Page 105 of Girls Night
Take my Picture – Petra J. Knox
Chapter One
Mia
Hating myself was a full-time job. Whenever I tried to quit, my boss, Anxiety, tied me up and threw me back into the dark place. And when the main honcho, Adulting, knocked on the door, I had no choice. I had to go out, but never alone. Anxiety held my leash.
When I got my assistant’s message that he wouldn’t be able to run my errands today, I had hit a wall. Sure, it wasn’t Evan’s fault that he got sick and couldn’t come through for me. But still… That was logic, and logic didn’t live here in my head.
For almost an hour’s time, I paced up and down my studio apartment, stopping every few seconds to look out the window to the city streets below, and each time I did, my breath would catch in my throat. The thought of going out there was daunting as it always was. Time, people, things, the outside world, moved on without me, which I preferred, but not now.
I had to do this on my own.
After a shower, dressed and ready to go, I laid my hand on the door that led out onto Shirley Avenue. I paused, taking deep breaths, clutching my bag that held all the things I’d need while out and about. My feet, enclosed in brown leather boots, anchored to the floor, stabilizing me to the here and now. And with one last breath, I opened the door and stepped out, resetting the alarm and leaving my sanctuary, my home.
Fresh, cold autumn air caressed my face, bringing with it the scents of my youth—leaves falling, distant smoke from chimneys, the crispness of dry, cold soil. It was enough to settle me, and I found myself smiling just a bit because of it.
The first few blocks south were unremarkable. A few people passed me by on the wide sidewalk, lost in their own minds and hurrying to wherever they happened to be going, paying me no mind. I envied them with a hunger so great, it took my breath away. The cars that passed were quiet. The city wasn’t in that hectic time of day, thankfully. I watched my feet, every so often looking up to make sure nothing was ahead of me or to my right and left when I had to cross a street.
So far, I was doing good. Really good. Making head-way. The sky was clear and open, not compressing into an electric storm. North was north, right was right, and the ground was even and smooth. Sounds were as they should have been, not distorted, blaring, sinister.
And even though I felt the dread was still there, it was far enough away where I could separate myself from it. I was safe, I was in control. For now.
My first stop was the post office, where several important deliveries were ready and waiting for me. The whole business was brief and tidy. I collected my mail from the PO box, redirected the deliveries to my clients, and purchased some stamps. Relief, both physical and mental swept over me as I left and headed west into the shopping district a few blocks down. I was halfway through with my errands, and if all went well and as quickly as the first stop did, I’d be back home in twenty-five minutes or so, still beating the busy time by an hour.
It had been months since I’d ventured outside, and that last time was only because Evan couldn’t goforme to the gynecologist—as much as I would have wished it. That time had been horrific, the panic swelling and taking over. But as I walked into the Café Mint, I slapped the memory away with the same amount of force I used to open the door, causing a rush of air to stir my scarf and lift it up to smother my face.
The cafe was busy. A few customers were standing in line at the counter, and at least all but two of the tables were full. I chose the empty one close to the back and sat down, placing my bag on the table, and pulled out my work binder. My eyes refused to look around the room as I focused on my work and what I needed to do.
The café had served as a genius network for me in getting not only my name as a photographer out there, but also to garner customers; ordinary people with raw and authentic potential for what I happened to be working on at the time. I had used the café’s bulletin board as one of my primary advertisements for over three years now. Café Mint’s patrons catered to the more artsy city folk, which was my world.
Before I had gotten…worse, I was in this café at least twice a week. Now, though, it was Evan who did all my posting on the board and met with the manager, Diane.
Opening my binder, I took out the main copy I used weekly that featured my company name, phone number—business cell phone, of course—and what kind of work I was hiring for. At the bottom were serrated lines for prospective clients to tear off. I looked it over, checking to make sure all the information was up to date—just out of habit—and peeled off a neon pink sticky note, attaching it neatly onto the top. My hands shook as I dug into my bag for a sharpie, my mind aware of all the noise and smells in the room around me.
“Mia, is that you?” a shrill voice called from the table diagonally across from me.
I looked up from my searching and saw a pretty, younger woman holding a baby to her shoulder. Confused at first, I tried to smile, but the fear of her attention on me was so loud, so harsh, probably made me look like a crazy person. Which, I admitted, I was.
Her perfectly made-up face brightened. “Ashley, remember? Ashley Tellhum? From Bell Shoals High?” she asked, now looking away, distracted by the whimpering baby she was burping.
Ashley. The name immediately brought me back to ninth-grade, and with a snap of the finger, I was that girl again, the one filled with so much loathing, so much gray. And Ashley, one of the popular girls who I tried every semester take notice of me, looked exactly the same, just a bit older.
Before I could respond, some guy approached her—her husband, I presumed—and their attention was all on the baby, who had started wailing up a storm, and I was forgotten. My stomach clenched, and for a moment I thought I might get sick right here in this café filled with people, people who I felt were staring at me, their breaths blowing on the back of my neck.
I needed to leave. Now.
I quickly grabbed my things, shoving them into my bag, and headed to the bathroom in the back. The two stalls were thankfully empty, and I chose the one furthest back, shutting myself in. I covered the toilet with a few paper seat covers and sat down, clutching my bag to my chest.
The silence was welcoming but the panic was raging in me. All I needed was to calm down a bit, just breathe, just anchor myself.
Closing my eyes, I remembered Ashley and those days in school. For some reason, the only memory that was clear enough was that time on the school bus when Ashley told her best friend Stephanie how orange juice on an empty stomach was the best way to get out of first-hour. I had even tried it the next day. I don’t remember if it worked or not, though, because I ended up skipping the day entirely.
Seeing Ashley after all these years had officially brought my earlier good vibe down. Sure, living in the same major city I was born in, I was bound to run into people from my past. Most people didn’t recognize me, though. I wasn’t noticed then, and I wasn’t noticed now. I tried to see how Ashley saw me—small and thin, with big dark-blue eyes that were always wide and fearful. Pale skin, messy bun of tangled black hair. Bulky sweater, cheap scarf. No makeup.
The bathroom door opened as a woman who sounded like Ashley came in.“—damn spit up on my shirt. I’m in the bathroom, so I’ll have to put you on speaker, Steph.”
I quickly pulled my legs up and placed them against the door, hoping Ashley would think she was alone.
