Daisy.

I didn’t have a car, even though I could afford one and had my license—sporting an awkward grin with half lidded eyes—just because I never really saw the need for one. I was kind of nervous the way it was and I didn’t think it’d be the best idea if I had one, just because it might be a little dangerous. But until my visit to New York City, unless we were either on the train or the subway or in the car, I walked everywhere. I didn’t go out much, so it wasn’t a big deal. But the more I thought about it, I realized that having a car would actually be kind of nice. I wouldn’t have to walk everywhere, and Phoenix was heading into a heat wave, and who knew how long it would last.

Having a car sounded nicer and nicer.

So, one morning I took a cab to a used car dealership downtown after I paid a trip to the bank. I wasn’t looking for anything fancy. After walking around the scorching hot, bright parking lot for an hour or so, I settled on a Volkswagen Beetle. It was cheap and I liked driving stick-shift cars more than automatic anyway. It kept me focused, and Valentina was the one who taught me how to drive stick, so it was a tiny homage to her. It was green with black seats. The air conditioning actually worked, so that was a bonus too. I lived alone so I didn’t need a bunch of space. It wasn’t too expensive and it ran well, so I didn’t see a problem with it. I went to the gas station and filled the tank, then took the long way home.

And the whole time, I thought of Dash and our argument of sorts. Why didn’t he see that I was trying to help him? Why? What didn’t he understand about that? What was so hard about it? Why couldn’t he just give up like everyone else had?

Was the risk really worth it? Maybe being alone was the best thing for me, seeing as I had a penchant for destroying every good thing that ever happened to me. Maybe that was what I deserved, and if it was, I couldn’t keep stringing him along anymore. No matter how much it hurt to let him go—the thought was enough to have tears burning my eyes—I had to. I had no other choice. But maybe, just… maybe, it was worth it. Maybe we were worth fighting for.

Maybe.

Maybe this was real and maybe he was right and maybe I was scared—but maybe I was right and I’d just hurt him like I warned him I would. I stopped at a stop light behind two other cars and reached into my back pack, pulling out my wallet.

I knew what I had to do.

I drove downtown and stopped in front of a brown brick building, parking across the street. I turned off the car and fixed my hair in the mirror, willing myself to relax. He probably had a patient, but then again, he probably didn’t, so I wouldn’t be gaining or losing anything if I went in to see. I could wait. It wasn’t like I had anything else going on anyway.

I looked at the appointment card and then up at the building before sighing and walking inside, narrowly dogging the cars that zipped down the street. I took the elevator, a jittery, nervous mess. The office wasn’t really all too obvious, a fifth floor clinic in the nicer part of downtown Phoenix. The inside was comfortable enough, open and wide and airy, with windows that spanned from the ceiling to the floor. I looked out of them and past the doctor, bringing my thumb to my lip to gnaw at the already frail nail.

Dr. Thredsen sat patiently behind his desk with a notepad and a blue pen, a nondescript tape recorder sitting on his desk. He said it helped him keep track of his patients’ progress. One hand sat over the other, his wedding ring catching the light from the sea foam green lamp on his desk.

I kept biting my thumbnail anxiously, sitting across from him in one of his big plushy chairs, sinking into the mustard yellow cushions.

“How have you been?” I looked at him and tried to smile a little. He was young, smart, and kind of good looking, but he was my therapist, and married, so nothing could really happen. It wasn’t like I visited him often, just when I needed more sleeping pills or when I needed advice or just to talk to someone. “What’s new?”

“There’s a boy,” I said bluntly, unable to think of any way to skirt around the issue. “And he’s perfect.”

“A boy?” I nodded quickly, letting my hand drop from my mouth. “Talk to me about him,” he asked as he started to scribble something down. “What’s his name?”

“Dash.” I gnawed on my bottom lip. “He’s a student at the university, and he’s sweet and kind and really, um, well, wonderful.” I paused. “And I think he likes me. A lot.”

“Do you feel the same way?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged, picking up the sleeve of my shirt when it slid off my shoulder bashfully. “I don’t—I mean—Yeah, I guess I do.”

“Does he make you happy?”

“Yes,” I answered, a small blush on my face.

“What’s the problem?”

“I hurt him and I don’t mean to and I don’t want to, but I do.” The doctor nodded. “I mean, I don’t hit him or anything but it’s kind of the same thing, sort of? Isn’t it? He wants to help me. He thinks he can fix me or change me or whatever, I don’t know. He thinks he can.” I bit my lip. “He’s just trying to help me. I know that. And I know he can’t, but he doesn’t, and I keep pushing him away and I don’t mean to. I tell myself I won’t, but I do.”

“I know it’s hard, Daisy, but you have to trust people. You have this big, strong wall around yourself. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, you know? I mean, it protects you and that’s all fine and dandy, but sometimes, it can drive people away. And you could end up alone, and I don’t think that’s what you really want, is it?”

“No, but I can’t help myself.”

“Does this upset him?”

“I think so. I think it’s only a matter of time before he leaves, you know?”

“Why do you say that?” He frowned at me, setting his pen down.

I sat quietly for a few seconds, trying to stop fidgeting enough to answer his question. It was something that kept me up at night, sometimes.

“Because I don’t deserve him and it’s only going to last for so long before he realizes that he can and should do better than me, and he’ll leave and I’ll have feelings for him and it’ll just be a mess,” I admitted softly.

“Do you have feelings for him now?”

“Kind of, yeah,” I admitted sheepishly, rubbing my nose.

“Do you think he has feelings for you?”

“I hope he does.”

He paused, taking off his glasses as he brought a hand to his mouth and thought.

“Sometimes, we go through certain things, you know? Really horrible, terrible things like what you went through, for example. Life has a funny way sometimes of rewarding us with something good to counter all the bad.” He fixed his glasses. “And I think that maybe, you know, he could be that, for you.”

“You think?”

“Yes. I think that if you just trusted him a little, maybe, you’d see that trusting others isn’t really that bad. And if you’re afraid that he’ll just hurt you or use whatever you say against you, tell him something small so if he does, it’s not a big deal and you can carry on.” He smiled at me. “I don’t think he will. He sounds like a nice young man.”

“He is.”

After the session ended, I decided that I’d go talk to Dash. I had to see him. Dr. Thredsen thought that I had to talk to him and just put everything on the table now, and if he left, well then he wasn’t worth it after all, but that he probably wouldn’t do anything like that. It would be better to know sooner than later, he told me, and I guessed he was right. Later might have just been a little too late.

So I drove there, panicking and freaking out because what if he told me he never wanted to see me again? What if he decided he was done with me? What if he laughed in my face? What then? What if Dr. Thredsen was wrong? The drive to Dash’s house felt agonizingly slow, even though it really only took me about twenty minutes. When I spotted his house and his car in the driveway, I almost sped off. I stayed though, because if I was already there, I might as well have just done it and gotten it all over with.

I rubbed my wrists against my shorts and closed my eyes, breathing deeply.

Everything was going to be okay in the end.

If it wasn’t okay, it was because it still wasn’t the end.

It was going to be okay.

I was going to be okay.

I repeated this until I felt calm, then stepped out of the car, shutting the door behind me. It was going to be okay, I told myself as I walked up the steps, wringing my hands together. It was all going to be okay. Eventually.

Hopefully.

I rang the doorbell and stepped back, rocking back on the heels of my shoes. I had to figure out what to say and how to say it, and if I should have even said anything. I shook my head. Of course I had to say something. I was already there, and I could hear someone walking towards the door so it was too late to back out anyway.

Sunny opened the door, a lazy, crooked smile on his face. Marina poked her head in and grinned, waving at me.

“Hi,” I said nervously, waving at them.

“Come in!” Marina exclaimed, practically pushing her boyfriend out of the way as she tugged me inside. She hugged me tightly, sighing. “I was worried about you.”

“I’m okay,” I said as she pulled away.

“What brings you by?” Sunny asked.

“I just wanted to talk to Dash, if he was home… ” I trailed off, growing nervous again. “If he’s not, it’s okay, I can just—”

“He’s upstairs, studying for a test,” Marina said, curling up on the couch with a bowl of popcorn. “Did something happen?”

“No, I just, er, wanted to talk to him.” I rubbed the back of my neck awkwardly and she grinned, wriggling her eyebrows at me.

“Have at it. We’ll be here,” she giggled. I walked towards the stairs, pushing my hair behind my ears. It was going to maybe blow up in my face, but maybe it wouldn’t and maybe I wasn’t giving him enough credit. Or maybe I was giving him too much. I didn’t know and I wanted to, desperately.

The door was wide open. Books were spread out around him, papers scattered on the bed and on the floor. He was sitting cross-legged on the bed, leaning over his books with a highlighter cap in his mouth as he highlighted something on the page he was reading from a thick textbook. He looked up at me and I wanted to look down but couldn’t, pinching the crook of my arm as I met his eyes.

“Daisy,” he said quietly, tilting his head to the side. “What—”

“I cut myself a lot,” I blurted out. “Like, all the time. It’s kind of a problem. I cry all the time. I’m a wreck. I’m a mess. I try really hard to be normal and I can’t be, not at all. I try too hard. I push too much. I cling. I’m going to have great days and I’m going to have really, really bad days. I don’t know how many I’ll have of either, to be honest. I don’t know much of anything, actually. And I say that I don’t want to be alone because I don’t, not really, but I am because I push everyone away. I’ll always be alone, I think. I don’t know. I can’t trust anyone. I have issues, okay? And I know this, and now, you do too. Someday you’ll know all of it and why and how messed up I really am. I was okay by myself, I thought I really was, and then I met you, and then—I—I just—I don’t know. You’re just changing everything and I don’t know why but I’m kind of okay with it, actually. You’re so wonderful and kind and sweet and you don’t deserve to be treated the way I treat you, and one day you’ll realize that. Or maybe you won’t, I don’t know, and if you don’t, great, because I don’t really feel like losing you anytime soon. I don’t trust people because I don’t think that I should, but you’re the exception, Dash.” I stopped short, biting my lip. “I’ve always been kind of a realist and I don’t believe in things like this because they never last. The problem is I can’t let go of this in front of me here. I want to try, because even if it doesn’t work out, no one can say I didn’t.” I wiped at my eyes, laughing a little. “I’m sorry that I’m a mess. You deserve to know because you’re the only exception and I don’t want you to give up on me.”

He set down his highlighter, shoulders falling as he looked at me, moving his books out of the way.

“Come here.” He opened his arms and I walked over to him, sitting down in his lap. Tears spilled over as I looked at him, blinking quickly as his thumbs brushed the hot tears away. “Don’t cry, Daisy. I’m not going anywhere.”