The Opposite of Falling Apart

CHAPTER 2 - BRENNAN

So Brennan scraped together all her anxiety, tied it into an ever-present knot of sick in her stomach, and went to work behind the deli counter of her local grocery store. Needless to say, she wasn't one of those people who left for work excited, loving her job. By the end of the day, she'd be dirty and food splattered, feet aching from standing for hours with only one break. On top of that, she was usually starving, because the anxious demon in her stomach wouldn't allow her to eat in public. What if you get food poisoning? She would counter with I can bring my own food, to which it would reply But you feel SICK. If you eat, you'll THROW UP and everyone will think you're D-I-S-G-U-S-T-I-N-G.

For now, Brennan tried not to focus on how she'd feel at the end of the day. She was too busy gathering strength for the beginning of it. And it took a lot of strength, carefully gathered, to push down the nausea at the back of her throat and get out of the car, slam the door, and speed walk into the store before she changed her mind and turned to run.

Currently, Brennan was trying to write a summary for a novel. There was only one problem: How could you write a summary for something when you didn't know exactly where it was going? When you didn't know the ending?

She was stuck. She'd written the beginning of Ing's story about ten different times (in first person, third person, present, and past tenses) and she still couldn't tell exactly what was going to happen. When are you going to just pick something and soldier on? asked Brennan's friend, Emma, via Facebook Messenger. They'd met sophomore year. Emma liked what Brennan liked. Emma had her life on track—she wanted to be a chemist someday. Sometimes, Brennan wondered if she'd maybe thought some of Emma's on-track-ness might rub off on her. Brennan hadn't had any idea what she wanted to do until the last week of her senior year, and she still wasn't entirely sure.

You should shadow your aunt, her mom had said. Brennan's aunt (her mom's youngest sister) had just recently graduated with a doctorate in physical therapy. It was an idea, and Brennan grabbed hold of it like a lifeline.

Really, Brennan didn't see how choosing your major before going off and actually experiencing things made any sense. And sure, you could go undeclared, but that just felt like too much pressure for Brennan when everyone else seemed to know. Left and right, everyone at her high school was declaring majors. Brennan had felt like the weird one whenever people asked her what she was going to major in. She'd always tried to avoid the subject. She would have gone for English if she thought she could make a career in fiction writing. There was the problem, however, that Brennan couldn't bring herself to post anything for people to actually read, other than the carefully culled bits of scenes that she sometimes sent to Emma when she was feeling especially brave. There was also the problem of the luck involved in writing—you might make it or you might not. Brennan didn't know if she had what it took to make it, and no one else could tell her if she did or didn't, since she wouldn't let anyone actually see what she wrote.

Physical therapy was convenient because SIUE had a bachelor's program to prepare for physical therapy school, and Brennan had a scholarship for SIUE.

Brennan had written to her aunt last night.

Dear Aunt Kim,

Too formal. Aunt Kim was family.

Hi, Aunt Kim!

Better; at least more friendly, like maybe she actually wasn't nervous at all about shadowing.

I'm interested in pursuing physical therapy when I go off to college. I was wondering if I might be able to shadow you a few times before I go down to school for the fall. I'd love the chance to see what a physical therapist does, and how they interact with their patients.