Other than accepting the medication he sent to my dorm, I’ve spent the time lying listlessly and staring out the window at blowing leaves. I’ve skipped classes and ignored Ripp and JJ’s text messages before finally shutting my phone off. Sleep only comes when I can’t keep my eyes open a second longer. It’s dreamless…
But this morning, I woke up with renewed purpose spurred on by a memory.
“Mom! Mom! Come look at this… I did it! I got in!” Taking the stairs two at a time, I look down at my acceptance packet from Cornell University.
She peeks out of the bathroom while wiping her glasses. “You did?” she asks in a shrill, excited tone.
I start jumping up and down, startling our dog, who yips in surprise. Mom grabs my forearms as she begins to jump with me.
“I knew you would!”
Still buzzing with excitement, I dial Siler, joy bursting from me.
“You’re in,” he says as he answers.
“How did you know?”
“You are… am I right?” He laughs as he puts his phone on speaker.
But that was only the start. As I get dressed for the day, the past that felt removed… stolen from me, trickles back in.
Are they working? The meds must be helping.
I even fish around in a desk drawer and pull out a sketchpad, the urge to draw irresistibly strong. Drawings I’d done on cardstock fall out, each with little notes meant to cheer people.
Memories flood me of tucking the notes into bags, lockers, books… hoping to lighten someone’s day or give them hope. I remember how much I loved seeing the recipients read them and then tuck the notes away, keeping them like some kind of talisman.
As I sit cross-legged on my bed, I sketch more, write more notes. I forget my problems. For two hours I remember who I am: Elizabeth Ahrens, an artist, an eternal optimist, a girl who looks on the bright side. Who doesn’t give up.
Not on myself, not on anyone.
Siler! I jump up grabbing my phone to call him. If he doesn’t answer, I can’t blame him. I’ve grown distant.
He answers on the second ring. “Bizzy, is that you?”
A flood of apologies follows, a rushed explanation of feeling better, of remembering more. I skirt over the omissions I made before leaving home. I settle back as he tells me about Duke; the long practices, the roommate who makes curry every day, howmuch he brags about his best friend, Biz, who drew all the Star War characters for his sixteenth birthday, displayed with pride in his apartment.
I cry… happy tears for the most part. But I’m scared that I’ll lose them again. The memories… the vibrance I feel today.
Like I’m not dying.
Like I’m a normal college student with a long future ahead.
“Come watch us play West Point in a couple of weeks, please? Pretty, pretty please, Biz.” He pleads with me. “You can ride with Mya. I think it’s a three-hour drive.”
That sounds… unpleasant at best.
But I want to see him so badly, I relent. “I’ll be there.”
“How’s she been? Mya, I mean.”
“Umm… so I haven’t talked to her since she picked me up. I don’t think she likes me much.” But the feeling is mutual.
Siler sighs. “Give her time. She’s an acquired taste, but once you know her better you’ll see how loyal she is. She’ll grow on you.”
“I trust you, I do. It's just hard to believe after meeting her. I guess I’ll proceed with snacks and caution.”
Siler lets loose a belly laugh. God, I’ve missed hearing that. If my time is limited… I need to use it better. That includes keeping Siler and my parents close. The sulking is done. What good was it doing, besides making me more miserable?
