Page 24 of Heartstrings & Horizons
I have class today, but I don’t think I can bring myself to get ready, much less crawl out of bed. I quickly sent off a text to one of my classmates to ask if I can borrow the notes later this week. Despite her confirmation that she’ll send themover tonight and wishing me a quick recovery, I feel a sense of guilt for lying to her. I’m not sick, at least not physically.
I’m not unfamiliar with depressive episodes, and there is little doubt that I’m experiencing one now. Ever since my non-date, I've felt a bone deep emptiness that I can’t quite shake. There’s also a longing there that I’m not ready to face.
In high school, my doctor prescribed me antidepressants, but they only made my mind foggy and I had trouble sleeping. Not wanting to take additional drugs for insomnia, I decided against medication. I don’t judge anyone for how they choose to manage their own mental health; I did what I thought was best for me at the time. Things have improved over the years, maybe as a symptom of growing up, and these days the episodes are few and far between, but when they are triggered, they hit me like a freight train.
I’ve learned, for me, the best way out is through. The call from mom wasn’t anything I hadn’t heard a million times before, but for some reason it’s been playing on repeat in my head alongside a torrent of other cruel words that have been hurled at me in the past.
For me, the worst part of depression is the deep-seated need to claw my way out of the darkness but not being able to even muster the energy to try. It feels like being thrown into the deep end with no life jacket and you never learned how to swim. It takes every bit of strength just to keep breathing.
I pick up my phone and google “Oak Ridge, Kentucky”. Cade told me how much he loves to go to the lake on his days off and I can see why — it’s beautiful. I start to daydream, imagining the stunning photos I could capture at the peak of autumn when the trees are all shades of auburn and bronze; when the last light of the evening sun is peeking through the branches. When I picture my future, I see a place like this: a small hallmark town with beautiful scenic views — and maybe a handsome brown-eyed bartender at my side. I’ve been wrapped up in Cade’s hoodie since Saturday. He never confirmed that it was his, but every cell in my bodyknowsit is.
I shouldn’t be having these thoughts about someone I can’t have but I sometimes wonder if I’ll ever get to experience those things — marriage, kids… home. I’ve always wanted to be a mom — I had no distinctive dreams about what my future career would be, but I wanted love and a family of my own. I’m sure I could unpack all of it with a therapist and hear about how my difficult childhood affected my desire to create a family, but I’m self-aware enough to figure it out on my own.
I didn’t fully understand until much later just how much photography had served as an outlet for me throughout my life. It started at the ice rink, when I would carry around a disposable camera at competitions and practices.
Then it graduated to a small polaroid camera when I would take summer training trips and stay with a host family. In high school, I saved top to buy a small digital camera to carry with me around school and on the weekends.
Eventually I joined the yearbook committee and got my hands on a real DSLR — it was heaven. Photography has always been a part of my life, peace among chaos. I never considered pursuing it as a career because it was always drilled into me that there wasn’t really money or a future to be had in art, so I’m studying history and English, hoping a career in teaching will somehow be fulfilling, despite feeling like a fundamental part of me is being stifled.
Lost in thoughts of the future, I drift off into a peaceful sleep with visions of a scenic Kentucky sunset; a small house on the lake with kids running around the yard, a dog hot on their heels and a cat peeking out through the curtains. There are 2 rocking chairs on the porch, side by side, my hand engulfed by a calloused palm, fingers intertwined, a look of utter contentment on my face. The man should be faceless, nameless, but he’s not.
Chapter 10
Cade
? This is me Trying - Taylor Swift
It’s been 2 days since I last heard from Paige. The bar is closed on Sundays so I spent the rest of the weekend with the guys before Dean headed off to his next job in North Carolina on Monday morning. I texted her a couple of times on Sunday and Monday, but there was no response. I’m sure she’s busy with school or something.
She’s not my girlfriend, so I have no right to be jealous, but damn if I wasn’t the picture of envy when she told us about her date on Saturday. Did I secretly hope it completely bombed? Absolutely. But I never would have wanted her to get hurt the way she did. She didn’t say much, only that the idiot stood her up, but I could tell she was upset from her somewhat dismissive messages – I should have called her. I can only hope she realizes he was never the right man for her, anyway.
The week goes by in a blur — sleeping in, closing shifts at the bar — just another rinse and repeat. Before I know it, it’s Friday — my birthday.Dean managed to get a quick turnaround on his last travel job so he’ll be back for good, and we’re having a get together at The Ridge with Miles, Dean, and Cara. I wondered if maybe Cara was the catalyst for Dean’s transition to virtual consulting, but I didn’t ask... not yet, anyway.
I’m hoping Cara decides to leave Jen at home — the last thing I need is her scowling at me on my birthday — but things seem to be going well for my friend and his girl, so if I have to put up with her attitude for one night, I’ll grin and bear it. He deserves to be happy. As for me, there’s only 1 person I wish I could see today, and it’s the one person I haven’t talked to in almost a week.
It’s 10pm, karaoke night at The Ridge, and this might have been the worst idea ever. There’s a short, balding guy in a sweater vest on stage absolutely butchering a George Straight song, Dean’s lips are glued to Cara’s, and Miles seems to have fucked off to God knows where with lord knows who. The bar’s weekend scene is infamous for its illicit affairs, which often unfold discreetly in the bathrooms and hidden corners of the parking lot. Miles better hope he doesn’t get caught with whatever towny he picked up this time.
I lift my glass in a silent toast to no one in particular, knocking back yet another shot, wishing I could be anywhere else, when my eyes snag on a head of wild curls at the bar. I know logically it can’t be Paige, but I can’t help the fleeting hope that momentarily quickens my heartbeat, until she turns her head and reality comes crashing down around me. As if I summoned her with my thoughts, my phone vibrates on the table.Paige.
“Hello?”
“Caaade?” someone slurs into the phone.
“Yeah, who’s this?”
I’m pretty sure if it’s not Paige, it can only be one other person. There aren’t very many people who could get their hands on Paige’s phone and get away with it — unless something is very wrong. Shit. My stomach clenches and I suddenly start to panic.
“Is Paige ok? What’s going on?”
“Paige? Oh yeah, she’s fine,” the voice slurs again. “Well, maybe not fine. She’s sulking,Cowboy.My best friend is really sad and I'm pretty sure you’re the only one who can fix her.”
“What do you mean? Is this about the date on Saturday?”
“Mags, what are you doing?” It’s a voice I could recognize in my sleep.
So it is the infamous Maggie on the phone.
“Hey Paigey-poo, your phone rang so I answered it,” Maggie lies effortlessly despite her inebriated state.
