Safe With Me

A heavy sigh escaped through Florrie’s lips as she piled packed boxes up in the corner of her small bedroom. Turning around, she tripped over a few miscellaneous items littering the floor, a slew of curses slipping past her chapped lips. She straightened up, leaning back in an awkward position and cracked her aching back. A bead of sweat was forming on her forehead and she wiped it away with the back of her hand, a disgusted look taking its place on her flushed face. With another tired sigh, she leaned down and picked up the remaining things on her floor, throwing them into the final box on her bed. Her room had been mostly barren, even before everything was packed away in boxes, so looking around, seeing nothing but four blank walls colored an ugly beige and a single mattress on the floor, she wasn’t fazed.

Most people get worked up when they have to move from the one place they’ve spent their entire lives. Florrie, on the other hand, was welcoming this change; anything to help her get away from all the stares constantly being sent her way, filled with pity and judgment. She never considered California her home. It was just the place where her house was, where her family lived, and where a few people that she was just barely able call friends lived. She had no emotional attachment to this place; no real reason to stay or be upset that she was leaving. It was like ending a book and starting a new one; the chapters of the past meant nothing.

Carefully, she grabbed a few of the heavy, stuffed boxes and wandered out of her room. She could hear her parents talking in the kitchen, their words muffled by the walls. As she passed the doorway, their mouths stopped moving and they looked her way. She avoided their stares and continued on her way, heading outside. The Honda Civic sitting in her driveway had that new car smell. A green pine tree hung from the mirror, its pungent odor doing nothing to mask the already disgusting smell of the car. It was pointless for her parents to have bought her this, what she liked to call, ‘hunk of junk’. She barely ever drove anywhere, usually content with walking or getting rides from the few friends she had. Her parents insisted of course – once she was gone and at her new house, she’d have no friends to mooch off of and she’d have no idea where anything was. She snorted at the sheer thought of her parents even showing their consideration towards her feelings or well-being, especially considering how they’d been acting these last few months.

Once she had loaded all of her boxes into the trunk and back seat, she headed back inside the house again, pushing herself up the stairs sluggishly to her room. It looked like it hadn’t been lived in for years; the walls were spotless, the carpet still it’s pure white and it smelled like absolutely nothing. If she hadn’t just spent all day emptying the room out herself, she’d be convinced a ghost had once lived here – or maybe one still did.

Looking at the time on her cell phone, she realized she was late. She didn’t have time to shower, so she settled on changing out of her dusty and sweat filled clothes and threw her hair into a messy bun before heading out. She slipped on her combat boots; worn and ripped from all the times she’s worn them. Marching out of the house without so much as a goodbye to her parents, she began her trek down the street.

The sun shone down from high above, beating down onto the street. The cool breeze from the nearby ocean that flowed from a few miles away was the only thing keeping Florrie from completely melting onto the sidewalk. She walked with an easy, confident stride, her head held high and her eyes looking straight ahead. It wasn’t uncommon for heads to turn and eyes to stare as she wandered down the street; her looks practically screamed for attention – unintentionally of course. In her opinion, California was filled with a million other girls that looked just as good, if not better than, her. She was average - typical, ordinary. The double takes and longing stares constantly being sent her way seemed to float over her head. There were always more important things filling up her mind and most of the time, as she wandered around the San Francisco streets, her head was in the clouds, her body moving on autopilot, familiar with all the routes to the important places she chose to go.

When she reached the familiar building, she hesitated just for a moment, realizing that this would be the last time she walked through these double glass doors. The nostalgic feeling passed by quickly and in an instant the familiar scowl was on her face and she stepped into the air conditioned room. This entire thing had become a routine now – she didn’t even know how she’d been able to stick to such a regular thing for so long. Florrie was a lot of things, but consistent was not one of them.

“Hey Florrie,” the young receptionist greeted her. “You can head right in. He’s waiting for you.”

"Thanks, Rach," she mumbled, nodding her head in confirmation, sending the receptionist a ghost of a smile.

Dr. Reed was always waiting on Florrie. Once in a blue moon she managed to be on time – Dr. Reed was used to this by now and knew not to fret over her tardiness. Florrie walked into the familiar baby blue room, jumping up onto the bed in the middle of the room, the paper crinkling below her. She looked around, almost as if trying to memorize every aspect of the four walls. Along the wall directly in front of her were all the awards Dr. Reed had received framed in expensive wood, certificates spieling his intelligence and achievements. The silver sink that was rarely ever used had a leaky faucet and when the room was silent, as it was at this very moment, Florrie would count the drops as they fell into the stainless steel drain.

“Ah, Florrie, my favorite patient. How are you this morning?” Dr. Reed asked, stepping into the room, his clipboard held tight in his wrinkling hands. He closed the door behind him and sat down in his squeaky swivel chair, spinning around to face Florrie.

“Well, I’m still breathing so I’d say that’s pretty good,” she joked.

Dr. Reed cracked a smile and nodded his head, “I’d have to agree.”

He took a moment to look through a few papers on his clipboard and then scribbled a few things down on the paper with his ballpoint pen before looking back up at the awaiting girl.

“I sent all of your files to your new doctor in Tempe. Her name is Dr. Roberts and she's very skilled in her field. She was a friend of my wife’s back in college. I trust you won’t give her as much of a hard time as you’ve given me these last few years, right?”

“You should be thanking me doc. With all my appointments, I’ve practically paid for that nice watch on your wrist and that vacation you and your wife took to Aruba last month,” she smirked.

He chuckled before the smile slid off his face and a serious look took over his features. “I don’t like you having to come here anymore than you do, Florrie. It’s not every day I’m dealing with this issue on such a young patient.” She nodded her head in understanding. “Lucky for you, I don’t think we have to do much today. Just a few basic breathing tests so Dr. Roberts has your most up to date information.”

“Whatever,” Florrie shrugged, already so used to this routine.

Dr. Reed stood up and pulled his stethoscope up from around his neck and onto his ears. He lifted up the back of her shirt and placed the cold metal against her porcelain skin, moving it around as she took deep breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth. Once he was finished, he wrote something on the papers attached to his clipboard before linking his hands together and looking at the young girl expectantly.

“I’m going to ask you something and I want you to be honest here, okay?” He began. Florrie nodded her head, already knowing what he was going to ask. “Are you smoking again?”

“Me? Never. Good girls don’t smoke, doc.”

“Florrie,”

She rolled her green orbs with a sigh, “Once in a while,” she finally answered, looking down at her legs, her blue veins just showing through her skin.

“How often is once in a while exactly?”

She shrugged, “I don’t know. Maybe about a pack a week.”

He looked at his patient with a disapproving look. “That's a lot of smoke you're inhaling, Florrie."

"I know, I know. I just need something to keep me sane, okay? My life is one stress after another. Smoking relaxes me. There are much worse things I could be doing. I could be drinking myself into a coma or shooting up every night.”

“If your mother heard you say that she’d have a fit,” Dr. Reed said, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Florrie, each cigarette you smoke takes you one step back in recovery. If your mother were here - "

Florrie immediately cut him off. “She’s not here, is she?” she muttered. “She’s never here.”

The room settled into an awkward and familiar silence, all except for the ticking clock on the wall above the door and that leaky faucet. Florrie counted each passing second and each liquid splatter.

One Drip.

Two Drip.

Three Drip.

Four Drip.

Finally, Dr. Reed broke the silence, much like she knew he eventually would.

“In all honesty, how have you been feeling lately?”

The brunette haired girl breathed out heavily. “I feel... fine.”

“Not light-headed? Drowsy?”

“I’m fine.”

“The words of a good liar.”

“No, the words of a twenty year old girl who is sick of being asked how she feels.”

“Okay, okay. But just know that I will be calling Dr. Roberts and keeping up to date on you.”

“Isn’t that like breaking doctor-patient confidentiality or something?”

“Technically, I was your doctor first.”

“Getting jealous that I’m replacing you?”

“More like relieved,” he taunted.

She couldn’t fight the laugh the slipped out of her mouth, though it was gone almost as soon as it had appeared.

Soon enough, Dr. Reed dismissed Florrie, handing her a prescription refill for her medication and sending her off with a final goodbye hug. As the stubborn girl made her way out of the office, Dr. Reed watched, worried that this would be the last time he ever saw her. He looks over at his receptionist and smiles at her before heading back to his office with Florrie Lee, his youngest patient, at the forefront of his worries.



The relationship between Florrie and her mother has always been a strained one.

Neither understood each other from the moment Florrie was old enough to talk. She had always been the rebellious type, taking risks, doing things that nearly everyone would deem reckless and irresponsible. It was just part of her nature; she was wild, she was free. Her mother hated that. Amanda Lee hated her daughter’s free-bird attitude. It wasn’t just that she worried about her well-being. It was more than that. She wanted Florrie to grow up to be a respectable young woman; to get a good education, a good paying job, and eventually settle down and start a family, much like she herself had.

The two women were both strong-headed and opinionated. They had their own thoughts that they each assumed were right and could never compromise with one another. For Florrie, she saw her mother’s over-bearing personality as a way to make Florrie someone she had no desire to be. For Amanda, she was simply trying to give her daughter the best life possible and keep it from getting cut short, despite knowing that ultimately that fate was out of her hands. Florrie would consider making changes in her life if her mother asked her, but that never happened. Amanda Lee demanded things and gave ultimatums instead of choices. Those ultimatums were what ruined their relationship after years of butting-heads and arguing.

A relationship was something that took time to build and that could be torn apart in just a single moment. It was something that could be so simple and yet so complex. It was – is – something that some people take for granted and go through like a pack of cigarettes. Everyone was built to have a relationship, whether it is platonic or sexual – humans were just meant to form bonds with other humans. We are living, breathing beings that run on emotions and who need human companionship to even sustain normalcy.

Relationships are something everyone has the ability to form, except of course for people like Florrie – or so she tried to convince herself.

She barely trusted anyone anymore. She had her reasons, the most important being that you can’t have a relationship if it can’t be solid and sustained over a period of time. Her life was full of risks and dangers. Every day she was glad to just wake up breathing with her hair on her head and her lungs in her body. There was a time when she had friends, real friends that she enjoyed going to the movies with and having sleepovers with. Everything eventually changed though. No one understood her reasons for pushing them away – not that she ever gave anyone a chance to understand. All she knew at a particular moment was that she needed to keep everyone at a distance because they didn’t deserve her; she didn’t deserve them. She knew the truth would come out eventually – it was inevitable – but she had all intentions of postponing that moment of epiphany as best and for as long as she could. So she did the only thing she could to stop herself from getting hurt and from hurting. She stopped trusting people and justified every reason for hating every single person in her life with lies she told herself. Eventually, after months of convincing herself of these lies, she began to believe them. She closed herself off from the world, shutting down her feelings and her heart. She had always been a bit of a loner, so really that didn’t bother her so much. In fact, she got used to being alone pretty fast. She actually enjoyed being alone and being able to have her own time to herself. She liked not having to worry about other people’s feelings, finding time to hang out with friends, and about remembering birthdays. She liked being alone.

Or so she forced herself to believe.

Even now, as she stood on her driveway before her packed up car and stiff-postured parent’s, she couldn’t bring herself to look them in the eyes. After all, they were the ones forcing her to leave. They were the ones that came into her room one night and told her that living in California was toxic and was no longer a suitable place for her – like the boiling and dusty Tempe, Arizona was any better. None of it made sense, but she refused to dig deeper into their reasoning. She simply didn’t care enough to fight for what she truly wanted.

“Well, this it,” her father sighed, looking up at his daughter.

The blank look that had taken over her face the past few months caused a pang in his chest, a feeling of failure to protect his daughter bubbling up.

“Yup,” she answered shortly.

“We’re doing this for your own good, Florrie. We do love you, I do love you, despite what you seem to think,” her mother murmured, smiling at her softly.

“Okay.”

Her mother’s face fell and she looked over at her husband, who was watching his daughter with a steady look, an unreadable expression adorning his aging face.

“Right, well, your aunt knows you’re on your way. Let us know if make any pit stops, okay?”

Florrie nodded at her mother’s request, looking down at her chipped nails and examining her cuticles. She desperately wanted to beg them to let her stay, to not force her to leave the only home she ever knew. Sure, it hadn’t quite felt like home in a while, the lack of familial warmth making it feel more like a bed and breakfast. But it was where she had grown up; where she spent years discovering herself and the world around her. Any attempt to convince them to allow her to stay would be futile. They were doing what they felt was best for her and that despite what she may say or feel at this moment, that they would do anything that they believed would heal her.

She heard a defeated sigh and then the sound of footsteps, listening intently until they faded away. When she finally looked up, she saw her mother’s retreating figure, watching as the older woman disappeared into the house and was no longer visible. An awkward silence hung in the air between Florrie and her father before he finally spoke up.

“She loves you Florrie. She’s only doing what she thinks is best for you,” his gruff voice spoke. “As am I.”

Florrie snorted, dropping her hand and looking up at the sky through her black Ray Bans.

“Yeah, okay,” Florrie muttered with a slight disbelieving shake of her head.

“You don’t give her enough credit.”

“You give her too much credit.”

“Florrie,” he sighed, rubbing his forehead.

“I have to go,” she said, leaning up off the front of her car. “I’ll call you when I get there or something.”

“No ‘or something’. I want a phone call Florrie Marie,” he said sternly, using her middle name as though that made him sound all the more threatening.

“Sure, whatever you say, dad.”

Florrie stepped forward and hugged her father, breathing in his familiar scent of tobacco and cologne.

“I love you, baby girl.”

“I love you too, dad,” she said, pulling back. She turned and moved towards the driver’s side of her car, opening the door before hesitating. She looked back up at her father, her face blank and expressionless. “Tell mom I love her.”

Her father smiled knowingly, “I will.”

Florrie climbed into her car and slammed the door closed behind her, putting on her seat belt and starting up the vehicle. She backed out of the driveway and waved to her dad a final time before speeding down the road towards her new home.

Tempe, Arizona.