The OCD Games

by Kayla Krantz

  He’s not asking about the link, I think and wonder again how to respond.

  Erica: Not much.

  I type it quickly and stare at it, hating how bland and simple it seems, how lifeless.

  Erica: You?

  Blaine: Same.

  Erica: Did you click on the link I sent? It’s for that website.

  Blaine: No, I haven’t. Hold on.

  Five minutes later, I receive no response from him. So much for that, I think dejectedly.

  A new message pops up then on my screen, causing my heart to lurch as badly as it had the first time Blaine messaged me.

  Kara: Girl, what are you up to?

  My heart crunches in disappointment as soon as I realize it isn’t him. Then, I raise an eyebrow. Is this a white flag to our petty feud?

  Erica: I talked to him.

  Kara: Him who? Your hot little cashier boy?

  I read the words but typed text is so cold, so flat, that I have no idea if she has an attitude or not.

  Erica: Yes, we actually get along quite well.

  Kara: So, how is he? ~wink~

  Erica: Not that well!

  Kara: Well, then it’s clearly not well enough.

  I laugh, positive that all our negative vibes are gone, and close the conversation, the petty little fight over as quickly as it had started without it ever even being acknowledged. There’s an unread message in my thread with Blaine when I pull it back up.

  Blaine: That’s wonderful information. Thank you.

  I bite my lip. Now he’s giving off a professional vibe, and I’m not sure how to answer.

  Erica: Anytime.

  I stare at the message for a long time before hitting send. It seems like a way to end the conversation, but I don’t want to push my luck and have him irritated with me by continuing a conversation he’s lost interest in.

  Nothing more pathetic than that.

  Blaine: So, what are your plans for the rest of the day?

  Now I’m clueless. That’s not what I had expected, not at all.

  Erica: Just hanging around the house.

  Blaine: Good deal, me too.

  Erica: And here I was thinking I’m a nerd.

  Blaine: I can dig that. Nerds are cute.

  My heart just about flatlines. Did he really just call me cute? Play it off, play it down, the voice in my head whispers. Just say something normal.

  Erica: Oh, is that right? :D

  I hate myself for it already. Why the emoticon? I’m not even sure. I clench my hands into fists so hard that the skin over my knuckles turns white as I wait for his response.

  Blaine: Yep ; )

  My heart is ready to explode in my chest. I had been so prepared for a negative response that the positive one sends me reeling. This relationship is really blossoming into something more than what coworkers share, and I’m on top of the world.

  11.

  THE NIGHT PASSES with me in a mood that’s very unlike me, and as I pull into my usual parking spot at work the next day, the mood continues. Instead of anxiety, all I can think about is how seemingly perfect everything is. It’s a strange contrast to the clouds inside of my mind the other day. It’ll be a good day, I think, actually believing it, and wear a huge smile on my face that lasts all the way through the door.

  When I get inside, however, it’s a different story. Camilla is at the register and waves as I pass her to put my purse in my locker. I wave back, and when I return to the front, I reluctantly take my place at her side. It’s Blaine’s day off, but I’m actually relieved. I had barely been able to think up responses online and after support group, I had nearly choked on my own tongue. Now, with the new butterflies fluttering in my stomach, it would have been downright impossible to communicate coherently.

  A blessing in disguise.

  This is my first day manning my own register with Camilla here. I’m so used to being by her side that I have a tendency to look her way to see if she has something to tell me. I tell myself not to, but reflex reaction makes me distracted and it’s not long before Camilla makes her way over to me.

  She probably thinks I’m weird, I think, squeezing my eyes shut as I wait for her to speak.

  “You’re doing so well!” she gushes.

  My eyes pop back open instantly—not what I had expected. but I’ll take it anyway. Her finger points to the perfectly organized chips, and I feel my chest swell up with pride. Nothing like a mental defect to buy you compliments.

  “Thanks,” I say lamely, and before I have to worry about what to say other than that, she rushes off to compliment a customer on her outfit.

  Maybe she just compliments everything, I resolve.

  “Hey, girl!” Kara’s voice calls to me.

  I smile and turn to her. “What are you doing here?”

  “Spying on you,” she says. “After that juicy little nugget you gave me last night? I gotta have all the details! So. Where’s your boy?”

  “Shhh!!” I say, holding my hand up with a frantic glance to Camilla. “You can’t just…say things like that. He’s barely my friend, let alone anything else.”

  “Ah,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Yet, he went with you to your group yesterday?”

  I tense. “How did you know that?”

  A wicked grin makes its way across her face. “I have my sources. But really, where is he?”

  “He’s off today.” The words bring a new wave of depression as soon as they leave my mouth, and I wonder if he really had the day off or if he called out today because of yesterday.

  “Too bad. I still expect a full report,” she says, eyes furrowing.

  I raise an eyebrow. “Of?”

  Her mouth hangs open in exasperation. “Everything that’s been going on. He added you on Facebook, right? Anything good on there?”

  “How do you know things so fast?” I ask, setting my hands on the counter.

  “If I’m not keeping up with your updates as they happen in real time, am I really even your best friend?”

  I laugh and hold up my hands in defeat. “Okay, fair enough. Nothing…happened. I just talked to him a bit. Then we went home.”

  “That’s definitely a start. Nerdy but respectable.” Kara snaps on her gum again. “Anyway, before I hold you up much longer, I just wanted to see if you’d be up for getting drinks tonight. My treat.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Kara, nothing happened! Really!”

  “We’ll see if you stand by that after a couple of tequila shots,” she says, tapping her hand on the shelf closest to her. “Come on! Please?”

  I sigh, feeling myself lose every ounce of willpower I have which, as it turns out, isn’t much to begin with. “Fine, fine.”

  Kara squeals and claps her hands together, pulling Camilla’s attention from the other register. “Fantastic!”

  A half-smile makes its way to my face. “You got your way now, let me do my job before I get in trouble!”

  She gives me her best fake menacing glare and takes a step away before sending me a fresh smile over her shoulder. “Deal. Now, don’t stand me up!”

  12.

  AS DULL AS the day has been so far, at least I know I have art class to look forward to and then a night out with Kara. Who knows? She might actually be proud when she sees me this time.

  As I organize the bags on my register, I hear someone set something down on the belt and turn to see Blaine. Instantly, my heart does its annoying thing and leaps up into the back of my throat. “Hi,” I say, staring at him without even an attempt to reach for the bottle of water he had set down.

  “Hey, so I have a question for you.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “What would that be?”

  “How would you like me to bring you to your art class?” he asks.

  I tilt my head to the side as I reach for his bottle and run it over the scanner. “How do you know it’s today?”

  “You can Google just about everything. I mean it is today, right?”

  I nod uncertainly, and
his smile returns.

  “Then what do you say?”

  TWENTY MINUTES LATER, I’m in Blaine’s truck. He sits in the driver’s seat, adjusting his mirror, and casts me a sideways smile as I look around the contents of his vehicle. It feels so intimate, being in such a small space, just him and me. He starts to drive, and I relax against the seat, though I continue to thread my fingers together nervously.

  He asks me directions to my house, and when we pull up out front, I smile at him. “It’ll be just a minute.”

  I rush inside, heart thrumming as I seek out my art tote and throw on another outfit—putting it on three times over, of course—before I rush back out to his truck. He glances at the bag on my lap as I pull the seatbelt into place.

  “Do we have to bring our own supplies?” he asks.

  I shake my head. “Viola provides them if we need them, but I like to carry my own.”

  He bobs his head. “Mind if I use yours too?”

  “Not at all,” I say, wondering if that’s some type of compulsion of his or something else.

  We flick the radio back and forth, looking for a good song to settle on as he pulls into the parking lot and stops the car.

  “After you,” he says, and I lead the way inside.

  We’re not the first ones, like I usually am, but Viola smiles at my appearance just the same. “Erica, dear! Good to see you again.” Then she turns to Blaine. “And you are?”

  “Blaine,” he says, stretching out his hand for a handshake.

  “Blaine, well, I’m Viola,” she says, stretching her smile. “Go ahead and take a seat anywhere.”

  I obey, and Blaine takes the stool beside me. We take turns reaching into my art tote to pull out supplies that we spread across the table. When the classroom fills up, Viola gives a quick overview, and then we’re left to begin our art. It’s acrylic paints again that we’re focusing on, and I already know the project I want to tackle—something bright and cheery. Not quite rainbows, since I had already pulled that off once, somehow, but something similar.

  I start to paint, but Blaine sits rigidly beside me, watching me work. I’ve already got half of my canvas colored in some way when I glance at his blank one and stop.

  “Are you okay?” I ask him.

  “I’m not sure what to do,” he admits.

  I smile gently. “It’s easy,” I assure him. “Just paint what’s in your head.”

  Blaine looks at my canvas again. “Your mind is cheerful then.”

  I wish. “Paint something.”

  “Okay,” he says with a shrug and picks up a paintbrush, dabbing it with red paint that he flings at his canvas like a rock from a slingshot.

  “That’s a start,” I say.

  “Sure,” he says with a laugh, and when he goes to pick up another blob, it falls off, landing on my shirt.

  “Oh, my God! I’m sorry,” he says, searching out a napkin but can’t find anything even remotely similar nearby.

  I stretch my hand out, not quite touching the stain, but fanning it slightly to urge it to dry as I say, “It’s okay. It’s just a casualty of art.”

  When he realizes I’m not angry, his panic relaxes, and he smiles at me, picking up his paintbrush once again.

  13.

  BLAINE PULLS UP outside of my house once again an hour later, and we sit in awkward silence for a few seconds that feel like forever.

  “Today was fun,” Blaine says at last, setting his brake to turn and look at me.

  I smile and look down at the painting in my lap. It’s Blaine’s speckled canvas which I had agreed to hang onto, so it wouldn’t be thrown around his backseat during the drive. Looking at it now, I find it hard to pry my fingers off of it.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks.

  “I’ve grown attached to your painting,” I admit with a small laugh.

  He reaches out to lift up his work so that he can see my canvas underneath. “Yours is beautiful too, you know.” He pauses. “How about we trade?”

  I raise an eyebrow. “You want to keep my art?”

  He shrugs. “Yeah, why not? It’ll be nice to hang something up made by a real artist.”

  That causes me to blush. “I’m hardly—”

  “Nonsense,” he says before I can finish. “I just feel bad that you’ll be stuck with my uh, creation.”

  I look at it again. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

  “Anytime,” he says.

  I set my hand on the door, but I don’t want to open it, don’t want the moment to end.

  Then he says, “Well, I guess I’ll see you at work,” and I know that’s my cue to go.

  “Bye,” I reply and step out of the truck. I walk around it, inching up my foot trodden path in the snow as I hear him pull away. When I dash inside my house, my cheeks are burning though I can’t tell if it’s with hormones or cold. I turn the corner into my kitchen and gasp, catching sight of Kara sitting at my table. She looks up at me, eyes wide.

  “There you are, girl! I thought you forgot,” she says then looks at the canvas tucked under my arm. “Ooh, let Mama see!”

  I hold out the canvas, wondering if she’ll be able to tell it’s not my work, and she studies the colors from one corner to the next. “This is beautiful.”

  “Thank you,” I say in agreement and set it onto the table beside her as I study my walls for the perfect place to hang it.

  She gathers the hammer and nails, frowning at the smudge of red paint on my shirt, and as soon as Blaine’s painting is on the wall, she immediately drags me to my room to get a change of clothes. I owe Kara a thank you for her plan. Getting ready for the evening turns out to be a wonderful distraction from my obsessions—Blaine included. I pick out a red dress, take it off and put it back on three times over, and decide it’s what I’m going to wear for the night. I barely even have time to blink before we’re at the bar, drinks in front of us.

  Kara’s eyes are wide with excitement as she shoves the tiny cup full of tequila at me. “Cheers!” she says and downs hers.

  A moment later, I do the same though a bit less eager. It burns the back of my throat and sits with a heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach, sending a spreading sensation of warmth across my chest. One drink leaves me faintly buzzed. Then, I realize my phone is buzzing too. I pull it out to see an IM from Blaine.

  Blaine: I had a lot of fun hanging out with you today.

  Erica: Me too.

  Blaine: What do you have planned for the rest of the night?

  My heart just about plummets to my stomach. Why does he want to know, and how do I answer without him getting the wrong impression of me?

  Kara’s impatient nails dig into my arm. “Earth to Erica! What’ve you got in your phone? Nudes?”

  A blush lines my cheeks at the thought as I force my eyes away from the message. “No, I…” I trail off, still in shock that Blaine wants to talk to me again so soon after parting ways. I don’t know why it comes as such a surprise. Maybe I’ve gotten too used to people running away at the first sign of my crazy that it’s strange to see them come back.

  Kara holds out her hand, palm up, and curls her fingers, looking at me through hooded eyes. “Let Mama see.”

  I pass it to her without question, though a voice in the back of my head wonders if that was really a good decision or not. A big grin crosses her face, and I know I’ve made a mistake. When she passes me back the phone, I read her response, cringing with every word.

  “Erica:” Chillin’ at home. Thinkin’ about you, boo!

  “He’s gonna know this isn’t me,” I say, pointing to the phone in my hand.

  Kara shrugs and puts away another shot. “Maybe. Maybe not. Let’s see what happens,” she says, pretending to eat an imaginary bucket of popcorn.

  I frown. This is a game to her, purely entertainment, but to me it’s important. Every second of this “game” makes me feel sick with uncertainty. I can’t take my eyes off the phone as soon as the message says read. My heart feels ready to giv
e out as I watch the dots dancing on the screen as Blaine types up his response. I wonder if the suspense from those dots has ever killed anyone.

  Blaine: Haha! That right? Well, while we’re being honest with one another, I’ve thought about you quite a bit too.

  I blink and read the words three times over, but they don’t seem real.

  “Well, what’d he say?” Kara pouts, downing a third shot to accentuate her fake depression.

  “He says he thinks about me too,” I say, showing her the message.

  She reads it quickly, cat-like eyes darting back and forth before she looks over the phone at me and says, “Mazel tov! You might’ve hooked you a Ken doll.”

  I smirk as the phone buzzes again.

  Blaine: This might seem out of the blue, and I understand if you say no, but would you maybe want to go see a movie or something?

  That’s the last thing I remember before looking into Kara’s concerned face looming over me.

  “Girl, you alright?” she asks, trying to peel back one of my eyelids to see if I’m conscious.

  I groan in the back of my throat and my whole body alights with pain. “I…I’m…what happened?”

  “You fainted. Fell right off the barstool.”

  “Well, that’s embarrassing,” I say, sitting up to survey the crowd that’s gathered around me. It’s an impressive number of people.

  “Eh, you’re fine,” she says, checking the back of my head for lumps. “She’s fine, everyone!” she repeats to the group who continue to watch on like vultures feeding on drama rather than death. They grumble to one another and eventually, begin to part. Kara turns back to me. “At the risk of fainting again, I went ahead and kept your boy busy.” She passes me my phone.

  My heart pounds at the memory of the last message I had read before my fainting spell mixed up my night, and I hold my breath, hoping to never do that again.