Crossroads

I remember the first time I had an anxiety attack. My mother was in the kitchen, holding bills that hadn't been paid in her hands, my father was shouting and throwing things in the hallway. My baby sibling was hearing all this from my mother's womb. What gave me that anxiety was the thought of my baby sibling hating me, hating us for what he or she could hear going on. I started crying, I was only young and foolish, but I wouldn't stop until I couldn't breathe and my heartbeats were becoming faster, and even then I didn't stop. My parents did though, for a little while.  Due to those anxiety attacks that didn’t stop happening, I grew up being really nervous, about nearly everything. My father was silent most of the time right up until he left us, which I guess I’m thankful for. Him being silent, I mean, for the most part. I was neutral about him leaving, I didn’t really care or miss him. My mother did though, because most of the time he was a great husband. I guess he just couldn’t deal with me or his new kid any more.  My mother tried to help me as best as she could, taking me to the doctor’s, to a psychiatrist, any type of therapist she thought could help with my anxiousness, but all that happened was the money she had saved up, the money she worked so hard for… Well, it was all spent. On nothing.  So I continue to live my life, waking up at night, nervous, a wretched heartbeat and bad dreams haunting me every time I sleep. Also, living on my own, with my own job and bills to pay doesn’t help. I thought it would, but it has only helped my mother.  I think of all this, of how everything happened and how I came to live in a musty, mould filled apartment, as I lie awake at four in the morning, sweating, even though it’s cold.  I get out of bed, putting my feet into the slippers that are too small for me, to head to the bathroom to wash my face. The cold water wakes me up, but I wasn’t going to sleep much anyway. I haven’t slept through a whole night without waking up in ages, the bags under my eyes very much proof of that. Sighing, I dry my face and go to the kitchen to make myself a warm drink, trying to decide between a hot chocolate and an orange tea.  The light flickers on after three tries and I grab a cup, having decided on the hot chocolate. As I open the fridge, I glance at the two photos my mother made me put on the door. I know I could probably take them off, but that feels like betrayal. There’s a photo of my mother and I, sitting on a bench in a park. My mother’s smiling brightly, I’m just sitting there awkwardly. The other photo is of Cora and I. Again, I’m sitting there awkwardly, but this time Cora looks more uncomfortable than me. Cora and I got along well, mostly. She wanted to play all the time and I just wanted to read or do something else entirely, so as to get my mind off things. I guess she’s nice though because every night she sends me a message from my mother’s phone, telling me to have sweet dreams or at least to try, like she does. It seems like she cares, at least, and she’s only ten, so she shouldn’t be worrying about me. I shouldn’t have been worrying about things at her age either, but there I was.  I’m sipping my hot chocolate as I receive a message, speaking of the devil. My mother’s awake. I also think about my nervousness a lot, about how I can’t sleep. I get doubts in my mind and then I don’t stop thinking about them for the rest of the day and night. Do I really have anxiety or do my sleeping and nerve problems come from my mother? Can little kids really have anxiety problems at young ages and so, become worse as they get older? Do I have ADHD? Obviously my mother has problems sleeping, like me, but is that in my genes or is it me? My mother’s asking if I’m awake, even though she knows the answer. I try not to worry her too much though, so I don’t answer until at least seven… That way she can try to trick herself into thinking that I was actually asleep.  I start making myself something to eat, as I’m not going to fall asleep again, so I check the fridge. My heart drops when I notice there isn’t much in there and I should buy some more food, but can I afford it? I swallow down saliva, trying to keep my mind at bay, reaching for some bread and a slice or two of ham. The bread is sort of dry and hard to swallow, so I’m glad I have the hot chocolate to wash it down.  Heading into my room, I notice how messy my apartment is. It’s a small apartment, it’s like a box, I can’t swing a bat in here, let alone live comfortably. And still… It’s always messy.  I turn my computer on, slowly waiting for it to come to life. It’s one of those old ones, we used to have it at home, but I needed it for my degree, so I brought it here. It works for the most part and I can do my work on it, which is something.  I open a coding program, which is what I do until I have to leave for classes later, around eight. I either play games, read or do some coding, depending on how I’m feeling. Today I’m feeling weird. “Hey Cal, morning!” Ren is my best friend. To be precise, one of my two friends. I say he’s my best friend because I see him everyday and he gets me. Most of the time. I met him this year in class, he bumped into me and I nearly started yelling at him. I was really nervous and cranky. “Good morning.’’ I reply, bumping his closed fist without a lot of force. He mumbles something in Japanese, frowning at me for one second and then he slaps me on the back, falling into step with me as we head towards class. We normally meet on a corner, beside an arcade and across from Ren’s place. He normally checks his window to see if I’m waiting and then heads down. I’m always the one waiting for him.  “Are you working today?” he asks, not even waiting for me to answer. “Until what time?”  “The whole afternoon and some part of the night. Like always.” “At least you get some weekends off,” he shrugs, although he knows I don’t care much either way.  “Some.” I nod, glancing at the people around us and then dropping my chin, my eyes to the ground. “I prefer to do more hours though.” “Dude, you’re stuck in the library for ages!” Ren exclaims, sighing, as if he were the one working. “It’s as if you eat, breathe and sleep books!” “You know that’s not the only thing I do.”  “Yeah, you don’t need to remind me.” he jokes, grinning at me. Every time the subject of my job comes up, he always says the same thing. I know he’s joking. It’s just, sometimes it gets on my nerves. I don’t just check in and out the books everyone comes in to borrow, I classify information, I resolve technical issues, use computers a lot and help people find things. It’s not all about books.  “Plus,” he continues, as the old building where our classes take place comes into view. Some days when the class is really boring, I can imagine the building falling down. It has lots of cracks in most of the walls and some of the ceilings. “They should pay you more.” I take a deep breath, to keep my nerves intact. I do so many hours, I spend most of my day there, I know very well they should be paying me more. And it’s not like I haven’t looked for other jobs, it’s just so complicated and most places don’t want and don’t accept people without experience. To top it off I get really, like way too nervous when people interview me, it’s a wonder I even got the job at the library. I start sweating so much it’s like someone grabbed a watering can and watered me with it. I can’t speak, I just nod and hum answers to their questions.  How did I even get these classes? How did I even become friends with Ren?  My thoughts start skidding off track, Ren looking at me, as if waiting for an answer. “Well. You’ll find something better.”  I blink at him and nod once, in silence as we enter the crumbly building. We head off to class, where we sit around other tired, pale students and try to focus on what the professor is saying. I try to take notes, Ren tries to copy me. My hand works automatically as I zone out, staring at the screen the professor is pointing at, his mouth moving but not hearing the words coming out. Ren whispers to me a few times throughout the class and I reply on autopilot, sometimes nodding, humming or shaking my head. Other times I just ignore him.  Throughout the lesson I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket and I freeze for a second, wondering who it could be. I try to talk myself down, to some sort of state that resembles calmness and I shake myself internally. It’s probably just my mother, sister or my boss.  When the class finishes, the last part dragging so slowly I wanted to chop my hand off with whatever I had close, which was my pen, Ren and I head out into the hallway. I pull out my phone and heave a mini sigh of relief. It’s my boss, asking me if I can come in a little earlier today. I reply, saying of course, I’ll be there right after lunch.  “Lets go get some coffee,” Ren’s energy is slowing down, like it normally does right after the first class. It’s like it drains him of his soul and motivation. The coffee right after our first lesson helps though, it’s really strange. He wouldn’t be able to live without this first coffee. Well, any coffee in general really.  Heading to the cafeteria, we get stopped many times by people Ren knows. This is our morning and daily routine. We leave class, bored and tired out of our minds, go to the cafeteria, where we stop and speak to quite a few people Ren knows, which makes us take longer to order his coffee and so, making us hurry to the next class, where Ren ends up with half his drink left, the other half dripping all over the corridors we jogged through to get to the lesson.  “One day, you’re not gonna get your coffee.” I sit down with a heavy breath in my seat, rolling my eyes at Ren, who’s licking his hand to get all the coffee he can into his system. Looking at me defiantly, he says, “I will always get my coffee.” I make a face at him as he continues to lick his hand and reach for my notebook, to continue taking notes for this class. Everyone else uses a laptop, a tablet or an iPad to take their notes, except for me and Ren. Ren uses a notebook mainly so I don’t feel left out and partially so he can copy the notes I make. Also, in some classes we’re not allowed laptops and in others we work with the computers that are in the class, so I do okay in the end.  The rest of the morning passes quickly, Ren moaning and grumbling about his spilt coffee whenever he gets the chance, me on autopilot taking notes, working on the computers in class and ignoring Ren and his other friends' conversations.  We split ways on our meeting corner, after the last class, where Ren heads home and I head to the library. He gives me his usual fist bump and a grin, running off home, saying he has meatballs for lunch as he waves with his back turned.  On my way to the library I stop off at a corner store and buy a sandwich and an apple, for lunch and just in case I get hungry as the afternoon goes by. I doubt I will, but it’s a habit I constructed thanks to my mother as I grew up.  I unwrap one half of the sandwich as I step into the street, some delicate sunlight trying to peep its way through the clouds covering up most of the sky. I enjoy most weathers, be it cold or warm, sunny or cloudy, rain or snow, the only weather I dislike is like today’s. Sort of sunny, but cloudy, then very sunny and then very cloudy. Make up your mind.  I tug my earphones out from my pockets, plugging them into my phone, looking through my Spotify list. Ren added me to his Spotify family plan the first time I went to his house for lunch. It took me a while to actually go to his house, even though his parents weren’t even there to meet me.  I put on “Running Red Lights” by The Avalanches and start humming along as I try to avoid the busy people speed walking on the sidewalk, bumping into each other with their briefcases and shopping bags. This is the way I take everyday, but even so, I find something different, interesting, every single time I walk to work or on my way home.  Today, it’s a cat following a person wearing a hoodie and sweatpants, who’s walking along slowly, winding his way through all the people. Strangely, he seems calm, as if he doesn’t have anywhere to go and the cat behind him seems to be enjoying the sunlight, while keeping an eye on him.  Maybe the man is his owner and likes to take him for walks. Maybe the cat is a stray and the man fed it, so he’s following him, to find a home or more food. I speculate to myself as I watch them, pushing my earphones into a more comfortable position. I’m about five minutes away from the library when I start to feel droplets on my head. I pick up my pace, since I didn’t bring an umbrella because it didn’t look like it would rain today. The man continues to saunter along, the cat now just a step behind him. He stops beside a railing, which the cat leaps onto and then promptly onto the man’s shoulder.  I hurry past, not wanting to get too wet, but I can’t help staring at the cat and the man as I do. The man nods his head at me, a one sided smile on his face. I give him an awkward bop back and then I pick up my pace to the library.  When I get there, inside the building, my shoes are nearly soaked through and my jacket has kept most of the rain off my top half, whereas my jeans are also spotty with droplets. I squeak my way through the front room, making an obnoxiously loud sound in the silent hall. There’s a couple sitting there, talking, holding hands, watching me as I go by them, feeling my cheeks heat up. I’m nearly running by the time I reach the door to the library, which makes things even more uncomfortable as the noises my shoes make sound even worse. Forgetting I have to hold the door so it doesn’t slam, I cringe as everyone turns around to look at me. What a start to the afternoon.  “Hey Cal.” Ada greets me, with a sympathetic look on her face. I roll my eyes, sighing as I walk over to her. “Bad ten minutes, huh?” “Very.” I mutter, curling up my toes inside the shoes, feeling the dampness. I wish I could take them off, having cold, damp or wet feet is something I hate very much.  “Sit here, I have a heater hidden away in the back room. I’ll get it for you.” Ada hops off the high chair behind the desk and disappears down the hallway. I squelch myself onto the chair, going slowly so as not to draw any more attention to myself. I drop my bag onto the floor, glad I don’t have any valuables that could have gotten wet and then hang my jacket on the back of the chair. I drop my head into my hands, sighing again.  I’m pushing my hands through my hair nervously when Ada gets back. She gives me a look and plugs in the heater, pointing it in my direction.  “Anyway, to cheer you up, here are pics of a quokka.”  I hold her phone, giving her a look like I don’t know what she’s talking about and suddenly let out a spurt of laughter at the picture of the googly eyed creature on the screen. I cover my mouth, looking at Ada with wide eyes knowing I shouldn’t have done that but she’s trying not to laugh herself.  “That,” I say, handing her phone back when we’ve finally calmed down. “Is cool.” “And cute.” I give her no comment on that while I put my feet straight in front of the blast of heat coming from the rotting contraption on the floor.  “So anyway Cal, I’ll leave you on reception duties today. We can't have you moving around in between bookshelves, in and out of the back room looking like this,” Ada explains. “And making weird noises.” “What?” I exclaim, turning to stare at her. “You heard me when I came into the building? You could hear me? Everyone could hear me?” Ada nods with a sympathetic grimace on her face.  “Oh s**t,” I groan, dropping my head onto the desk with a slight bang. What a disaster. Ada pats my back once, clicking her tongue as she leaves me at the desk alone. I curse myself, taking deep breaths, getting my mind into ‘work’ state. I log out of Ada’s session and into mine on the computer, thinking of my routine whenever I work. I check emails, reply to queries, then get rid of spam and then sort out the new information, books, archives, anything anyone has sent to the library for us to file.  This routine, although very monotonous, is the thing that keeps my mind where it should be and not in the dark labyrinths inside my head.  The day passes calmly, nothing out of the extraordinary happening. Children come in with a babysitter, they sit down and colour in the children’s corner, elderly people come in asking for some newspapers, sitting down in the warmth and out of the rain. I’m pretty sure some of the people that come in are homeless, but obviously they can come in, sit and read. Whenever I’m on desk duty I get to watch people more and sometimes I imagine their situations.  I see Ada walking around the halls, up to the desk and into the back room, stopping to chat to me, asking about my morning classes.  Ada’s one year older than me and lives with her father alone, she normally takes the morning shift so she doesn’t have to go home alone at night on the subway. She’s leaning on the desk, telling me about her dog, who peed on a cushion this morning before she left for work while I type in some new information, looking for an Encyclopedia about Egyptian Laws and Rights. When I first started working here, Ada told me that she watched all the Star Wars films with her dad when her parents separated and she found Jabba the Hutt so weird and interesting she called her Pitbull Terrier, Jabba.  Soon, Ada’s shift finishes and I’m sad to see her go, because my afternoons go by quicker when she’s around, the reason for that being her many pit stops by the desk as she goes by.  The afternoon drags on slowly and painfully, I snack on the leftover half of the sandwich and do things on my to do list for today, mostly work things.  I like to make lists, so I’m able to concentrate easier and have a clear image of what I have to do. It’d just get muddled in my head if I didn’t write it all down.  As closing time approaches, I ring a tiny bell twice, which is our ‘warning’ sound. Everyone starts standing up, putting their things away, nodding, smiling and even waving at me as they leave. My boss comes out from the top office, pats me on the back and thanks me for coming in earlier, even though there wasn’t much need. He heads back up for his keys so I grab the heater and hide it in the back room, unsure whether Ada would get in trouble or not, so just in case, I hide it there, where our boss doesn’t go. I wave to him as I leave, wondering about what he even does in the office.  I head home, tugging my bag further onto my shoulder, unable to glimpse the stars or the moon in the sky. I trudge home, feeling the cold breeze on my cheeks but glad it isn’t raining anymore.  The man and his cat are standing at the corner where I always meet Ren, just smoking, staring at the sky. “The world is strange, huh?”  I stop, stare at him, not knowing what to say, startled that he even spoke to me. “Um…” “We’re living in a grey world. Soon it’ll be black and white.”  Having no idea what the man is saying, I just nod and speed by him. I’m heading up some stairs when I hear his creepy voice behind me, “Mark my words.”  I shiver involuntarily and nearly run home, slamming the door, locking it quickly, my right hand shaking slightly. I click on all the lights, sitting down on the worn out sofa, my hands on my knees, my right leg bouncing. What the hell was that and why did it freak me out so much? I decide to try and take my mind off it by turning on my computer to watch videos. I spend a couple of hours distracting myself, watching videos then a film, until my back hurts too much from sitting at a desk all day long.  As I lay on my bed, feeling very tired and hearing the guy with Tourettes going at it in the flat next to mine, I receive a message from my sister. I suddenly don’t feel tired anymore.