Bipolarity

16 year old Sophia Brooks has just lost her father. She's in therapy for depression and doesn't talk to her mom anymore since her dad's death. But when she leaves her notebook in class after having an emotional breakdown everything changes. Her boyfriend Derek distances himself from her and a mysterious boy dubbing himself "A.Q." writes back to her in her journal. Will Sophia get over her depression? Will she find out A.Q.'s true identity? Will love blossom between the two?

13Likes
3Comments
1450Views
AA

3. Entry Three

 

 

September 15, 2013

                Today’s my interview at McDonald’s. I’m nervous and unprepared and when Nick drops me off in his Charger I’m fidgety and biting my nails. ‘You gotta stop doing that,’ he says and tries to pull my fingers away from my mouth. I glare at him, mutter quick thanks and trot off to my interview. I meet with this kid who reminds me of Steve Urkel. I sit down and play with the trimmings on my skirt and he asks me why I want the job and who referred me if I have a referral. This is after I hand him my relevant info like my social security document and my driver’s license. I don’t have a car yet though I explain. He asks how I got there and I tell him a friend of mine took me who also referred me drove me that’s when I drop Nick’s name.

                He smiles and mumbles, ‘That kid, such a riot though,’ and we continue with the interview. I answer all the questions and smile when I’m supposed to trying not to force it. Inside I feel like butterflies and moths are fluttering around in my stomach and I resist the urge to want to go ask to use the bathroom so I can throw up. That would be two parts disgusting and one part pitiful on my part. So instead I sit and talk about how I hope to gain some “much needed experience” from this position and how I hope to keep it for as long as I can which is a lie. Who wants to ascend to the position of manager at Mickey D’s? I know I don’t. I’m not some desperate forty something that got rejected for positions at Merril Lynch. They’re going bankrupt that’s why I used them as an example see.

                Steve Urkel says that I’m hired and shakes my hand after the constant questioning and my nerves ready to fire at the ready. My nerves are medieval. My nerves are sensitive.  I rub my knees and they give me a uniform and tell me I’m starting in the back for training. By the time I’m done I smell like grease and day old French fries. How yummy. My mom picks me up and I apologize for yelling at her and says it’s okay she’s just really trying to reach through to me. She said she talked to Marilyn and that my therapist suggested we have a family session which I hate. It’s going to be awkward. They’re always weird and it ends up being ten-thirty minutes of poignant silence. I walk back into my room and check my cuts and they’ve dried. I see my old tattered notebook with a note taped on it: ‘Nick’s a pretty good friend of mine, A.Q.’

                I feel like hurling the stupid thing out the window until I remember I need it for therapy.

September 16, 2013

                I work after school. School in and of itself is this drab building with its mundane scheduling and its stupid organized cliques. I belong to none of them. I’m still considered to be the weird new girl. People begin to write things on my locker, spray paint it really, it’s easier. They get me to bring a pail of soapy dishwater to school and try and scrub it off. The janitor just looks at me oddly and says he can do it. “Bitch” and “Freak of Nature” bleed green and blue into each other. I consider adding more lines to my growing collection. Sometimes I dream of dad and wish he could take everything away. Sometimes I dream that he wraps all of my problems up into a metaphorical ball and smears all of the angry hurtful words like water color across the page of my life. Sometimes I dream of Derek holding me and mom baking and cooking and being happy and of our house smelling like lasagna and mashed potatoes and candied yams. Sometimes …

                A.Q. has written and defiled my notebook again. I want to scream at him. Instead in a fit of rage I stab more than write the words, “stop it” in viciously applied pen ink. Part of me knows he finds this to be some sort of a game. He finds this laughable and entertaining so why bother stopping right? Fuck him. Fuck the kids at school. Fuck mom’s help. When I come home and retire to my room, I retreat to the bathroom and dig into my arms until they resemble something like track marks from a heroin addict. Then I retreat into the pain and spiral into euphoria and everything is headiness and lightness and I’m in love with the blood splattering the too-white tiling.

                It’s when I come to that I find myself in the hospital. I have IVs hooked up to me, bags of saline fluid dripping into my bloodstream. There are nurses and doctors flocking to me and checking my blood levels. I’m constantly monitored and my EKG monitors beep slowly. All I can hear is that I’m lucky, so lucky and that if I hadn’t been found in time I would’ve been dead. And I’m there for days and days Edith. I’m there for days just recuperating and eventually my wall fills with apologies and letters from these kids who have names like Darren and Bryan and Elise and who say they’re so, so sorry and they had no clue I would’ve tried. And it was so beautiful. I wish you could’ve been there to see it sis. I miss you. I miss you so much. I wish you could’ve seen it because it made me cry and cry and weep and weep until my face was wet with tears and my pillow was cold and wet too. I wish you could’ve seen it sis.

                You would’ve loved it.

September 17, 2013

                There’s a get well card from A.Q. Mom is sitting by my bed and holding my hand and I’m letting her. And we’re talking and she’s tearfully asking me why I did it. And I said it was because I wanted to be with you and dad and she said she didn’t understand and I said it wasn’t supposed to be understandable. Mom picks up the card by my bedside table and asks who A.Q. is and I say it’s some guy that Nick knows. She said Nick was in the waiting room and I want to cry because no one was supposed to know and suddenly everyone knows. She said she found my shoebox and she’s like oh Sophia and she’s hugging me and crying and petting my hair softly like I’m some innocent little rabbit. It’s soothing and weird because we haven’t been so demonstrative in years.

                So anyway she reads A.Q.’s card out loud and it says: “I do the same thing to cope. When I found out from Nick I was shocked. Congrats on getting the job at Mickey D’s. I’m convinced we should meet soon. We need to talk. Shit’s hit the fan. This was fun but now it’s serious. There’s a reason I gave you your notebook. Clearly you’re very fragile. But I won’t treat you that way because you’re also tough because you’re still here. You went across the street instead of down it,” mom balked at that and stared at me until tears welled up in her eyes. He’d written a fucking smiley face next to that, the prick. I just shrug and she continues reading. “My name’s Aidan but that’s as much as I’m giving you Miss Brooks. Also look to your left,” I do—there’s a bouquet of white roses to my immediate left. He must like you mom says and I shake my head and say he’s just a nuisance. She says he’s an oddly disrespectful but charming one however. She’s not sure if I should meet him and neither am I but I do love the roses. I ask one of the nurses to keep it in a jar with fresh water and I ask to change it but they say I’ve lost too much blood.

                Eventually I get to eat solids and that’s when Devin and Nick come in. Nick is visibly furious and he’s holding my phone and he sits on the edge of the bed. I ask him what’s wrong and we cycle through the text messages Derek had sent me. We send Devin out of the room after we reassure him that I’ll be okay and I even kiss the little nine year old’s hand because how could you resist his gorgeousness. Nick is fuming mad and he says how Derek double crossed me and led me on and found another girl. I don’t want to believe it but there it is in text: “I hope you’re okay. Look I don’t think this is working. I found someone else. There’s no other way to put it. But hey, we had a good run right? Please don’t respond. It’s better if you don’t. You’ll find someone who deserves you more than I ever did.” My heart breaks and I try to rip the IVs out of my arm. Nick smashes the nurse’s button and he says it’s for my own good and he tries to hold me down as I scream I want out because how the fuck could Derek do this to me. After everything I’ve lost … after losing Dad … after losing you … now he’s gone too … now he’s gone …

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...