It Started with a Bet... (Watty Awards 2011)

It's just not fair

Chapter 16 – It’s just not fair.

I don’t know what’s wrong. I thought I was cured. I thought that everything was okay. I thought I was normal. But I’m not.

I spent four years working to hide my emotions, hide my feelings. Only think happy thoughts about Trina. And I managed so well. I stopped crying, I stopped caring. Sure, I stopped caring about pretty much everything, but it was an improvement, in a way. It got everyone off my back, because I knew I couldn’t trust anyone.

The last person I trusted with how torn I was over Trina’s death was Dr. Thornton. He told me that everything would be confidential, everything would be fine. But it wasn’t. He told my parents that I was having nightmares, and suggested that we try some new therapy of his. He tried to wipe my memory clean.

And so I learned not to trust anyone with how I was feeling. How could I, when I knew the consequences? It’s so much better to be allowed to remember in my head and pretend to have forgotten around everyone else than to truly try and be myself in front of everyone and suffer the consequences.

And then Trevor came along. Mr. Freaking “I’ll make a bet with you. Oh, wait, no, I actually want to be friends.” And I thought he was kidding, for the longest time. But then slowly…I let him in? Or he started figuring me out. Not always, obviously. He can’t always see through my act. But sometimes he knows. And that scares me.

Because now Dr. Thornton is back. And he’s been seeing me every other day and it’s making things worse. It’s bringing back memories of old sessions that permeate in my dreams. Sometimes I’ll wake up in a cold sweat after remembering just how it felt to pack up and leave. Just how it felt to know that to mention Trina’s name in my house would be followed by someone snapping the rubber band around my wrist. I was supposed to do that every time I thought about her, too. But I didn’t.

“Haley?” Trevor asks, “How do you know that doctor from before?”

And then all the memories start to come back again, and with them, the nausea. Like that other day, at his house. It’s like my body is trying to solve the turmoil going on in my head. I push him out of the house and make my way to the kitchen. A glass of water. That will calm me down. That will help me think a little clearer.

But as I drink from it, I feel nauseous again. The glass slips from my fingers and crashes to the floor while I dry heave heavily.

“Haley?”

How on earth did Trevor get inside?

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s get you to my house.”

“How did you get in?” I ask.

“Just be thankful that you adhere to the cliché of keeping your spare house key under the doormat,” he says, a small strained smile breaking through his features.

“I’m going to have to move that,” I mutter, trying to make myself seem more normal. When people are around, it’s easier to force myself to behave properly. I don’t want them seeing me like this, after all.

Trevor ignores my attempt at humor and brings me next door. He sits me down at the kitchen table.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

I try to speak, but my throat is dry. “Yeah,” I croak out finally. “Just a little thirsty. No big deal.”

“I heard broken glass,” Trevor notes, eyeing me skeptically as he walks over to the fridge.

“The glass just slipped,” I insist.

“You were throwing up.” He walks back over to me and hands me the glass of water, which I gratefully suck down.

I open my mouth to protest but shut it again, unsure of what to say. I didn’t actually throw up, but I’m not sure how to explain that.

“You’re sleeping here in the guest room tonight,” Trevor says, his tone not giving room for argument. I just look down and shrug. There’s a pause before he speaks again. “You didn’t get cut, did you?”

I study my hands quietly. “No.”

He sighs in exasperation. “Stop it, Haley.”

“Stop what?”

His eyes wander over my face. He looks tired. “Just…that.”

“That?”

“That…quiet thing.”

“So you want me to yell?”

“No!” He sighs again. “Never mind.”

I want to ask him what the hell he’s talking about, but right now I’m just tired. I want to go to sleep and not dream of my therapist. Who dreams of therapists? Psychos, that’s who. And I’m not a psycho.

“I’m tired,” I say. Trevor leads me through the living room and to the guest room.

“I’ll be sleeping upstairs,” he says. He glances around nervously and scratches the back of his neck. “Do you need me to…stay or something?”

“No.” I walk into the room and shut the door. It’s not that I don’t like Trevor, or that I don’t trust him to a certain extent. I’m just not used to this. Friendship, first of all. And trust, just in general. I don’t like being vulnerable to the whims of people, and that’s what trust forces on you. I don’t like it at all.

My mind starts to spin and I go to open the door, only to find Trevor sitting outside the door.

“I, uh, was lost in thought,” he mumbles, getting up quickly.

“I’m getting more water,” I say quietly.

“I’ll go clean up the glass at your house.” And then he pretty much runs out of the house. I take a deep breath. I know I’m scary when I’m like this. That’s why I had to force myself to act differently around people. If I act the way I feel, they all think something’s wrong with me. Which there isn’t. Or, at least, I would like to think so. But normal people don’t have attacks of nausea. I grab another glass of water and retreat to my room, not bothering to change or brush my teeth or anything before going to sleep.

_________________________________________________________________________________

Oh my goodness. We're at 241 now!

So something very strange happened to me today. I was wandering around campus and this enormous African American guy (and I mean enormous like a head taller than me and probably twice my weight or more) randomly approaches me and says in this very polite voice: "Hi, my name is (I think he said Fredrick?) and I'd just like to say that I like the way you look." And so I replied with an equally polite thank you and walked away. It was random! And slightly flattering, but at the same time it was a little...weird? Not like "oh, he's creeping on me" but more like "okay, did someone dare him to do that?" Or perhaps I just looked nicer today than I realized, lol.

Awkward Teacher Quote #16
"Listen up, Canada. I'm gonna go make your snow yellow, so shut up. (beat) Or brown. Have some Chipotle on my way up."

Just to be clear, I have nothing against Canada. Neither does my teacher, probably. I think he might have been cursing the fact that they escaped the economic crisis? Or maybe their universal health care? I'm not sure what it was... can't remember.