If You Call

Grant Lake

If I was meant to stay in Rosewood, Oregon, than I would've been happy while I was there. However, everything about that small town crushed my soul into smithereens. I couldn't feel a thing in Rosewood, so I took my parents' advice and moved an hour away to Grant Lake for a change of scenery. I packed all of my clothes into the trunk of my red 1999 Honda Civic as my best friend Joy, clad in a rosy red sundress and black flats, fiddled with the keys to the U-Haul that would transport my futon, small couch, rugs, dining room table, chairs, coffee table and my beloved desk. I tugged at the sleeves of my grey sweater that hung over my black tank top, my black knee-length skirt billowing over my grey tights. My combat boots clunked as I rocked from heel to toe. I knew my apartment was going to be small, but I hoped these (mostly) recently acquired furniture items would make it feel more homey. I looked over at Joy with a smile plastered onto my face, and closed my trunk.

"You ready for this?" my mom asked me, putting a trembling hand on my shoulder, probably to steady herself rather than to comfort me. 

I hugged my mom and sighed. 

"As ready as I'll ever be, I guess. It's a lot of change."

My mom nodded, and held my shoulders as she stepped back, planting a kiss on my cheek. I teared up; damn I was going to miss her. 

My dad moved to Minneapolis about a year ago, so I had time to adjust to his absence. But having lived at home alone with my mom for a year, her and I had gotten closer than ever, and I would've been lying if I said I wasn't going to miss having her around. I stepped toward my car and called my dad to let him know I was leaving and on my way to my new apartment. He wished me luck. I opened the door to my car as I hung up, sitting in the driver's seat and inserting the keys into the ignition.

Joy tapped my hood and I looked up at her, tears welling in my eyes. She gave me a thumbs up, which I returned, putting on a smile to reassure her that I was fine. I turned the key and the engine started, albeit a little loudly and a little hesitantly. Joy stepped into the small U-Haul and started it up; I could smell the diesel as its engine came to life. I pulled out of the driveway first, my heart racing as I tried to hold onto my composure. My GPS spoke mechanically to me as I drove. I looked in my rearview mirror at Joy in the U-Haul behind me, and at my house as my mom, tears streaming down her wrinkled face, waved at Joy and me as we drove off.

I turned up the radio about 20 minutes into the drive to drown out the noise of the freeway that was bustling with cars, vans, trucks, and semi-trucks. I turned my GPS off as Joy passed me to drive in front of me. She said it would be best, because we had set up a system; in the case of a panic attack or other mental emergency, I would flash my headlights at her and we would both pull over until I was calm enough to drive. Considering this had already happened once 10 minutes into the trip, I was glad she had the wit to come up with this plan.

I was hoping I wouldn't experience another attack into the drive, but sure enough, after an ambulance had screamed past most of the cars on the freeway--about 40 minutes in--I had to flash my lights and pull over. Joy pulled over right in front of me and tossed open the passenger side door to my car. How did she get over here so quick? I thought. She plopped in the seat next to me and looked at me. She was waiting to see whether or not I wanted to be physically consoled or not. I pushed the seat back and leaned forward, nodding in her direction. She reached a hand out and massaged my back, as I lay my head in my hands. 

"What's going on, Teddy?" She asked, her thumb pressing into the muscles along my spine.

I sighed and looked over at her. 

"What if I'm not doing the right thing, Joy? What if we don't get there? What if this is all a mistake, I don't want to move to Grant Lake and have this fucking apathy and loathing and depression get worse." I admitted.