Page 105 of Until the Ribbon Breaks

“I don’t know.” His eyes drop for a beat, and he shoves his hands into his pockets. “What about you?”

“I’ll be at home.”

His expression falls, and it has me thinking all sorts of new thoughts about what his days and nights look like, roaming around this town on his own. I can’t imagine how it must feel not to be welcome in your own home and to have to fend for yourself. Pity is the last thing he needs from me, so I try to smile for him.

“Call me later?”

He nods. “Yeah,” he says before pulling me in for another hug, and I suspect it’s more for his sake than mine.

Either way, I need the comfort too, so I accept it without comment.

HARLOW

“What about this?” my mother asks as she shows me a cropped sweatshirt with leopard print trim.

“Eww.”

She shakes her head, but before she hangs it back on the rack, she holds it up as if she’s actually considering buying it for herself.

“Mom, no.”

“Why not? It’s cute?”

“Trust me, it isn’t.”

I stroll around the clothing store she dragged me into, but there isn’t a single thing in here that I would be caught dead wearing. The pop music playing overhead is enough to give me cramps.

When my mom suggested we go shopping for back-to-school clothes, I didn’t put up a fight, which she was more than thrilled about. The thing is, for months, every minute of every hour has been consumed with activities. Even though I didn’t enjoy most of them, they still served to occupy space in my head. The constant schedules kept me from myself.

Now that I’m home, all I have is empty time.

Yanked from continual happenings, I’m no longer distracted.

Seconds diminish into mile-long minutes, allowing me to become reacquainted with the true depths of my despair.

So, I took her offer today with the hope that moving amongst the living would help fill some of the vacancy.

To say this past week hasn’t been extremely low would be a lie.

I force myself to get out of bed every morning, to brush my teeth, and put on fresh clothes. Food is poison to my body, yet I eat to fool my mom into thinking everything’s fine.

It isn’t fine.

I’m not fine.

During my last appointment with Dr. Amberg, he asked how the new meds were working. I should’ve been honest, instead, I lied as if everything’s okay. Truth is, I wonder if it’s the meds that are making me worse. It would be an easy thing to fix, but I’m terrified to let him know that I’mnotokay, terrified of what the consequence might be if he were to become aware of the truth.

It’ll fade though. This mood will shift—it always does.

I’m on the low end of low right now, but hopefully after school starts and I find my new routine, the hopelessness that’s drowning me should subside a little.

“Have you found anything worth trying on?” Mom asks as she weaves her way through the racks.

“They’re having a sale on socks,” I respond in lackluster humor. “The ones with tiny avocados all over them are dope.”

Unamused, she tilts her head. “Okay, fine. You aren’t into this store,” she says. “You can pick the next one, but at least let me buy you one thing today that isn’t an earthtone color.”

I pinch my face at the thought.

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