Camryn Quinn is finally getting what she wants...sort of. Moving into a dorm and away from her not so supportive father is a good first step, but like everything with him, it comes with strings. She must attend the college of his choosing for at lea...
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I let the door slam behind me as I enter the room and immediately flop myself onto the futon. I'm face down with arms at my side when my phone pings.
Dad: The pharmacy says your prescription has been ready for a week and you haven't picked it up. I will drop it off tomorrow, and transfer it to the campus pharmacy to make it easier on you.
I roll my eyes and send back a thumbs up emoji. Just another side effect of The Incident A daily dose of a drug whose side effects make me feel worse than better. To my dad though, it's like pressing an easy button. A once a day pill that fixes all. One day without it and he thinks I will become manic, a walking zombie ready to terrorize and ruin his life. If he bothered to ask, he would know that I elected to stop taking it the second I turned eighteen two months ago, the refill must have been something automatic.
A second text is waiting for me, which I can only assume my dad arranged after he finished speaking with the pharmacy.
Dr. Hartwell: Just checking in on my favorite patient named Camryn. I know you are making strides, but remember your words and thoughts can be your greatest strength or overwhelming downfall. No matter the idea, writing them out will be your best utilized skill.
I exhale, considering her words. I've always like Dr. Hartwell, unlike the other therapist I had in the past. Everything she would say in our sessions resembled something I could picture my mom saying. With or without my dad's push, Dr. Hartwell is always sending me little messages like this.
It reminds me of the way my mom always just knew when I needed her words of encouragement. It was like she had heightened senses like Spiderman being bitten by that radioactive spider, producing the spidey tingle when havoc hangs just around the corner. My mom's was programmed to notice a Camryn meltdown from a mile away. Super sprinting to me in a matter of seconds, a blur until suddenly she was at my side. Deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth, her voice so soothing it would coat me like a blanket.
I often imagine what would have become of The Incident if she had been there to talk me through it. To visit me, check in on me and my progress, to celebrate each milestone with me. But then the reminder hits me in the face again, like Spiderman accidentally swinging into a brick wall. If she had been here, the incident wouldn't have happened in the first place, or would have presented in a very different manner. Perhaps something more normal like a boyfriend my parents don't approve of or secretly getting a tattoo that would make my grandmother pray for me daily.
I reread the text and contemplate how I would even begin to sum up the past few days. I've nearly survived two weeks of college classes. Not that the first week counts, if only to remind us that universities don't abide by the whole Go Green movement with the amount of paper wasted on lengthy syllabi handed out in unnecessarily long first lessons that could have been an email.
