Life sometimes presents you with situations that seem straightforward and easy to get through. Though when a single point changes, that situation can suddenly become exponentially difficult to solve. Like the sum of cubes in an impossible equation, it throws you for a whirlwind, and you no longer feel as confident. But what happens when it's a series of such changes?
My mind can't seem to focus on anything solid anymore. All I think about are blurry moments, distant faces, and jumbled words that I can't separate and make sense of. Did I pay the utility bill this month? When was the last time I went grocery shipping? Was there a school project I was supposed to help Matty with? I can't even remember the last time I ate something.
It comes in waves too. Rushes of uncertainty, particles of anxiety blinding me. Yesterday at the car dealership I was able to convince the owner to offer a complimentary maintenance program, which I believe will help maximize profits. Today, I can't recall the details of the strategy I presented.
It's Monday morning, just before noon, and I'm roaming the halls of Apollo attempting to make my way to my locker. I've taken three wrong turns so far, ended up in the cafeteria, then back into the classroom I had left initially. Come on Veronica, focus. Second floor, east side, six lockers down from the girl's washroom. Second floor, east side, six lockers down... I repeat the directions in my head, but my mother's face interrupts. Then Will's. Then Jay's. None very clear.
The string of cloudy impressions evaporates when my phone rings. I fumble with it a bit before answering. "Hello?"
"Hey Ronnie! Guess what!"
"What?" If he hadn't called me Ronnie I wouldn't have known it was Will. I can barely concentrate on his voice.
"I got into UFTL!"
"Is that a club?"
Will lets out a short laugh, "No, it's the University of Fort Lauderdale."
University. Right. Higher education. I almost forgot. "That's amazing. I'm so happy for you."
"Anyone who applies there gets in, but it's one of the cheapest in the country. If I can convince my grandma to sell the house, we can get a place there and afford tuition, and have some left over."
A pang of dread fills my heart - when high school ends, I might never see Will again. He said we'd start a business together, that we'd run this town together. Though I can't be selfish. This isn't about me. "I'm sure she'll be cool with it. It's a solid plan. Plus, Florida's supposed to be a great place for retirement - she'll love the warm weather."
"I hope so. Anyway, listen... can you come over tonight?"
"For a bit. If it's for more papers I can swing by right after school to pick them up."
"No, it's not that-" he cuts off. For a moment it seems like the line dropped, but then I hear a touch of wind and muffled voices. When he speaks again his tone is a lot lower, like he's weighing every word, "I wanted to cook you dinner."
"Dinner? Like a date?" Almost as soon as the assumption escapes my lips, I regret it. Hopefully he thinks I'm joking. For the past week or so anytime I think of Will I feel different, and I'm not sure if it's really a crush, a deeper friendship than I've ever experienced, or something else. It was there when Will dismissed his friend's comment about us, growing steadily. Maybe it was brought on by my decision to officially end things with Jay - like a rebound, or a desperate attempt to latch onto the nearest source of calm.
"No, not a date. I wanted to thank you for everything you've done for me. Besides, after graduation, who knows when we'll get to hang out again. You'll be off at your fancy new school, and you'll forget about me."
"Graduation is still a couple of months away. And we've also got that fundraiser, and prom. Oh and... I could never forget about you."
"Good, it's settled then. I'm making you dinner tonight."
When we hang up, I realize my mind isn't as hazy as it was before. Maybe Will really is my source of calm. Then again, is it right to depend on a person in such a self-serving way? To be close to them only because they make you feel good? Is that friendship? Or co-dependency? There are certainly more qualities I like about Will, like how he speaks in a way to reassure everyone around him they matter, or how he takes such good care of his grandmother. What makes a friend, anyway? I guess logically the main reason friends exist is to make you feel good about yourself, right? What's wrong with you, Veronica? Stop acting like you're from another planet. Some of these concepts aren't that strange. Stop overanalyzing.
After finally finding my locker, getting out my books for the first half of the day, and heading to Biology, I'm ready to sit in my corner and disappear into the mundane background of whatever lesson we will have. Though before I walk into the classroom, Grizz approaches me, "Hi Veronica!"
Evie has her arm linked with his, and a look of distain appears on her face. I smile at Grizz, "Hi."
"Have you seen Will?"
"Not yet. I was actually just on the phone with him."
"What, Jay wasn't enough for you? Now you gotta have Will too?" Evie snaps, but her expression changes to shame after Grizz gives her somewhat of a stern glance. He motions for her to say something, his eyes moving from her to me. When she speaks again it's with a softer voice, "Sorry, force of habit. We're uh... we're having a party this Saturday, and Grizz - I mean we - are inviting you."
"Is that a joke? I swear if this is some prank you and Stella are playing on me-"
"I wish it were. Apparently I'm too selfish and narrow-minded, so my parents are pushing me to interact with people I wouldn't normally be around. Expand my viewpoint, or whatever. Like that'll help. Anyway, are you in or not?"
Grizz appears apologetic but eager for a positive response. I have shifts at the car dealership this weekend, and a lot of other work to do. "I'll try to make it. Thanks for the invite."
"Awesome! If you talk to Will again let him know. See you around, Veronica," Grizz says, then him and Evie head into the classroom and take their seats.
***
One, observe that the reflection is centered about y = 2, as the values go from y = 1 to y = 3. The cosine curve is 'upside-down', therefore the equation must be y = −(cos x) + 2 = 2 − cos x. Two, the reflection of y = f(x) in the x-axis (y = 0) is y = −f(x). When the line of reflection is translated, the whole reflection is translated. Since y = 0 is transformed...
The words and numbers suddenly jumble up, becoming obscure and annoying. This is now the fourth time it's happened. I keep trying to solve equations, but my brain short-circuits each time. Maybe I can find a free spa somewhere that can help me relax and let my mind rest, if only for an hour.
My phone's alarm goes off, reminding me of the dinner later tonight. Should I dress up? No, don't be stupid. It's not a date. You don't like him like that. He doesn't like you like that. Stop thinking about it. As I start getting ready, I keep replaying this thought until my nerves settle down. At most I'll stay for an hour. There are, as usual, a million things I need to do and not enough time to do them. If time travel were real, I'd hitch a ride on a time machine every single day - play the same day over and over, each time completing a different task.
An hour later, as I'm staring at myself in the bathroom mirror and trying to hide the massive dark circles under my eyes, Matty's panicked voice rushes through the silence, "Vee, I don't know what's wrong with dad. You have to come downstairs!"
The under-eye concealer drops from my hand, hits the ground and splatters. "It's okay, it's going to be okay. I'm sure he's fine," I say, masking my fear with forced calmness. I run after Matty and into the living room, where the scene before me materializes into an unabashed terror.
A strange, uneven gurgling sound is coming from my dad's mouth. His arms, while we usually make sure are on the resting position in his chair, are now draped over heavily - faint bruises visible on his forearms. With tears in my eyes and my throat aching, I pick up the phone and call 911, my tone now drenched in misery and hopelessness. After hanging up, I rush to my dad and perform a couple of maneuvers for those in a wheelchair, slight alternations to the standard CPR practice. I try leaning him forward and slapping his back five times, then five abdominal thrusts, then repeating. I try wrapping my arms around his ribcage from behind, then pulling his body in towards me and up five times. But the gurgling sound doesn't stop.
"Where's mom?" I ask, though I'm not sure if Matty's still in the room.
"I think she's sleeping."
"Can you go see if she's awake? If she's up, stay with her and make sure she's okay."
"What about dad? What's gonna happen?" Matty asks through his own tears.
I walk up to him and pull him into a hug, "He'll be okay. He's just having some trouble right now, but when the ambulance gets here everything will be fine." I don't believe a single word of what I'm telling him, but what else can I say? I move back from the hug and look into his eyes, "Matty, please go upstairs and stay with mom. If anything happens, I promise I'll let you know."