Bound by the Moon

2.

“Girl, you are so clever for doing that. I always end up turning into a popsicle waiting outside the club. Here, let’s go over to the wall, and I’ll use my trench coat as a cover so you can change out of the leggings.”

Well, now I really couldn’t refuse without looking like an i***t. I nodded and tried to recover the facade of a somewhat normal young woman.

Feeling more than corralled, I did as the girl suggested, hidden only by her coat as I tried to shimmy my leggings off modestly. However, I had a realization when I got them to about my ankles: they weren’t going to make it off over my shoes, which meant I had to unzip my boots, stand in my socks on the freezing ground, kick the leggings the rest of the way off, and put my shoes back on.

It wasn’t a big deal, which I knew logically, but the anxious part of my brain insisted that I looked like a f*****g i***t, a real moron. I hurriedly tucked my discarded leggings into my satchel, then struggled to put one shoe back on, then the other, with fingers so cold, I could barely feel them.

God, it really was so much worse without my leggings. Who knew that they’d been such a barrier against the cold?

“There you go! Looking good!” Well, at least Michelle was being sweet about it. I’d long learned long ago that people were perfectly capable of smiling while also making fun of me, so I took compliments well, especially if they seemed remotely genuine.

Michelle lowered her coat, and I stepped back into our gaggle of friends—though this was a rather generous term, given that I didn’t know most of them. To my surprise, their response was positive, with a couple of thumbs-up and even a wolf whistle from one of the boys.

I appreciated the positive reinforcement, I did, but I was still all too aware of how short my sweater was. It went from feeling cute and oversized to worthy of a public indecency charge. I felt like I was practically naked.

The logical part of my mind knew I wasn’t, but sometimes it didn’t matter. The little voice in the back of my head still said I was too big. Too ugly. Too stupid.

I’d fought hard for a long time to like any part of myself, and it’d taken a lot of introspection and self-talk. I liked to think I’d come a long way. Every now and then, though, situations came where I felt like I’d been knocked back into that same mental state little Emily had struggled to get out of.

I hated it. I hated it so much, but I couldn’t freak out. Instead, I slapped a smile on my face and pretended the attention I was getting from the two guys in our group wasn’t making me uncomfortable.

God, I really was pathetic, wasn’t I? A twenty-one-year-old woman—about to be twenty-two—who couldn’t dress for the club, throwing herself into an anxiety attack over people being nice to her. I needed to calm down and get out of my head. I could have fun if I didn’t spiral into the cesspool of self-hating thoughts taking over my head.

I needed to buy myself some time and breathe. That was all.

“Let’s get in line, shall we?” I suggested. “I’ve been here for ages, so it’s moving pretty fast, but the sooner we’re inside, the better.”

“Amen to that!” Jessica agreed, her speech loose enough to make me wonder if she’d pre-gamed before they arrived. It would certainly explain why they were late.

All of us hurried into the line, and we managed to pass through it relatively quickly. For the briefest of moments, I found myself wishing the bouncer would turn me away so I could go home and it wouldn’t be my fault. Still, that’d be mortifying, so I banished that thought, along with any others trying to ruin my night. I was determined to have a good time.

I’d been working so hard, and school was kicking my ass. I deserved to relax and have a good time, especially with my friends. Like most young adults, I was finding that the older I got, the harder it was to be available for anyone, really.

Including myself.

Sometimes it overwhelmed me when I thought about the rest of my life not being that different from my college experience: always having to grind and try to maximize every day to be as productive as possible. It was draining, it really was, and with the rising cost of living, combined with stagnating wages, it was like walking into quicksand with no way out.

Occasionally, when I let my mind wander too much, I felt I wasn’t cut out for this world. That I was meant for a slower time period, one where meals were enjoyed with family and friends. Where it wasn’t unheard of to just look up at the night sky, or run through a meadow on a crisp spring day.

Granted, I certainly enjoyed the finer parts of living in the modern era. The internet was pretty great, as was having access to medicine. Too bad about the insurance mess in America, though.

Not exactly thoughts conducive to an amazing night out. I should’ve refused to join my friends, been upfront about how crushed I felt under my school schedule, but I’d already missed our outing the week before, and the week before that. I knew there were only so many times I could tag out before I’d be forgotten entirely. I knew that high school and college friends weren’t really meant to last, yet the idea of being forgotten by what few friends I had made me feel physically ill.

So, perhaps it wasn’t exactly surprising that once we all went to the bar to order shots, I got a double, and then another one. It was money I really shouldn’t be spending, but I needed something to soothe the edge in me. At the moment, it felt sharper than a knife.

As I downed the second shot, I told myself I could have diet soft drinks or water the rest of the night, and I’d be fine. I needed a buffer to recover from the leggings incident and standing outside for half an hour, stuck with nothing but my thoughts.

“Well, well, looks like someone’s ambitious!” Bella cooed as I slammed my second shot glass back onto the bar.

“Are you sure you shouldn’t take it easy?” That was Jessica, who sounded genuinely concerned, and I couldn’t help but warm at the worry in her voice. “Didn’t you have a bad fever just last week?” she asked. “I know you said you were feeling better, but you don’t want to push things too much.”

It was hard not to inwardly preen at being shown even basic affection. That always did wonders for quieting that paranoid voice within me that insisted everyone hated me and I was a burden. “I’ll be fine!” I said cheerfully. “I wanna have some fun, you know? School has been suffocating.”

“I hear that,” one of the boys said. Jason, maybe? “I think I’m averaging less than four hours of sleep a night. It’s so bad for us, but what choice do we have?”

What choice, indeed? I watched as he ordered some dark beer. I’d never been much of a heavy drinker, but I knew I wasn’t a fan of what I liked to call “wheat soda.” It always made my stomach bubble, and I felt bloated after. It reminded me too much of cola, which I’d cut out of my diet completely when I turned sixteen. I missed it from time to time, but mostly for the taste. I’d found soon after I’d stopped that carbonation was doing a real number on my stomach.

“Hey,” I said, trying to sound light and effortless. “What are we all standing around for? Let’s dance!”

There was a chorus of agreement. Jason stayed back to nurse his drink while Jenny went to the bathroom, but that was fine. I was sure they’d be joining us soon enough. Together, our little cluster occupied the dance floor, the high-key club music throbbing through my body. I was by no means an excellent dancer, yet it was nice to close my eyes and move along to the beat. To let my mind shut off and my body feel.