By the third day everything was fine. On the first day she forgot to take her medication. She felt normal, but chided herself for forgetting and promised to resume being responsible in the morning. In truth, she wanted to prove she could go one more day without it. Walking to the bar from the train station, she didn’t feel anxious or out of place. At the bar, the music coming from the stage was exhilarating and she drank to the solitude around her. Occasionally she caught the prying eyes of a stranger from across the room, but she tried not to let it rattle her. To her, each stare remind her that they would be there to witness her falling apart. As she stood up to order another drink, a man turned around to face her. He smiled a greasy smile, and in a causal manner, reached his hand out and lightly caressed her butt cheek while telling her how pretty she looked. Without ordering anything, she turned around and quickly slipped back into the crowd of people. In the bathroom, it took an application of lipstick to compose herself. In the mirror she smiled at the silliness of her reaction. From the pay phone in the bathroom hallway she called the man she’d been dating on and off for several months. He said he’d meet her there and she hung up. She was fine, she told herself, she’d wanted to call him anyway. When he arrived, she was herself again; there was no flaw in her routine. It was thrilling how little he knew of her.
In the morning, she was still contained. He made breakfast and would smile at her whenever she spoke. His smiles kept her at a distance that made her feel safe, yet anxious to wonder when it wouldn’t be enough. That day when one of them would want the promise of more than the other could offer; a violation of the unspoken rules that came with living in the moment.
A weariness set in as she finished her coffee and tried to guess how much longer they had. She imagined their little playground surrounded by an electric fence and knew that soon she would start daring him with electrocution.
“Children are bastards,” she said aloud, no longer listening to their conversation. He looked perplexed at her remark, but didn’t comment on it. She made an excuse to leave and they both promised to contact the other soon.
On the streets, the air crushed her from all sides with cold. Her short breaths reminded her of the medication she still hadn’t taken. The weight in her chest was painful. A deep breath assured that she was fine, and she ignored it.
It took her three extra turns of the lock to open the door to her apartment. All over her bedroom floor was the clutter from the night before. All of the mess she had avoided in her need to escape. Hanging her coat on the back of the door, she started transporting objects to their proper places. It was an old trick she used whenever she needed to sort out her thoughts. It wasn’t so bad.
“I’m fine,” she reminded herself. In the back of her mind she remembered cleaning her apartment with no impulse tied to it. She brushed the thought aside and and told herself that she was just taking precautions.
An hour later her stress was high and the mess in her brain had only gotten worse. She stopped herself. Picking up the phone, she started to dial the number of the man who’s place she had just left; three digits in, she put down the receiver. When she picked up the phone again, she was calling her ex-husband. They had married a year after her mother died. He had helped her get her life back together. They had always been friends before but they both soon realized after they married that they would never be more than that. When he brought this to her attention she didn’t deny it. She knew he only stayed friends with her for her sake.
When he picked up the phone she told him about forgetting to take her medication and how much cleaning she had tried to do. By the end of the conversation, she’d agreed that she was being manic and assured him that she would take the medication right after she hung up the phone. “You should come in tablet form,” she teased. She felt reassured, knowing that he cared about her best interest; however, but she forgot her promise the moment she hung up. With one swift click his voice disappeared into the deafening silence. Her emotions wanted to trick her, to tell her that she couldn’t stand up to the quiet.
Afraid of losing control, she grabbed a pillow and laid down in the middle of the floor. She awoke in darkness to the sound of the telephone ringing. The voice belonged to the man whose house she’d left that morning. He said she sounded tired and that he just was calling to make sure she’d gotten home safely. Overwhelmed by a need for intimacy, she told him about the anxiety that had started to weigh on her throughout the day. He listened quietly, but the more she talked the more exposed she felt. The rules came back to her and instantly she stopped talking. Cautiously, he asked her how often this happened. Desperate to change the subject, she said it was rare and that she probably needed to eat something. After that, she’d be fine. His voice was kind as he said that she was just stressed and needed to calm down.
A minute later she was off the phone and in the bathroom. Her eyes adjusted to the brightness of the light. With the tilt of her head, her hand was at her mouth and everything really was fine.