t there. Amelia sat up and saw Luna waiting by her bedside, ready to conquer the day. No snuggles necessary.
She got up and performed her morning routine. Rinse. Wash. Repeat. Another Sunday, another day, another week ready to pass her by. As she was brushing her teeth, she looked down to see Luna playfully rolling around on her back.
But it doesn’t have to be just another Sunday, another day, or another week.
If Luna had taken the opportunity to change one tiny thing about her day by sitting at the foot of the bed, Amelia wanted to see if she could do the
same. To rewrite the narrative, as Miranda would say. Amelia decided to make one small change in her routine. She pulled open her dresser drawer and grabbed a pair of running shorts, a sports bra, a T-shirt, and socks. She slipped into every item like they were long-lost friends she hadn’t seen in a while.
There was a period of time when exercise transformed from being an extracurricular activity into orthorexia, a disorder that created her unhealthy relationship with exercise. She couldn’t just go for a casual jog or spend an hour at the gym. The more calories she consumed, the more she’d exercise to counterbalance what she ate, to burn more than devoured. It had been months since she last exercised, aside from her usual walks with Luna throughout the day. It was time for Amelia to go back to the thing she loved once upon a time.
Running was how Amelia managed to cope with her anxiety before the panic became an unmanageable problem. Her anxiety and depression only worsened when her doctor told her she needed to take a break from running and most other forms of exercise. The lack of control over what she could and couldn’t do with her body only exacerbated her anxiety. But she obeyed the doctor’s orders.
Amelia proceeded to look around her apartment. A random assortment of papers, notebooks, bags, and dirty clothes were scattered throughout. Piece by piece she picked everything up and put each item in its proper place.
Amelia hadn’t made her usual morning cup of coffee. She hadn’t gone for her cigarette on the balcony. She hadn’t sat down to try writing. Something was pushing at her from the inside of her soul, like a kinetic energy sending her forward.