Rachel was sitting in a far corner booth, hair wet the same as mine, coffee steaming in front of her. The café was mostly empty; we had half the place completely to ourselves. When I sat down across from her, she didn’t say anything at first, just watched me until my own coffee was sitting before me.
She asked me if I was married, which took me by surprise. No, not anymore. Sharon and I had been together for about six years before she’d decided her cycle instructor would be a better fit. You’re always lost inside your own head, Sharon had said as she packed the last of her things. I’m tired of living with someone who’s not here half the time. It was ironic since she traveled a lot for work and wasn’t home for long stretches. But she wasn’t wrong. I did get lost in my stories, in scenes playing out that only I could see. Despite my books paying the bills, she needed more than I could give. I didn’t blame her; it’s hard to blame someone you still love. So Sharon went her way, and I stayed in our little apartment in the city until Dad called with some news after a doctor’s visit.
I gave Rachel the shorthand version; my mother would’ve been proud. She seemed to digest it, staring at my left hand, I suppose looking at where my ring had been. Then she started talking.
First about the weather, then about the boys and what activities they were involved in. How Joey had a gluten intolerance so she packed his lunch every day before he went off to kindergarten at the school attached to the church on the hill. How he’d been anxious about going to school for the last couple of months and she didn’t know exactly how to help him. She talked about her book club and how they’d read one of my novels years ago. Laughed when she told me the leader of the group had panned it. I laughed too. She said David didn’t read much other than financial reports. That and a few sports websites on Sundays.
She’d looked down, staring into her coffee. Then she’d really started talking.
She said when she was eight, her father had taken away her night-light. It was in the shape of Minnie Mouse, and the day her dad declared she was old enough to sleep without it was the first day she felt the beginnings of anxiety. A seed, if you will. Seeds can grow anything; it’s hard to know what will sprout when they’re planted until they bloom.
At night she’d sneak a desk lamp into her room and put it back every morning before her parents woke up. When she was caught doing that, she started sleeping with the lights on until her father told her she needed to grow up and he shut off the breaker to her room each night. It took the better part of a year before she was able to sleep with only the door cracked to the hall. After that, she started to worry. About everything, she said. It didn’t matter if it was something important or trivial. She fretted, chewed her nails, developed slight tics. She didn’t blame her father. She thought the anxiety had always been there, just a part of the fabric of who she was. She glanced out at the rain when she said it.
Different medications while she was a teenager. A few helped, most didn’t.
A teacher suggested a therapist. Her parents brought her to see Father Mathew at the church.
Confession was cleansing. It would wash away the worry. She actually smiled at that. By then she was dating David, her mother already planning their wedding. When she got pregnant with Asher, the planning kicked into high gear.
I love music, love to sing. Always wondered if I was good enough to record an album. Rachel paused, then went on. I had one conversation with my mother, she said, so quiet I had to lean forward in my seat to hear her. I asked her if she ever wanted anything different for herself, her life. She told me if I didn’t marry David, she and my father would never forgive me. The baby and I would be on our own. She laughed sadly. I already felt like I was on my own.
When Joey was two, she tried a new medication. It was supposed to be a step up from the last one her doctor had prescribed, and the recommended dosage was slightly too high. It was a nice day, and she’d taken the boys into the front yard to play. She sat down in a lawn chair, and the next moment, she was waking up to the shriek of brakes. Asher was still playing cars on the lawn, but Joey was standing in the middle of the street a few feet from the bumper of an idling Chevy truck.
Rachel had paused there, swallowing hard for a second. Joey was okay, but the Loop had come alive at that point. The bird lady was suddenly outside, as were a half dozen others. All of them exclaiming and running over to see what the commotion was about. She’d rushed to pick Joey up, clutching him to her as if she could erase the past few minutes if she held him tight enough. The driver of the truck yelled at her, and Mrs. Pell from the other side of the street crossed her arms and shook her head.