Stupid Dreamers

Chapter 17: Rushed

Chapter 17: Rushed

Someone was knocking on my door.

I slowly opened my eyes, squinting as the bright light that shone through the tall windows made it hard to see the rest of my room. I sat up in bed, stretching and looking down at myself utterly confused.  I was still wearing the outfit I traveled in. Wait a minute...

God damn it I fell asleep last night didn’t I? I got absolutely none of my travel organizing completed, or anything productive in that matter done yesterday. I have to get it done this morning then, if I have enough time anyways. I turned towards the night stand and glanced at the clock that sat on the nightstand reading 6:30 A.M.

Fuck, I’m already late.  I didn't even have enough energy to make an alarm, which I meant to do last night along with all the productive events I was supposed to do. I could already feel the anxiety creep up on me, so I had to get going. 

I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and stood up, sprinting towards the door and opening it to reveal Carter standing there, wearing a simple navy dress and flats. She pursed her lips and me, then crossed her arms over her chest in an annoyed manner.  Now I feel bad for making her stand her for so long, but right now, my feelings aren't on top of my morning priority list.  

“Hey, you must not have heard me earli-“ I turn away from her and run back to my suitcase, digging clothes out and organizing them by day in the empty dresser drawers. Pants, shirt/jacket, then set the matching jewelry and other accessory on top of the dresser. Clothes in the drawers, accessories right on top above the designated outfit. Shoes are also in chronological order of my schedule; they are lined up in the closet. 

“What are you doing?” She asks me, walking into the living area and questioning my rushing about the room. I pulled my toiletries out of my suitcase and ran past her into the bathroom.

“I never did this last night,” I tell her, mostly to myself since I was so mad that I never got this done.  I set out, in order, my tooth brush, toothpaste, brush, comb, eye liner, eye shadow, mascara, blush, concealer, and finally my razor along the counter.  I kneeled down to make sure they were all perfectly aligned and the same exact distance away from each other and a certain distance away from the edge of the counter and the mirror.  If I didn’t have this done this morning, all I would think about it how my toothpaste is messing up the whole system by being half an inch away from my toothbrush instead of a full inch. Carter watches me warily from the doorway and studies my actions. I look up at her as she uses her manicured index finger to point at the bathroom counter. 

“Do you-“

“Yes,” I answer for her, already knowing the question.  I didn’t like to explain it to anyone, so I left it at that.  I wait for her to keep asking something else about it or simply say Why? like everyone else does when they found out about it.  It wasn't like I kept it a secret; it's practically impossible to do so.  You get the urges and the thoughts soaring through your head about everywhere, so why even try to hide it? 

“Babe, what are you doing?” Rick asked me. I look up from washing my hands for about the 10th time.

“What do you mean?” I looked up and smiled at him, as if nothing was going on.

“You’ve been standing at the sink for half an hour now,” He pointed out. I glanced down at my now red and raw hands being washed under the water.

“Do you have OCD Erin?” He finally asked. I thought it sort of rude for him to just blurt it out, but what else are you supposed to say to a girl who's been washing her hands for the past half hour? I tried to not look at him and refrained from answering by staring down at the sink faucet. I wipe my hands on my pants to dry them off, the burning yet familiar feeling of washing them for that long starting to pulse through my fingertips. When I finally looked up at his curious face, I bursted into tears and he immediately shushed me and enveloped me in his arms.