Because He's Perfect

by Anna Edwards

  7:00 - meeting end time

  7:05 - depart from community center

  7:27 - arrive at home

  8:55 - set up the coffee pot

  9:00 - bedtime

  Once I mentally go through the day ahead of me, I flip the switch on the coffee pot three times. Flick, flick, flick. I always make sure it’s set and ready to go the night before.

  The green light doesn’t turn on.

  Hmm that’s weird.

  I open the top of the coffee maker where the water and grounds go and it’s empty. Feeling the beginning of panic start to overtake me, I pull on the cord behind the machine and I see that it’s not plugged in.

  I got the coffee ready last night. I know I did. Right?

  God, now I’m second guessing myself.

  Slamming the lid back down, I walk to the front door of my apartment. I need to retrace my steps when I came in last night.

  I came in, took my work boots off, and placed them on the mat by the door. Then, I got some hand sanitizer from the table next to where I keep my shoes and I rubbed it all over my hands.

  I closed the door and turned the lock once, twice, three times. I reached up and pulled the chain through the track closer to the top of the door and tugged on it three times.

  I went into the kitchen and emptied my lunch cooler. I washed it, dried it, and placed it on top of the refrigerator.

  After that, I stripped out of my clothes and placed them into the washing machine, added detergent, and set it to sanitize. I walked to the freezer and pulled out a microwaveable dinner. I popped it in to start cooking and then I went to take a shower. On the way into the bathroom, I stopped at the silver hook on the wall and kissed Annie’s necklace three times.

  When I got out of the shower and I finished getting dressed, I grabbed my dinner from the microwave and sat down to eat it at the two-person, bistro style table in the center of my kitchen. When I was finished, I placed my trash into a grocery bag, threw it down the garbage chute in the hallway outside of my door. Came back inside, performed my locking routine, used more hand sanitizer. I went back into the kitchen, and cleaned and dried my fork before putting it away in the drawer.

  Yesterday was Monday, I didn’t have a meeting and it wasn’t a day that I would go visit Nalma. I sat down in my armchair, turned on the television and I settled down to watch an episode of Bar Rescue.

  Shit. I fell asleep in the chair.

  That’s something I never do. When I woke up, I meant to go into the kitchen and prepare the coffee for the morning.

  Thinking back, I don’t remember doing that.

  Shit.

  After I woke up, I went into the bathroom and brushed my teeth. I kissed Annie’s necklace three times and then I went to bed.

  I look at the clock and realize that I am running behind. It’s 6:25 and I should have already made my lunch I should have already kissed Annie’s necklace three times, and I should be getting my work boots on.

  Picking up the pace, I get the coffee machine set up and switched on, and begin making my lunch while I wait for it to brew. I open the fridge and pull out 2 protein packs filled with meat, cheese, and nuts. I also pull out two orange Gatorades and a bottle of Pepsi. Opening the cabinet above the microwave, I grab a couple of snack-sized bags of chips and place them in the cooler. Lastly, I grab two apples from the bowl on the counter and place them inside. Then I place my cooler on the counter before getting a travel coffee mug out of the cabinet.

  I pour the black liquid into the cup and screw the lid on tightly, making sure to secure it so nothing will spill out. I grab my cooler and my coffee and walk to the front door. Placing my things down on the small table that sits next to the door, I lean down and put my work boots on and use the hand sanitizer. I run the chain lock up and down the track and I unlock my door. Once, twice, three times. Grabbing my cooler and my coffee I walk out of the apartment and close the door behind me. Struggling to hold my cooler and my coffee in one hand, I reach into my pocket, pull out the key to my apartment and I lock the door. One, two, three times. I complete the counting sequence before turning and walking down the steps.

  When I get down to the ground floor, I bump into one of my neighbors who is also leaving at this time.

  “Here, let me get that for you,” she says to me, seeing that my hands are full.

  Breathe...nice and steady. I hate running into people for this reason. I am going to have to tell her no and she is going to think that I am being rude or an asshole. But I have got to be the one to open the door.

  Remember what Byron told you in group the other day. Start with something small and try to overcome one compulsion at a time. I am running late and it would save me a little bit of time if I let her hold it for me. But I’ve already had a setback today with the coffee and I don’t know if I can handle another change today. Especially not one right after the other like this.

  “Is everything okay?” she asks.

  Jesus, Kev. At least say something.

  “Sorry. Thank you,” I say before walking through the door.

  Get it under control.

  I attempt to calm my breathing and I look down at my watch. It’s now 6:35.

  Only 5 minutes late. Not the end of the world, right?

  I thought it was going to be later than that. This is good. I can get myself back on track and the rest of the day will fall into place where it should be.

  Chapter Three

  Walking down the stairs to the lower floor of the community center, I touch each step as I go. Step down with my left foot. My right foot follows. Step down with my left foot. My right foot follows. Counting each step as I go, I know I need to get this right. Last Thursday when I came to the meeting, someone stopped me on the steps and asked for directions to one of the rooms. It messed up my entire rhythm and caused me to start all over again. It was awful and I almost didn’t arrive in time for therapy group.

  As I reach the entryway to our meeting room, I notice her right away...a new addition to our group. She looks like Annie with her long blonde hair and blue eyes and my heart clenches as I try to tear my gaze away from her.

  “Alright, let’s all take our seats,” Byron says. He’s our group leader and he’s also a therapist who specializes in Exposure and Response Prevention, or ERP.

  “We have a new member who I’d like to welcome. Everyone, this is Mia.”

  She sits in her seat and gives us all a shy wave. She’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.

  “Okay, so last week I challenged all of you to try and change something small when it comes to your compulsions. Show of hands, how many of you succeeded?”

  Several hands go up, but not everyone’s. I debate raising my hand. I know that I let my neighbor open the door for me, but is it really that big of a deal?

  “Is that it?” Byron looks around. “No one else changed anything? It doesn’t matter how big or small it may seem to you, I want to hear about it.”

  I decide to raise my hand. So do a few other people.

  “Excellent! Katie, what did you change?”

  “I took the elevator in my apartment building rather than the stairs, but I only did it once.”

  “Once is better than none. How did you feel afterward?

  “I felt relieved, but also terrified at what could have happened. I was scared that even though nothing bad happened that time, it only heightened the chances of something bad happening the next time.”

  Yup. I thought to myself. That’s exactly how I feel too. I don’t realize that I am nodding my head in agreement until Byron calls on me.

  “Kevin?” My head snaps in his direction. “What about you?”

  Shit.

  “Um, I let one of my neighbors hold the door open for me today. I was running a few minutes late because of, uh, something that happened and so I thought about what you said during the last session and decided to let her hold the door for me.”

  “Very good. How did you feel about it after the f
act?”

  “Well, I felt kind of how Katie felt at first. But, when I looked at my watch to see how late I was, I realized that I was back on track. It saved me a little time not having to unlock and relock it like I normally do.”

  “Awesome, that’s great,” he says to me with a smile before searching for someone else to call on.

  “Oscar, hit me! What did you change?”

  “I took the subway the other day,” everyone looks at him with shocked expressions on their faces. Oscar’s twin brother contracted a rare strain of the flu virus and ended up in a coma for a little while before passing away. Ever since then he hasn’t been able to close himself in anywhere else that has people; public transportation, elevators, etc.

  “Damn, that’s not a small feat at all! Look at you, tell me more,” Byron encourages him.

  “It was the strangest thing. I was walking home the other day and just as I was passing the steps going down into the tunnel, it was like my brother was in my head, telling me that I was being silly. To stop messing around and just go for it. That if I got on the subway I would make it home so much faster.

  “I stood on the corner getting ready to cross the street. The light turned red and the little white hand on the crosswalk light started blinking. A few people started walking, but I heard his voice again, calling me a punk like he used to when we would joke with one another. I turned around to go back toward the subway. Just as I reached the railing, I heard someone screaming behind me. I looked back and a car had run through the red light and hit the woman who was standing next to me...” he stops, deep in thought.

  “It would have been me. Once the cops came, I hopped on that subway and went home.”

  “That’s incredible. Is she alive? How bad was it?”

  “She’s alive, the car slammed on its brakes and--”

  I shoot up out of my seat. I can’t breathe. Hearing Oscar talk about the car running the red light triggered the accident from 10 years ago to replay in my mind.

  I hear people calling my name. I hear them talking. I hear them asking me if I’m okay. Only, their voices are muddled, like I’m underwater. Deep underwater, until everything is black.

  When my eyes open, I think I’m in heaven because I’m staring at the face of an angel.

  “Annie?” My head is resting in her lap and her blue eyes meet mine. She is looking down at me, her blonde hair creating a curtain and throwing a little shadow over her face.

  “Who’s that?” When she talks she doesn’t sound like Annie at all.

  “Who--?”

  “It’s Mia,” she lifts her hand to her chest as she re-introduces herself to me.

  I squeeze my eyes together and rub my hand down my face. I move to sit up and realize that we’re still in the meeting room and everyone from group is standing around us.

  “Are you okay?” Byron asks. “You had a panic attack while Oscar was telling his story.”

  “Yeah,” I blink a few times, trying to clear my vision a little more.

  “Here, I’ll help you up,” Mia says.

  “Kev, are you okay to get home? I can drive you if you need me to,” Byron offers

  “No, no thank you. I’m fine.”

  “I can walk with you,” Mia says. “I used to be a nurse.”

  “No, I’m alright, seriously,” I say, but when I get to my feet I feel myself swaying on the spot, and Byron reaches out and steadies me.. I don’t need a babysitter and the last thing I want is this girl thinking I’m weak. It’s bad enough she knows why I’m here.

  “Kev, either I’m driving you or she’s walking you home. Doctor’s orders.”

  “Fine.”

  Chapter Four

  “Here we are,” I say to Mia when we reach my apartment building.

  I look down at my watch. 7:10. I am ahead of schedule since Byron called an abrupt end to the meeting after I interrupted it with my panic attack..

  We talked a little bit on the way home, but not about anything too deep. She’s a sweet girl, though. She said that she just moved to the city and was looking to try new things. She has come a long way in her therapy for this disorder and feels like she is ready to take on new challenges.

  “Are you going to be okay getting upstairs?”

  “Are you inviting yourself up?” What the hell did I just say? I must still be a little loopy from passing out.

  The look on her face is a bit defensive and I feel terrible for making her feel bad.

  “I, uh--”

  “Oh, I was just joking. I don’t usually like people being in my space anyway.”

  “Oh, okay. I’ll go,” she says as she turns away.

  “Mia, wait.”

  Oh my God, Kev. You’re such a dick.

  “I’m so sorry, please don’t listen to anything that I just said. I think I’m still out of it a little bit.”

  “It’s ok,” she says with a slight smile.

  “I feel like a piece of shit.”

  “Really, it’s fine.”

  “No, but I also mean because I should have been the one to walk you home. This isn’t very gentlemanly of me.”

  “Next time,” she says with a wink. “Bye, Kev.”

  Turning toward the door, I place my key in the lock and turn it once and I stop.

  Why do I need to unlock it three times? Because I locked it three times this morning. No I didn’t, my neighbor locked it behind me this morning. She’s a normal person. She would have only locked it once.

  I pause for a few moments longer before reaching for the doorknob and opening the door. I walk inside and shut the door behind me. Looking out of the glass, I see Mia walking down the sidewalk away from the building. If she was able to pick up everything and move somewhere while she’s dealing with OCD, surely I should be able to lock this door once, walk up the steps and go into my apartment.

  I reach for the lock on the door and I turn it once. A touch of heat threatens to spread across my body as I watch my fingers begin to twitch. As I begin to let go of my grasp on the lock, I let them open and my hand falls away, hanging loosely by my side. I glance at Mia one more time before turning toward the stairs and walking up to my apartment.

  I make it up the first couple steps before the panic starts to set in. I need to lock the door again. When my feet hit the landing below, I walk over to the doorknob and work the lock two more times.

  Wait. I only unlocked the door once. So now the count is off.

  I start breathing heavily and blackness threatens to overtake my vision once again. I don’t know what to do but I need to get out of here. As quickly as I can, I unlock the door and throw it open. As I leap out onto the sidewalk, I almost run over a couple walking down the street as I look around frantically to see if I can still see Mia anywhere.

  It’s crazy. I barely even know who she is, but she’s here and she knows what I’m going through. Finally I locate her and start running in her direction.

  “Mia!” I call after her.

  She turns around and runs over to me just before I crash to the ground.

  “Oh my God, Kevin, what’s wrong?”

  “I’m not okay. I can’t go in there right now,” I pant. I am on my knees in front of her, hands over my face and hanging my head in shame. She crouches down and looks at me, pulling my hands away.

  “It’s okay, you’re going to be fine. I promise,” she holds my face and forces me to look into her eyes. “I promise.”

  Chapter Five

  Three Months Later

  “You’re doing it again,” Mia says, her head is on my chest and her voice is thick with sleep.

  My eyes are closed but I’ve been awake for a while now. I didn’t realize she was up too.

  “What’s that?” I ask.

  “Thinking too loudly,” she says as she pushes herself up on her elbows and looks at me. I look at her beautiful blue eyes before my gaze roams down her slim neck and lands on her boobs that are pressed together between her arms. Her messy blonde hair hangs down
over her shoulders hiding some of her beauty from view.

  I reach down and try to rearrange myself without her noticing, but I fail miserably. She reaches her arm under the covers and touches the inside of my thigh.

  “What’s happening under here?” She asks, feigning innocence.

  As she starts to lift the blanket I grab her arm and roll over on top of her. She lifts her chin up and I place my lips on hers.

  My OCD hasn’t improved much, but I’ve been able to cope with it a little bit more since Mia and I started seeing one another. She’s been a great help to me as she’s been through all of this before, so I really look to her for guidance. Sometimes, it makes me feel like less of a man, the idea that she takes care of me more than I take care of her. But never in the few months that I’ve known her, has she ever given me reason to believe that I am weak. Everyday she tells me how strong I am. If she notices me struggling with something, she doesn’t point it out. If she notices that I’ve been able to skip any part of my routine, she gently congratulates me without making a huge deal about it. She doesn’t call out one thing about me or my routine that would make me believe that I am anything other than normal.

  Every day that we spend together, I fall more and more in love with her, and also slowly start to feel more comfortable with myself. This journey isn’t about how other people see me and whether or not they accept me. It’s about how I see myself and accepting this part of me no matter how different or awful I feel because of it.

  “What do you want to do today?” She asks.

  “This,” I say bringing my hand down in between our bodies and place it over the thin material between her legs. I curl my finger over the fabric a few times and she moans slightly.

  “Oh, really?” She asks, placing her hand on my cock.

  I remove my hand from her pussy and grab her wrist. Placing both of her hands over her head I hold them tightly before returning my fingers to the warm spot between her legs. My teeth find her lower lip and bite down gently as my fingers dip beneath the fabric covering her.