by Kayla Krantz
“O-okay,” I say.
And I’m glad when he rounds the corner of the first aisle and disappears from my sight. I use the opportunity to collapse to my knees and organize the lighters all over again, waiting for the anxious tremors to go away. Just as I push the last lighter into place, I hear footsteps and look up to see Blaine again, only this time he’s cloaked in his work uniform rather than street clothes. The hat is gone, revealing messy black locks.
He casts a quick glance across the aisle to where Camilla’s blonde hair is visible among the chips before looking at me once more. “Are you training with her again today?”
I blink up at him, the thought of spending the day with him paralyzing. “As far as I know, yeah.”
He tips his head to the side and grins. “That’s too bad. It’s lonely on this side of the store,” he says and glances at the register beside us.
“It’s lonely over there too,” I say honestly, thinking of the lack of real connection between me and Camilla.
Blaine’s eyes light with humor, and I smack a hand over my mouth as I realize I said that out loud. He leans closer to me and whispers, “We’ll both survive somehow.”
“Some way,” I reply.
He smiles again and walks to his register. “I gotta get things set up,” he says, though I’m unsure if it’s to me, to Camilla, or to himself.
“Oh yeah, cool,” I say in the off chance it was to me.
He doesn’t reply, and my cheeks burn at the thought that he wasn’t talking to me after all. Nothing cool about that, I chastise myself.
Camilla catches my eye across the store and gestures me back over to her register. I don’t look at Blaine as I approach her. She smiles, eyes volleying between me and him. “What did he say to you?” she asks.
I shrug. “Nothing really. Just complimented me on the lighters.”
She narrows her eyes, trying to better see the rack of lighters, or I assume she is anyway. Just then a customer begins to approach, and she turns her attention back to me. “You did a good job. Let’s go through a quick refresher of how to run the register again.”
I’m quiet as I help her bag, listening as she retells me the exact same information she had already shoved down my throat yesterday, and before I know it, half the shift has passed. Glancing over my shoulder at Blaine every few minutes gains no results, and I feel on the verge of crying out for how pathetic the whole thing is. I know that a logical person would talk to someone they were potentially interested in, but I know that even if I did, it wouldn’t amount to anything when he found out how I really am. Yet, even with those thoughts in my head, I can’t stop myself from periodically checking to see if he’s looking at me.
This time, my eyes scan across the lighter display, and even from the other side of the front end, I can see that just one lighter is out of place—upside down so that its bottom lines up with the tops of the others. Cursing under my breath, I leave the comfort of the register’s tiny box to fix it.
“Hey, don’t worry about it. It’s fine!” Camilla calls out, but it’s not.
I don’t know how to explain that it isn’t fine if it’s not perfect. I can’t explain to her the way it makes me feel to see just this one lighter’s defiance. I hear the beeping as she goes to work, scanning her next customer’s items, and I take the opportunity to fix the display. I turn on my heels, ready to call an apology to Camilla now that my compulsions have been subdued when I catch sight of Blaine snickering wickedly at my little display of OCD at its finest.
6.
FRUSTRATION WELLS IN me, and I want to cry as I back away from the thing of lighters, but somehow, I don’t. I just stand there, watching him laugh and trying to not let the moment cut me down completely. No part of this is funny, and I try to be rational—maybe he isn’t even laughing at me at all and just has the worst timing in the world—but I’m paranoid and take offense to it anyway. Using my hair to shadow my face, I turn away from him and pad back over to Camilla. Thankfully, she had been too wrapped up with her customer to notice the latest interaction between me and Blaine.
I choose to say nothing and eagerly get on the register the next time she offers. It’s an escape from the pain in myself, at least for a little while, and after the encounter, I found that I’m not sneaking glances at him. I’m just trying to make it through the day. An hour later, I get to clock out, grateful that I wasn’t scheduled to close like I had been yesterday. I take off the apron and put on my jacket, dashing out the door without a single goodbye to Camilla or Blaine.
I hurry to my car and sit in the driver seat, staring at my red-rimmed eyes in the rearview mirror. It’s a miracle that no one called me out on it. With shuddering breath, I feel the hurt all the way home, and I wish I could make it disappear. I drive the long way home, through the block where all my favorite comforts lie and stare at the church as I pass.
There are times where I desperately long for support group, when I need be surrounded by like-minded people, but luck is never in my favor. I pull into the parking lot and pull out my cell phone, staring at Destiny’s number in particular. She encourages all of us to call at any time of the day if we need her, and I do, but I can’t bring myself to push the call button. I’m supposed to be strong, I think and glance at the passenger seat where Kara’s rose and note are still sitting.
Calling Destiny feels like I’m turning my back on all the work I’ve put into myself since getting the interview for this job. I compose myself and tuck my cell phone away, starting my car back up to drive the rest of the way home. I hurry inside, turning on the tea pot, and drag myself to my kitchen table. I plop down with my sketchbook and box of colored pencils, coloring carefully to recreate the rainbows in my painting, but I fail.
Sighing, I get up to get a scalding cup of tea. The pain of the liquid scorching down my throat is welcome as I sit down and attempt to draw again. All that comes out are the clouds in my mind.
***
I GO TO bed a lot sooner than I typically would, and when I wake up, I almost think it’s the middle of the night still because it’s so dark inside my house. A crack in the blinds of my window shows the snowstorm raging outside and for a moment, the thought makes me smile. At least the clouds aren’t just in my head anymore.
The depression from the previous day is at the front of my mind as soon as I open my eyes to stare at my perfectly-centered light and a tiny voice scolds me. Why am I doing this? Locking myself away and letting the pain get to me? I’m letting myself drown in self-pity, I know that, but all I can think about is how I’ll never be normal. I know part of me just wants to hear that I’m wrong, that eventually, I’ll be able to get over my issues, that I can get through my ridiculousness and others can too.
I need someone to tell me that there’s nothing wrong with me, but I doubt that even hearing those exact words would help me much in this mood. I would probably assume the speaker to be using sarcasm.
I’m trapped in my own mind.
I want to see Kara today, but I’m glad for the storm, glad that we won’t be doing anything outside—Kara would have to be mental to still want to do anything of the sort—but if I know her well enough, and unfortunately, I do, she is that crazy. I roll over and check my phone, no calls or texts, but that’s nothing new. Before I even get out of bed, I call her.
“What’s the game plan?” I ask as soon as she answers.
“No stroll around the park,” she resolves, and I hear the pout. “No, instead we’re gonna hit the town.”
“Really?” I ask, chuckling, and I’m glad she had a plan B in check. Never before have I craved friendship so strongly. “Hopefully somewhere with lots of alcohol.”
Now it’s Kara’s turn to laugh. “Cheers to that. Get dressed, and we’ll still have an awesome day, you’ll see.”
Despite not really wanting to go out when I can stay here and sleep, I force myself to get up and do exactly as she says. If I let myself listen to the voice in my head, it will continually drag me
down. I’ve learned from experience it’s better to listen to Kara, and besides, it’ll be good for me to be distracted from myself for a while. If Kara is good at anything, it’s bringing life to the dead.
Kara reaches my house just as I finish putting my face together, even though she lives on the other side of town, and I’m impressed. She can be a real speed demon when she wants to be. I rush to open the door, and Kara appears bright and sparkly and well…Kara. She’s wearing another pink shirt, this one covered with a glittery, sparkling butterfly. I’ve always preferred moths to butterflies. They aren’t flashy or cocky; they mind their own business and just try to blend in with their surroundings and live their lives. They don’t want to be seen, and that’s something I can relate to.
I am the moth to Kara’s butterfly.
“Surely that’s not what you’re wearing!” she exclaims, putting her hands on her hips as she frowns at my pajamas.
I shake my head. “Of course not. I haven’t had a chance to get dressed yet.”
“Wonderful,” she says and hands me a bag. “Here you go.”
I blink, tilting my head to the side. “More clothes?”
Her eyes brighten. “Yes, more clothes!”
“How much does that bring my total up to now? One hundred dollars? Two?”
She waves her hand. “Zero. Now go try it on.”
I want to argue, but I also don’t want her to start trying to dress me herself, so I turn to go the bathroom before I open the bag and see what she’s brought me today. I’m relieved to see a pair of jeans, a simple white shirt, and a plaid button down top. These are my style. I clutch them tight to my chest, feeling the tears bubble in the corners of my eyes.
It’s as if she could tell how much I needed a friend. I put the clothes on, feeling them hug my skin, and take them off to straighten them before pulling them back onto my body. I take them off for the last time and straighten out a few remaining bulges before pulling them on again and going out to the living room to where Kara is waiting.
She stands up, smiling as she catches sight of me. “Do a turn so I can see all of it.”
I obey and spin slowly.
Kara gives me a thumbs up, and I feel my hardened face melt into a smile. I’m so grateful to have her, someone to sympathize with me, who knows I’m not right but loves me anyway. She protects me and goes out of her way for me like the sister I never had.
We climb into her car, and I stare at her, waiting for her to clue me in on the plan for today.
“I’m thinking tequila and Mexican food,” she replies.
I tilt my head to the side. “It’s noon.”
“That means nothing to me,” she says calmly though there’s a crazy smile on her face as she starts the engine.
I smile back and relax against my seat. “Yes, ma’am. You’re the boss.”
“So glad you agree. It would’ve been lame if I would’ve had to kidnap my best friend.”
“Nope. I’m fully yours to take,” I reply, and she speeds off.
I grip into the chair like I’m on a rollercoaster ride. She’s the only person I know who can floor it in a residential neighborhood and never get pulled over. All my reservations, I keep to myself.
She’s true to her word about it still being a good day. We go out to eat, have some drinks, and laugh. For just a while, I forget about who I am and my issues…until Kara decides she needs to pick something up from my newest place of employment ,and the entire scene from the day before crashes down on me once again.
Sitting in the parking lot, I can nearly hear Blaine’s laughter in the back of my head. Kara smiles at me, oblivious. She has no idea about yesterday’s incident because I had made sure to not tell her. Sometimes, I feel it makes our friendship easier to maintain when I hold onto stories about my episodes…especially when those stories involve boys.
“Come on,” Kara urges me out of the car, and despite my thoughts, I follow her inside the store with my eyes squeezed shut.
I am a glutton for punishment.
Kara says nothing as we walk by the registers, but she doesn’t have to. I can tell by how slowly she walks that he’s here, and I peek just long enough to confirm I’m right. Camilla is here too, but I doubt Kara has even taken notice of her.
My best friend is in the lead as we finally turn down an aisle, putting the registers out of view. She maneuvers through the store until we find the snack aisle. Wobbling slightly with the tipsy effect of our drinks, she grabs an armful of chips and looks at me with a frown. When she sees the basket dangling from my fingertips, her face mashes into a smile. I already know she didn’t have things planned out this far ahead.
Maybe she’s drunker than I thought.
“Geez, think that’ll be enough?” I say with a laugh as I feel the weight of the basket increase drastically.
“You never know,” she says, and we make our way back to the front.
Kara is again in the lead and picks a line before I can protest, so I don’t. It’s Blaine’s line, if I know Kara, so I try to distract myself from the upcoming encounter by looking at the covers of the magazines in the rack beside us, trying without success to convince myself that it doesn’t matter who’s line we’re actually in.
What if he laughs at you again? a tiny voice asks.
He has nothing to laugh at, I inform it.
Didn’t stop him before.
I grit my teeth, unable to think of a rational thought to combat that one.
“What does that even mean…King’s size?” Kara’s voice cuts into my head as she scoffs, tossing down a candy bar on the shelf with a thump.
It’s almost as if I can hear it scream when it lands in a place clearly not meant for it. Frowning, I snatch it up and rush to put it back in place, eyes on Kara the entire time.
Kara laughs, and I flinch at the sound, mentally comparing it to Blaine’s. “You’re something else, girl…you know that?”
Most of the time, she knows better than to do something like that when she’s with me, but there are also times when she does it on purpose to push me to the limit. I wonder which of the two options this incident happens to fall under. I shrug and look away, not wanting to feel hurt, but I do anyway. That’s one way to say it, I suppose. My eyes catch sight of the lighter display at the end of the magazine rack, and although they are arranged in the right color order, the tops face the opposite way than I prefer, and I feel that wiggle of discomfort in the pit of my stomach again.
“Speaking of something else,” Kara says, waggling her eyebrows as we near the front of the line, but I’m only half paying attention. I already guessed it was Blaine’s line, that she set me up again, but it’s fine because all I can focus on are the lighters.
“Give me the basket,” she urges, and I realize Blaine’s waiting on us.
When my eyes meet his, he smiles at me. “Hello, Erica.”
“I thought you said you organize them the same way as me,” I accuse and slam the basket onto the conveyer belt, laying into him without bothering to return his hello.
“I do,” he says, small smile on his face that I can tell comes from surprise as he begins to take each item out. Instead of scanning them as he picks them out, he sets them in various piles around his register. “Just with my own flair to it.”
I shake my head, ruffling my hair and glare at the display over my shoulder as he begins to scan the items. It’s like I can hear the lighters calling out to me, mocking me even. “This will never do,” I say, stomping over to the rack to forcefully shove the lighters back into place. The beeping sounds of scanning stop as he pauses to watch me, and I wonder if he’ll laugh again.
“Girl, really?” Kara asks, raising her eyebrows before her eyes gesture to Blaine.
I’ve gotten really good at reading Kara’s face over the years. and I know what that expression means. It’s disappointment. Here she is trying to find me a perfect boyfriend, yet I can’t keep my neuroses in check long enough to keep them from running away. I ca
n’t bring myself to care. If a guy runs from something as small as this, they are in no way, shape, or form able to handle me anyway.
“You know you don’t have to work today, right?” Blaine asks, tapping his fingers on his register as he scans the last item.
I only acknowledge him after the work is done. “Ta-da,” I say, gesturing to it with a sideways look to Blaine. “This is the way they should be.”
Blaine smiles, and I wait for the laugh, surprised when it doesn’t come. His eyes are sparkling in amusement, but there’s no bad feeling in my gut to accompany it.
Brain, what does this mean?
Kara shakes her head and pays. “I apologize for my friend,” she says but doesn’t meet my eyes as the words leave her lips. It’s like she’s suddenly embarrassed to be seen out in public with me.
“Nothing to apologize for,” Blaine assures her then to me, “Well, I’ll see you later.” Then, he’s onto the next customer in his line.
Kara is icily silent as we walk to the door but as soon as we make it to the parking lot, she asks, “What just happened?”
I look at her, waiting for her to continue. I have no idea which social boundary I’ve breached this time, but I’m sure she’s more than happy to tell me. I can nearly feel my insides shriveling in disappointment at her tone. The day has been wonderful up to this point…so how had it come to this?
“You have a hot guy trying to talk to you, and you practically blow him off for some lighters?” Her words don’t hurt as much as her overall skepticism does.
I stiffen at the venom in her tone—she may be my best friend, but she doesn’t get me. She’s never gone to support group—never had to—but ultimately, I wish she would take it upon herself as my best friend to do so, at least once. Just so she could see that there are others like me, that I don’t choose to be like this. She’s never said it out loud, but I know that part of her thinks I can just get over my compulsions if I really try, but I know from experience that I can’t. I’m a broken person, maybe unfixable. Sometimes, I think about it from her point of view, and I can’t really blame her for getting upset. It must be a bummer to have a bubbly personality like she does but a rock of a friend like me always around to constantly weigh her down.