Perfecting Patience

I was in shock and I felt even worse because I had been dishonest with him. I should’ve taken that moment for what it was—the perfect opportunity to confess all and start over fresh with Zeke—but I couldn’t. My mouth formed the words, but I couldn’t push them onto my tongue. I just sat there and stared up at him like an idiot.

He sat next to me and smiled a guilty smile. “Do you forgive me?”

I wanted to scream. It was wrong. He shouldn’t be feeling like crap; I should. Reaching up and pushing his hair from him eyes, I leaned in and kissed him. It wouldn’t make everything better, but it made me feel better.

“Let’s just forget about it, okay?” I said.

I wanted to forget about it because technically, I was the one in the wrong. No, he shouldn’t have freaked out like that, and no, he shouldn’t have called me a whore, but at least his reactions were honest. Meanwhile, all I could think about were lies to tell him. I was being dishonest and it felt awful.

All the excitement and drama started to take a toll on me. My heart raced and I began to feel lightheaded. A panic attack was coming. They came at the most inconvenient times, but at least I had some kind of control over whether or not I’d let it happen.

“I’ll be right back,” I said as I stood and made my way to the bathroom.

I locked the door behind me and reached on top of the medicine cabinet where I hid a few Xanax in a sandwich baggy. I didn’t even bother swallowing the pill. Instead, I stuck it under my tongue and let it melt. It seemed to work faster that way, even if it tasted bitter and disgusting.

I stood in the bathroom, staring at myself in the mirror until I felt the shakes and anxiety melt away. I hated it. I never wanted to be that way, but nothing I did made me better. The best thing I could do was go back to Dr. Jenson and figure out what the hell was wrong with me, but I’d stopped going to her when I went to California, and I hadn’t attempted to reschedule. It wasn’t really necessary. I’d have to be honest with her, too, if I wanted to actually get better, but being honest with her could mean jail time. I understood what I was doing was illegal, but I could’ve done worse. I had done worse.

Zeke was sitting on the bed, holding his guitar, when I came out of the bathroom. The sun was completely gone and dark shadows had replaced all the sunny spots.

“Everything okay?” he looked up with a sweet and understanding expression.

And then I looked down at him, smiled, and told another lie.

“Everything’s perfect.”

We spent the next hour playing his guitar together. He’d place his fingers on the chords and I’d strum the strings. It was an innocent moment. I needed more of those. Moments when we could just shut out everything else and be together.

Not long after that, we fell asleep in each other’s arms.

I later found out Zeke had spent the night with Aunt Sarah and Sydney. Apparently, they spent the rest of the night playing cards after Zeke told them we needed a break for the night. I was relieved to find out he hadn’t been on a street corner somewhere. Instead, he’d slept on Aunt Sarah’s couch.

It was nice to know he and my family were getting along so well. All three of them meant so much to me and it warmed my heart when Sydney would tell me how much she adored Zeke and vise versa.

*

The next few weeks moved along without any problems. I went to all of my classes and practices while Zeke would get lost around campus or hang out at the apartment. He seemed to be okay with it.

Every now and again, we’d grab dinner at the closest Chinese restaurant or catch a movie. Sometimes we’d go to a party with a few friends I’d managed to make from soccer. A few times people would approach him for an autograph and get a jagged, left-handed signature. We were slowly becoming known around campus. They started referring to us as the stars—me being the soccer star and Zeke being the rock star. We just laughed it off.

In that little bit of time, my anxiety issues were slowly going away, but that could’ve had more to do with the fact that I was now taking the pills every morning. If I took them before I needed them, I’d never need them. That was my way of thinking. It was an expensive problem, but it was worth it if it kept me sane.

“I swear, if coach makes us run one more lap around that fucking field, I’m going to choke her with that damn whistle,” Hope said as she set her basket of fries and her bag on the table in front of Zeke and me.

I rarely ate lunch at the little café around the corner from the school, but on the days I did, Zeke would come and eat with me.

It was a charming place where you could get a burger and fries or a home-cooked meal when you were tired of something quick. It was small and inviting and the lady who owned it always had a smile on her face.