Chapter 18
“How did you fix yourself?”I asked Ari.
She had her phone balanced on a pile of magazines in her bathroom. I watched her put on a full face of makeup. She was prepping for a date with a guy she met online. He was a dentist and father of two. Ari laughed when I questioned if she was ready to be a mother. Her answer was a flat no, followed with: “I’m just going cause he offered to give me a cleaning discount. You know I don’t have insurance. He’s low-key hot too, if you’re into Dads.”
“That’s a vague question.” She paused, putting on her blush to readjust the camera. “Besides, who said I was broken?”
“I thought we all were.” As I was talking to her, I had my next design project opened in front of me. I was struggling to come up with a re-vamp idea for a fast-food chain. After seeing Weston’s work, I was itching to get his opinion. But I was holding back from texting my on-call fuck buddy until I figured out how I would ask the right questions.
“Depends on how you look at it, I guess.” She stepped back from the mirror to better inspect her handy work. She looked like she just stepped off the runway. I silently wondered if the dentist deserved her. Even if he didn’t, I hoped he put as much effort into his appearance as she did because Ari go-with-the-flow Daniel was wearing a bra. Underwire and everything. She said a prayer for her boobs at the beginning of her call, and I repeated her words earnestly with hopes she could absorb all the good vibes possible.
“I don’t think I was ever broken,” she continued. I watched her add a wingtip to her eye.
“You used to write poetry about darkness and the dying earth,” I reminded her.
“Hey.” She paused with her hand trained in the air above her eye. “I thought we agreed not to bring up my early writing days. I was too young to be held accountable for such hideous work. It’s a miracle I’m one hundred percent better at writing non-fiction.”
“Fine. Consider your creative past ancient history,” I said.
“Thank you.”
“Still. How did your mental health progress so fast when I’m still the same?”
Ari stopped doing her makeup altogether and asked, “Are you good, Covee?”
I frowned. “No. That’s why I’m asking for advice right now.”
She wrinkled her forehead and tried to study my expression as well as she could through a small phone screen. “So, it’s bad?”
I wanted to tell her to stop fooling around and answer my simple question. I stopped myself when I noticed she had put down her liner. That’s when I realized she thought I was drowning in my dark place.
“It’s about Weston,” I clarified with a wave of my hand. Since meeting him, my dark place stayed on the edges of my world. Still lurking, but not inching closer. I was thankful for the break and the ability to breathe a little easier.
She studied me with a suspicious look, “You serious or avoiding?”
“Serious,” I promised as I brought my knees to my chest to rest my chin. “I get so excited and caught up in my thoughts when he’s near. I don’t know if I’m making the best choices around him. I don’t know if my gut is trustworthy because it might be broken.”
She tried not to smile, but her lips curled up in betrayal. “He gave you head, didn’t he?”
I covered my face with my hands briefly before answering, “Yes, and it was insanely amazing.”
She laughed. “Better than a vibrator, right?”
“Girl…” I sighed, unable to finish my sentence at the thought of him.
“That good? So, what’s the anxiety about?”
“I don’t know what my gut is telling me. Or if it’s speaking at all.”
I could never get a handle on my body long enough to figure out what was wrong. I had read articles and books on trusting your instincts. How to get in sync with your soul. No amount of sage, yoga, or deep breaths could undo the damage depression reeked on my nervous system.
I didn’t say any of this out loud because Ari would recommend a healing session. She’d taken classes from a witch in her neighborhood. I didn’t feel like craving an extra hour to burn lavender throughout my apartment.
“Covee.” Ari’s calm tone made me sit attentively. “Tell me about the first time you talked to Weston. How did he make you feel?”
“First time?” I shrugged. “Nervous. I’m always nervous.”
“Good nervous? Scared nervous? Excited nervous?”
