It's Really Happening

Sometimes I think I just have an insatiable wanderlust that comes and goes. That and my strange sense of balance of life made me suggest the trip to Michigan. I knew that Abby hadn’t been to her apartment in months—God only knew what state it was in—and that having your man so far away was hard.

So we found a cheap flight, packed up our shit, and left. Well, Abby did that simple process. I begged my bosses for time off, bribed coworkers to cover my shifts, and had a long discussion with my therapist over AIM on whether I was okay to take a trip. Mac pretty much said if I behaved like I had been and didn’t go too wild, he’d be okay with it.

Leaning against the bumper of Jimmie’s car, I rifled through my bag as the rest of them figured out seating. There might’ve been a small argument about his car smelling like dog, but I wasn’t paying attention. Hands concealed in the depths of my bag, I frowned.

Airplanes only allowed a certain number of plastic containers in carry-ons nowadays, so I’d had to split two of my meds into one bottle. But there were only two orange prescription bottles, I discovered as I searched through my bag. There were supposed to be three. And I knew exactly which ones I’d left on the West Coast.

“Shit,” I hissed, pressing my eyelids shut a moment.

“What’s wrong?”

My head whipped up and, wide-eyed, I saw that Josh was looking at me curiously. “Uh, nothing,” I said lightly, zipping up my bag again, and slammed the trunk. He made a dubious face but shrugged it off.

I spent the entire car ride doing calculations and petting Dexter. I didn’t know exactly how long it would take for my anti-anxiety meds to pass through my system and start withdrawl, but I figured it wouldn’t be less than three days. Hopefully. I really only needed them if I got too stressed or anxious to function, but the fact that I was an idiot and forget them… well, it made me anxious.

How’s that for a catch-22?

With ice-skating though, I could ignore my forgetfulness, mostly because I had to devote all my focus to not falling on my ass. Which I only did twice! Hooray for me! After that came Abby and I deciding what all of us were going to eat.

“No Mexican and I’m not cooking,” I declared, arms crossed. We were all standing out in the parking lot next to the car.

“You promised you’d cook for me one day!” Jimmie reminded, pulling a pout.

“I assumed she meant on tour,” Abby laughed, swinging her hand in Josh’s. “Because, you know, the whole not-eating-well-on-tour thing.”

“So no Mexican.”

“No.”

“Italian?”

“Only if you want Eris to question and bitch about their methods of preparing and presenting the food.”

“Shut up, Abigail.”

“Pizza!” Josh exclaimed, interrupting us. “Neutral territory!” That was very true, and good enough for everyone.

Jimmie tilted his head at me over the top of the car. “Wait, aren’t you lactose intolerant?” he asked.

I shrugged. “I could basically start a pharmacy with the contents of my purse,” I replied before smiling brightly. “So if I run out of money I can become a drug dealer! Also, shotgun!”

So we went to get pizza and it was delicious, but that’s not really that important. We also drank a bit, but that’s neither important nor surprising. We’re not always ridiculous. Just most of the time.

The next morning I woke up past 10 (mostly because I wanted to get used to the time zone and set my alarm). Abby was in the kitchen, jut beginning to cook breakfast. “Good morning,” she greeted.

I blankly watched her move around the kitchen for a long moment. I don’t have a personality after just waking up, so I had to think of something to say. “Well, aren’t you already a good little wifey?” I commented. “Cooking breakfast. Where’s your apron and matching pearls?”

She laughed. "Apron's in the closet, never got the pearls."

I yawned and rubbed my eye. “It’s too early for bad sex jokes, so I expect you to remind me you said that later.”

“Go find your brain, Eris.”

That order was okay with me, really, since among the things I’d remembered to bring were several books. Plus she and Josh had comfy chairs.

A few minutes later, Josh shuffled out, hair all askew. I rolled my eyes back to my book as he went straight into the kitchen. Number one way to wake up a dude: make him breakfast. When he came back out, Josh flopped onto the couch with a smile.

“I love her,” he informed me.

I snorted. “And the Pacific Ocean is big and wet.”

Abby did make enough for the three of us, but I was absorbed in the plot and said I’d eat in a bit. I did have to keep Dexter from cleaning my plate though. “Where the hell did you hide a book that thick?”

“Why would I hide it?” I asked, eyes flicking up. “Besides, this is one of the shorter books I brought.”

“Seriously?” Josh asked, turning his head to look at the cover. “You could kill a bear with that thing.”

“That’s what she said.”

“I see you sharpened your rapier wit while I was cooking,” Abby laughed.

I smiled sweetly. “All the better to duel you with, my dear.”

It was decided that nobody wanted to go out and do anything today, so we all sat around and did nothing. Exciting, yeah? I continued reading while Josh and Abby disappeared, and I did my best not to think about that. After all, they needed some time alone, and I felt like I was encroaching just by being there.

It occurred to me somewhere after noon that I had ignored my phone and the internet, which for most of my life hadn’t bothered me when I had a good book. But then again, most of my life I hadn’t had a boyfriend.

I went back to the guest room and sprawled across the bed to play with my toy wander the internet on my iPhone. Despite the infinite, expanding vastness of information available, the corners I frequented didn’t change much. People didn’t stop updating Twitter, comics didn’t stop updating—people got really upset when they did—and spam-bots didn’t stop filling my inbox with bullshit.

One thing was different though, and I felt my throat tighten at the sight of an email from my father’s wife Karen. Hand shaking, I opened it and zoomed in.

Eris-

Dr. Sovoy emailed us, asking what we thought about your taking a trip. Why are you hiding things from us? I thought you’d outgrown the immaturity of lying. Your dad and I would’ve liked to know you were leaving the state, even though you’ve cut us out of your life—

I never got farther than that before I deleted the email and laid my head down on my arms. I kept thinking about all the things that had come up in therapy, how my parents had controlled and ignored and emotionally abused me over the years. A muscle in my arm twitched and I pressed my ear against it as it continued.

Amid the aching memories, I got angry. Furious. How dare she accuse me and insult me and not even deem me worthy of a decent greeting! I realized that not only was my head spinning, but I was also breathing too fast and my leg had started jerking.

I pushed myself off the bed and paced the room, trying to push away the torrent of thoughts swirling faster than I could hold on them and breathe deeply. Dexter following me made me almost trip over him and fall on my face, though.

Pulling at my lower lip, I tried to contemplate options through a manic mental state, a growing migraine, and a severely nauseous stomach. I could stick it out for a few more days, probably spending the rest of the trip violently ill and not good company. I could find a drugstore and dope myself up with some Benadril, so even though I was still losing my mind, I wouldn’t have the capacity to care. I could call my shrink and ask what he thought.

The ONE thing you were supposed to do was remember your meds and you fucking forgot, you stupid fuck-up, I told myself, running both my hands through my hair.

I tugged on my shoes, grabbed my camera, my wallet, and my phone, and hooked Dexter’s leash onto his collar before walking through the apartment. “I’m going for a walk!” I shouted, and even in my ears it sounded strained. “I may be some time!” I restrained myself from breaking into a run for the street after I shut the door.

Once half a block away from Abby and Josh’s apartment, I took a few deep breaths, face lifted to the sun. Dexter pulled at the leash, trying to pull me faster. My chest ached and my feet moved of their own accord, but the air was good.

After a few minutes I plugged my headphones into my phone and went through my contacts. I chewed hard on my lip as the line rang. “Doctor Sovoy’s office,” the secretary announced.

I cleared my throat of imitating her false cheerfulness. “Hello, is Dr. Sovoy available please?”

“He’s in a meeting right now, is it urgent,” she said, voice rising and falling in a way that only a secretary’s can.

I took another deep breath. “Somewhat,” I decided. I sighed, aggravated, and rubbed my eyes. “Can you please have him call Eris Weston as soon as he can?” She said she would and asked for my number. “He has it. Thank you. Have a nice day.”

I hate telephones, and I abhor talking to falsely polite people I don’t know. It made me nervous and sick and trip over my tongue like it had suddenly swollen to the size of a cow’s.

“Stupid meeting,” I grumbled, stowing my lens cap in my pocket. “Stupid people.” I snapped a picture. “Stupid chemical imbalance.” Click. “Stupid faulty memory.” Click click.

My phone rang a few minutes later just as I was beginning to wonder where I was going. Mostly I was just following Dex, and he certainly didn’t give a shit where we were going. “Hey, Mac,” I greeted, letting my camera fall around my neck.

“Hey, Eris,” he replied. “Is Michigan really that bad?”

I chuckled. I liked Mac from the minute I met him. He was young—about thirty-three—and complimented me on my tattoos before showing me his own. He’d also had Led Zeppelin’s “Black Dog” on at the time. “It’s not Michigan’s fault I’m a basket case.”

He asked what was up and I explained as carefully as I could, not leaving out a single detail. I didn’t even paraphrase the email Karen had sent me. Mac listened until I ran out of words and then paused a moment. I kept walking. “Eris, you have to remember that sometimes people forget things,” he said.

“I know that.”

“You’re only human.”

“I’m aware.”

“You’re being short with me.”

“No shit!” I exclaimed, stopping on a corner. Dexter twisted his head around to look at me. “I almost had a panic attack in my friends’ apartment because I’m shit at not fucking up the details.”

Mac sighed. “Don’t be self-deprecating,” he said. “This is what I’m talking about.”

The light turned and I stepped off the curb. “I am trying,” I muttered. “It just stresses me out and nobody here knows except Abby and I’m worried that if this is what I’m like after only a day, how bad am I going to be when I get back to California?”

He was quiet for a while. “It does show progress that you said ‘when’ and not ‘if’,” he admitted. “And if you send me your location, I can send a scrip to the nearest drugstore, but Eris—” I hated when Mac used the caring psychiatrist voice— “You can’t keep secrets from your friends.”

“I’m sure they keep plenty from me.” Down the block I spotted the familiar, but forever so far away, logo of Tim Horton’s, and my aching feet told me it was time to rest. “If… if they ask or it comes up, I’ll tell them.”

“Thank you.” I looked up the nearest Walgreens and told him the address. Mac replied that they’d have my order filled in half an hour. Then we hung up and I sat myself down at a table outside, exhausted.

Dexter wandered around the table, sniffing and exploring everything within range of his leash. I smiled as I watched him. “Things must be so much easier for you,” I mused to him. “You don’t care about being happy or well-adjusted. You just have to be.”

With a sigh, I decided puppy-watching was too depressingly maudlin and something that made me happy was in order. Buuuut since Zack was in LA still, I’d had to settle for texting him.

Love you. Michigans kinda boring.

Then, since I had nothing else to do for a while, I simply sat and watched cars go by, making up little stories about what the drivers’ lives might be like. Soon, I got a text, but not from Zack.

Are you sitting outside a Tim’s in Michigan?

I frowned down at the screen before looking around. Funny, I didn’t see a tall blonde bro around anywhere. Are you stalking me?

A reply didn’t come in the usual amount of time it took to type, so I started fiddling with my camera, which gave me the perfect opportunity when a car pulled into the lot. I took a few shots of Danny as he got out and crossed the empty asphalt to where I was sitting.

“Yeah, I am,” he said with a grin. I chuckled and put down my camera. “I guess you’re the surprise Josh was talking about.”

“Abby and I, yeah.”

“Figures.” Danny made a sad face at me and held out his arms. “I don’t get a hug? I have missed you, ya know.”

I pushed myself up, but before I took a step, Dexter came running around the table, barking and putting himself between us. Danny jumped back, more out of surprise than anything else. “When did they get a dog?” he asked, eying Dex hesitantly.

Coughing to cover my laugh, I pulled the growling puppy away from Danny’s legs. “He’s actually mine and Abby’s,” I explained. “Don’t worry, he did this with everyone once he figured out which ladies loved him most. Dexter, sit!”

He sat. Woo training! “Stay.” I slowly stepped over to Danny, both of us watching the pup, and hugged him around the neck. “Once he figures out you’re harmless, he’ll like you.”

“I’m not harmless,” he argued, a little offended.

“Would you prefer that my dog hate you?”

“…Maybe…”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re weird. C’mon, I haven’t had ice cap in forever.” I tied Dexter’s leash to a pole so he wouldn’t get away and we went inside. My stomach lurched as I pondered how to bring up something with my friend of several years that I’d kept from him. As we were waiting for our drinks to get made, I cleared my throat, eyes roving around the tile floor. “So Danielson, do you think you could do me an eensy weensy favour?”

“Does it involve buying drugs?” he asked, half-amused.

My eyes lifted to his before moving away again. “…Prescription ones…” I qualified in a small voice.

Danny blinked at me. “Wow, I was kidding.” I gave a weak smile, and luckily our order came up.

He didn’t ask any questions about what I was getting or why I needed it, which I appreciated. I’d met Danny at a very… reclusive, misanthropic point in my life, and he’d learnt not to pry. I was different now—mostly—but there were still things I didn’t want him to know.

Instead, we caught up on random shit in our lives as we travelled back to Abby and Josh’s apartment. My stories were a lot less interesting compared to his since I was in college and college is way more boring than tour, but he sounded interested and laughed at my dumb jokes.

“Abbyyyyyyy,” I called, knocking on the apartment door. “Stop making out with Josh and answer the dooooor!”

I plastered on a toothy grin when she pulled the door open, giving me a dirty look. “Where’ve you been?” she asked, not moving aside.

I shrugged. “Around. I walked the puppy.”

She looked down at the drink in my hand. “You went to Tim’s and didn’t bring me cocoa? You suck.”

“But I brought a Danny Stevens!” I did my best Vanna White impression, gesticulating around Danny who rolled his eyes.

Abby pouted. “It’d be better if he had cocoa,” she muttered, turning back into her apartment.

Danny laughed. “Nice to see you too.”