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I slipped into one of the back seats in the auditorium. Taking out my notebook, I settled into listening to the lecture. Curiosity got the best of me, as well as hunger, and I opened the brown bag. There were two sausage kolaches. I took a bite and closed my eyes in delight. After two more bites, I put it back in the bag and focused on taking notes.
By the time class was almost over, my stomach started quivering, and sweat broke out on my forehead.Oh, no. As soon as we were dismissed, I was out the door and barely made it to the nearest bathroom before I threw up.
For the next several days, it was much of the same. I would walk to class, and somehow Dmitri would run into me on my way, holding a little brown sack. He would tell me to hear him out, while I would say I was running late. Then he’d hand me the bag of food and promised to see me later. Each day, brought me something different—one day donuts, another day breakfast tacos, then fresh fruit, and another time croissants.
When I’d get to class, I would give it a couple of bites. However, like clockwork, I would start feeling nauseated. Some days it would pass, other days, I had to sprint out of class to the restroom. Why did I keep eating it? Was he trying to give me salmonella?
By Friday, I was strolling around campus with Carly and Julian on our way to our classes. Suddenly, I felt an arm slide around my shoulder, and a familiar spicy mahogany scent teased my nostrils. I ignored how my foolish heart raced and stared ahead.
“No good morning? That’s rude.”
I rolled my eyes. “Good morning. What do you want?”
“I need to talk to you.” He had another small sack in his grasp.
“I’m late for class.”
“Liar. You don’t have class for another thirty minutes.”
I side-eyed him. “Calling me a liar? That’s rich.”
“Hey, can you give us a minute?” Dmitri looked impatiently at Carly and Julian, who both glanced my way in caution.
“Go on. I’ll catch up with you in a few minutes.” As I watched them walk away, I stepped out of his arm and asked, “What do you want, Dmitri?”
“I wanted to give you breakfast.” He handed it to me, and his knuckles brushed mine, and I to keep from biting my lip.
“Breakfast? I think you’re trying to poison me.”
His brows drew together. “Now why in the fuck would I do that?”
I shrugged, shaking my head. “Never mind.” I didn’t think he was actually trying to kill me, and for some reason, I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.
“You look tired.” He reached out and smoothed a stray curl behind my ear. “Maybe we should go grab coffee.”
“I’m fine,” I answered tightly. “I need to go.”
“Sorina.” He clasped his hands on my shoulder. “Give me a chance to explain.”
“Don’t do this to me.” I couldn’t do this right now. “I have to go. Julian and Carly are waiting for me.”
I tried to pull away, but he tugged me closer. Leaning in, he said softly against my cheek, “You can’t hide from me forever.”
Sorina
“Today, we’re going to delve into examples of how people deal with triggering events. Also known as defense mechanisms.” Dr. Feldman strolled over to the whiteboard and began to write a word in bold letters. “Repression.” She underlined it before turning to face the audience. “Can anyone tell me what it means?”
She inclined her chin at one of the eager beavers in the front row with their hands up.
“To unconsciously block out an unpleasant event in one’s past.”
Our professor nodded. “True. It also pertains to unconsciously pushing away difficult thoughts, feelings, and impulses that usually occur from traumatic events.” She ambled over to the podium. “For example, a grown man is afraid of water and never learned how to swim. It stemmed from his mother trying to drown him when he was a little boy, but he doesn’t remember that because he’d unconsciously blocked out the event.” She folded her hands. “The man doesn’t understand why he’s afraid. His memories didn’t simply disappear. It was manifested through a symptom. His fear of water.” Her head swiveled around the room. “Anyone else want to give an example?”
I stared down at my notebook, not wanting to draw attention to myself. Normally, I was willing to participate and answer questions, but not today. Something in this discussion was hitting too close to home. My tummy swirled with unease. I heard another student talking, but my pulse was strumming in my head too loud to pay attention.
I noticed Dr. Feldman walk back over to the board and scrawled out another word in all caps. “Suppression.” She scratched a dramatic line under the word. “Is when one consciously ignores or pushes away negative memories, emotions, or feelings, hoping they’ll go away. However, it’s been shown that those unwanted experiences only magnify.” She adjusted her glasses—and why did I feel like she was gazing at me? “In this case, the more one tries to force those memories away, the stronger they become. These experiences can manifest into, for example, bad dreams or nightmares. Or they could be manifested in actions. An example would be someone eating their feelings or, on the other end of the spectrum, controlling their food intake…”
A cold sweat broke out on my skin, and the room seemed to close in on me. She didn’t know. No one knew.
