Page 15 of Rewriting the Story

Ella: Are you still coming or what?

Paige: What she means is, what is the best address we can pick you up from?

Amelia: I’ll share my locationwith you guys.

Hads: Wow, it really is that easy, huh.

Ella: That was the fastest response I’ve ever gotten from you, Amelia.

Paige: See! Things are looking up already!

Amelia: I’ll see you guys soon?

Paige: Ella is picking you up last, but I’ll message when we’re headed to you.

Amelia liked a message.

Idon’tknowifI can remember how to breathe properly, but I definitely do not want to choke on air when I see my friends for the first time since I left.

I can’t make a fool of myself. I already know it’s going to be awkward and tense. My stomach is tied into a million knots, and my mind is going a thousand miles per hour, despite having taken my medication this morning. I’ve been fidgeting, the anxiety of seeing them today hitting me like a truck. I keep fiddling with my rings, my therapist calling them my own version of a fidget toy. I’ve repacked my suitcase a few times, triple-checking I had everything I might need while away.

I’ve become way too attached to making lists for every small thing I need to do, whether it be chores to get done around my apartment, things I need to remember to do while running errands, or work.

My therapist suggested keeping my notebook by me at all times, especially while at work, since my brain gets so distracted. It’s hard for me to remember things I want to talk about. Before my journal was attached to my hip, I was forgetful, but now, I’ve found a way to jog my memorywhen forty thoughts intersect the original thought I had and had since forgotten.

And here I go again, diverting my brain to a topic that doesn't even matter.Calm down, Ames.Back to the matter at hand, I remind myself.

I grab my suitcase, zipping it up for the last time before I move it by my front door, placing my small backpack on top of it. Being in a tense car for two hours is probably not the best way to start this trip out, but I’ll also be in the same suite for the entire two weeks. We’re all going to be in some sort of forced proximity together. What better way to fix all I broke than to be in the same room with the three people I hurt most?

In hindsight, I could have called a car to take me to the hotel myself, but if I’m going to be serious about repairing my relationships, I can’t chicken out on the trip down there. I’m throwing myself into the deep end to prove that even though this is going to be insanely uncomfortable, I’m serious about showing up for them.

I know I have to have some tough conversations, and I need to take full accountability for my behavior, but I can’t do it all at once while we’re in the same vehicle. It would be too much at once. My plan is to talk to each of them individually, then all at once to fully clear the air. I talked it over with my therapist, and this seemed like the best course of action. I hurt them all individually and as a group. It just makes sense to apologize in a similar manner.

I also don’t want to ruin this for Paige. She’s getting married, for fuck’s sake.Married. She deserves the happiest celebration possible without me ruining it by saying or doing something stupid.

The hardest part is going to be looking them in the eye and seeing how disappointed they are in me. I’m sure I’ve given myself worse stares in my mirror trying to pep talk my way out of feeling like garbage, but it’s still going to be hard. I also worry they’re going to see me differently when I tell them about being diagnosed. As soon as I tell them I’m in therapy, Ithink they’ll be surprised. I think Paige has told me more than once that I should see someone.

I throw my front door open before I give myself more time to reorganize the bean bag and singular lamp in my apartment. I head for the lobby of my building and hear three honks. I take a small peak outside, nerves coating my body when I see Ella opening her trunk for me. Hads and Paige climb out of the vehicle, and I start to touch the necklace that still sits around my neck, my nervous tick that’s lasted me a few years.

God, I am so fucking jittery. Thoughts are racing through my head, most of them bad ones as I think about what I’ve done to the three girls who probably assume I’m not going to actually come out and face them.

Before them, I felt like I was going to be alone forever. Then, they came along, and suddenly, that theory was proven wrong.

Then, I fucked all of that up thinking I was making the right decision for me and my career. Things got dark, and I couldn't find a way out, their light that used to come easily an ocean away where I left them.

Wash, rinse, repeat.The story of my entire life before I gained the courage to start seeing Dr. Elyse.

I take a deep breath before I open the door to my building and trip over my own two feet. My suitcase falls in front of me as the three of them stare at me.

It’s like we’re all trapped in some sort of trance we can’t get out of. I’m looking at them; they’re staring at me, probably trying to make sure I really exist and I’m not just a figment of their imagination.

I take this moment to really take them in. They look so familiar, but they’re different at the same time. Paige’s blonde hair got a little longer. She looks comfortable in a white sweatsuit that says bride on the front in sparkly letters. I’m sure Ella bought that for her. Ella’s hair is still curly and long, but she looks lighter. Her shoulders aren't as tight as they used to be, and her golden skin looks flush with something I can’t place. It’s probably annoyance, and that’s understandable. Hads is leaning againstthe car, as if she needs it to hold her up as she takes me in. Her short, black bob is blown by the wind, her eyes piercing me before she looks away.

“Uh, hi,” comes out of my mouth before I even realize I’m the one speaking. My throat is so dry, but I still haven't moved to get my water bottle out of my backpack. I’m almost frozen waiting for one of them to say something.

“I almost forgot what you looked like,” Ella says, clearly mad, and I can’t even blame her.

“Hello, Amelia,” is all Hads says.

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