Jovie & Bash

Ten || Aggrieved

|CHAPTER TEN|

My first day back to my final year of school began and ended with my mother. She woke me that morning, her orange perfume waking me before her voice could. She ran through a checklist at the front door: backpack, notebooks, folders, pencils...She had it down better than I did. Like always, before I left she reminded me to be polite and to take advantage of my opportunities. Then, I was off to school, mind turning like the pedals of my bike.

The day went slowly, each teacher repeating the same things in my ears, my counselor reminding me of everything I would need for each college application. He seemed surprised that none of the schools I chose were in state. I just smiled and left.

I could already feel the shift in myself. It turned from tempted curiosity in human desire to focused thirst in the pursuit of knowledge. My future depended on my success here, and with all of their tools hanging in my reach, I was eager to pull them off the shelf and start building without interruption.

The mere idea of taking time out of my day for Bash felt overwhelming, so although I didn’t want to, I pushed him to the very back of my priorities. Summer had fooled me into thinking our time wasn’t enough, I realized that the night before when all of my fears began to consume me. Now, on my first day back into my routine—back into the person that I was, I knew I’d been stubbornly foolish. My emotions were too conflicted. I’d let it all get the best of me. I lived too wholly in the moment.

Bash would soon become frustrated with my disinterest and leave. That’s what he was supposed to do, and I was counting on it. I always left the official cutting of the ties to the other person. It was less painful to put distance between us until nothing was there to feel when the other person walked away completely. Maybe I was too much of a coward to do it myself, maybe a part of me knew it wasn’t necessary. I isolated myself. I was scared of disappointing them. It’s the only thing I knew how to do with all of my relationships.

When I returned home at the end of day, Quinn was by my side, walking while I biked at a painfully slow pace. She radiated a certain spirit that I was jealous of. She was happily oblivious to everything I noticed. She chatted away about nothing in particular as we drew closer to our destination. Only the screeching of the chickens kept me conscious enough to pay attention to her words. I would lapse, otherwise, hide away in myself.    

“You look awful,” she said when we stopped in front of her house. It was the first time she had turned to look at me since we started our trek back home. “Are you feeling okay?”

I sat back and forced a smile. “I’m fine.”

Her eyes narrowed like a lie detector test started blaring the moment the sentence left my mouth. “You’re doing it.”

“Doing what?” I asked defensively.

“That thing where you think so hard you create a crisis that isn’t even there.” She placed a hand on her hips. “I can see it on your face.”

I swallowed hard and looked up the street where the Pea Shucker was happily singing while opening pods for no reason at all. How could any sane person let their life fall directionless? How could they joyfully go about doing things that aren’t worthwhile? I gritted my teeth.

“You always get this way in the beginning of the school year. Just get settled. I’m sure whatever you’re freaking out about will pass,” Quinn spoke again as she hiked her backpack up. “See you tomorrow.”

With that she turned away and headed inside. I sat there a moment longer, listening to the Pea Shucker and the squabbling chickens, trying to let Quinn’s words sink in. She’s right. I was panicky in the beginning of the school year. Always had been. It’s the time of the year where I dropped everything to focus on what I deemed most important—and I never understood why nobody else got that way. While my anxiety peaked, everyone else seemed cool and collected.