I took the last medication from the wall mounted cabinet in my bathroom as suggested by my therapist before. Honestly I was keeping this for a significant meltdown. I actually got that notion from a terrible show I watched a long time ago. I’m finding extra stuff that I didn’t realize were still around, given that I haven't opened this in years. I placed the pill on a tiny wrap of tissue paper that reads “Don’t open.” I'm having second thoughts whether to take this now or save it for another time, but how will it change things for the next times? I’ll have to go through it again and I'm aware I’ll end up needing this at some point.
After taking the pill, I switched off the lights and climbed into bed. I find this weather quite pleasant. The gentle patter of raindrops on the roof or windowpane creates a natural light noise that is both soothing and meditative. Unlike the harsh noises of the outside environment, the rain’s consistent, soft murmur creates a tranquil backdrop that helps me be in a brief peace. The intense winds can be a troublesome now and then, but it's not so bad when it stops. Now that my neighbor's children have a reason to stay inside, I can finally escape the noise they usually make.
I was startled when the door opened and Laurel showed up with her things. Her clothes are clearly damp, along with her belongings are soaked. “I hate this rain.” As she headed to the bathroom to probably change, I couldn’t help but wonder if she noticed me lying in bed. She probably did.
“Is your dad heading out somewhere?” She asked from the bathroom. “Have you talked to him?”
“I did.” She quickly peered outside the door.
“Are you messing with me again?”
“I’m not.” I turned around to face the window. Looking through the rain-speckled window, the world outside appears to be both distant and intimately close. I’m hoping to catch some sleep at this moment. It would be a missed opportunity to skip a long nap during a nice rain. But considering Laurel's presence, she would likely talk my ear off until I get annoyed.
After changing into her new clothes, she promptly sat down on the bed beside me. “I can’t quite determine if the talk was worthwhile.”
It’s irrelevant now because it's clear he’s not prepared for it. At least now I understand that just because he opened up to me for the first time, it doesn’t mean we can finally address the things we should have discussed years ago. “I'd rather not talk about it.”
“Okay.” She pulled a paper from her bag and presented me with a piece of paper featuring a “Twilight Dance” print. Because I knew nothing about it and wasn’t interested, I just shut my eyes and ignored it. “You’re coming with me to this.” This is the reason she’s reluctant to talk about the conversation, even though she cares about it deeply.
“What is a Twilight Dance?” I asked while keeping my eyes closed.
“The group and I entered a dance competition at college and I want you to be present.” She said, sounding very excited. Every time I say no to Laurel, I know she’ll follow with persistent attempts to convince me. She’s convinced that attending events like these will cheer me up, despite knowing I struggle with participation. And honestly, I’d rather not reply to her because regardless of how firmly I decline, she’ll just say whatever it takes to persuade me. Like when she asked me to attend this festival she’s been talking about with her friends for the past week on the phone. I was relieved that whenever she brought it up, I would drift off to sleep. It doesn’t stop there. She would show up at our house unannounced just to beg me to come which led me to begin locking my bedroom door. It was disturbing to see her climbing the ladder just to enter my room. I finally began saying yes but I would end up staying home instead, changing my mind at the last minute. “Cari—”
“You already know the answer, Laurel.”
“It's a once-in-a-lifetime event during college, I won’t have another chance like this. You know that I focus too much with my academics.” She justified.
I continued to keep my eyes shut. “I'll check it out in a video instead.”
“No, This time you need to see me perform live. The excitement will be different.” I kept shaking my head at her. The next thing she did was turn on the lights which only frustrated me further. “I’m not going anywhere until you go, Cari.”
“Can you turn it off?”
“Say yes and I will.”
“I’m tired, I need to—”
“Tired of what, exactly? All you ever do is stay here—”
“Fine, I'll go.” Her expression shifted, though it remained doubtful.
“How can I be sure you're not lying this time?” She lifted her eyebrow. I’ll give this a try and if I don’t like it, I’ll just back out again. I wouldn’t be so harsh if she would just respect my decisions.
“I’ll be there. Can you turn it off now?” When she finally did, I let out a relieved sigh.
“I’ll give you a reminder in a week so you can get ready!”
Laurel chose to go downstairs to complete her schoolwork. She’s in college while I’m not. She urged me to sign up with her, but I’ve decided not to complete college anymore. Even though I realize Mom would want me to continue, it’s not possible since I haven’t completed high school. This is a choice Laurel ensured I was on board with, as I want to avoid any more regrets. As of now there's nothing really much for me. Sometimes it feels bothersome when I think I’m just like my father, but this isn’t about him. I don't see any opportunity for me to attend a university and perhaps there’s no chance for me in anything at all.
After an hour of struggling to fall asleep, I finally went downstairs hoping Laurel had left so I could clean up in peace. However, she ended up cleaning the living room for me. “You almost scared me, Cari.”
“I hate when you do this.” I said to her.
“I’m just trying to help.” I dislike that she feels the need to come all the way to our house to keep me company and clean up, when it’s our responsibility. Despite my shortcomings as a friend, she always manages to ease things between us and I don’t know how to reciprocate. I have no idea how to acknowledge her for everything she’s done for both me and my dad over the years. “You want any food? I'll make something.”
“Yeah, sure.” I waited for her to finish preparing the food and then had a brief chat with her once it was ready. As the conversation progressed, we delved into more personal matters. I shared some recent challenges I had been facing, and her empathetic response provided a sense of relief I hadn’t realized I needed.
