365 Cups of Coffee

Nineteen: Raspberry Tiramisu Frosticcino

    Waking up on September 2 is by far the hardest thing I’ve done since the shooting.  I was so nervous the night before that my sleep was broken by tossing and turning, and by the time I fell asleep, it was almost three in the morning.  Now, it’s six.  I don’t even think I could go to sleep if I tried, even now, so I pull myself out of bed and go through the motions of a shower.  Wash my hair, towel it off, dry it, brush it out.  Long, black.  I slip into the dress and necklace I wore to Raven’s dance so I’ll have a sliver of Daniel with me to hold on to throughout the day.

    Standing in front of the mirror, I sigh to myself.  Today will mark the first day in a new school.  I feel like a coward for running away.  I know Daniel’s right.  I know leaving Dylan and Ryanne and all the rest of my friends hanging was awful.  I run the brush through my hair one more time before putting on a smudge of dark pink-red lipstick.  This time around, the makeup makes me feel fake.  All summer, I’ve hardly worn any makeup, apart from that day at Raven’s party.  Now that I’m wearing some again, and for a different purpose . . . It feels like I’m hiding something.  How fitting.  I fill in my lips entirely with the color.

    But I don’t stop with the lips.  I fill in my entire face until not a millimeter of my actual skin remains uncovered.  Silver eyeshadow.  Winged eyeliner.  I look nothing like myself.  Satisfied, I leave the bathroom, bringing the lipstick with me so I can fix it if the need arises. 

    “Hey, I’m going to go to Higher Grounds before school,” I call up to my parents.

    I hear the pounding of footsteps on stairs before I can sneak my way out.  My mom and dad race over to me and scoop me up into a hug that lasts far longer than it should.  It reminds me again of what happened.  Again that today isn’t any normal day, that I’ll need to be strong.  And it doesn’t help.  I think my dad senses that, because he pulls away, and I notice he taps my mom’s arms to do the same.  She pulls away as well.

    “Oh, mom,” I say.  “I forgot to ask.  I know it’s asking a lot, but can I borrow your cell phone?  In case I need to call one of you today.  Please.”  The desperation in my voice isn’t entirely false.

    She nods, but says, “Aspen, don’t you think it’s time to get a new phone for yourself?”

    She’s right, and I know it.  I can’t live the way I’ve been living.  At some point, I’m going to have to go back to the way I used to be.  And yet . . . I’m so much happier without all the technology.  It forces Daniel and I to get together a lot more than I know we would if I could just text him.  Maybe . . . Maybe living without a phone is something I can do forever.

    “Can you get me a plan with only calling?” I ask.

    “I don’t know, Aspen.  We have a family plan,” my mom says.  “But if you want, I can get you a flip phone.  If you want to take this all in small steps.”
    I nod, and she smiles.

    “Okay, good,” she says.  “It’s settled then.  I’ll get you one on the way home from work.  You can use mine for now, of course.  But when you get the phone, you should consider calling up Ryanne.  I saved all your contacts for you when you got rid of your phone.”

    I know she can see the objection in my eyes.  I can’t believe she would save them when I wanted so badly to just get rid of them, forget them forever.  But she shakes her head and smiles.

    “I hope you know that starting over isn’t the same as running away,” she says.  “We didn’t move here so you could run away.  We moved so you could start over.”

    A warmth spreads its way through me.  If she’s right in that aspect, maybe I can live in peace for the next three years.  Maybe I’ll feel better from now on because of it.  I nod, take her phone, and hug her once more.  And for the first time since the shooting, I can see her really smile, even though I know, behind the layers, even she is terrified for my safety.  I feel so glad that she knows she can’t strangle me.  So glad that she’s allowing me to move on.  I take a deep breath, and open the doors.