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My stomach growls, and I realize I completely forgot to eat lunch. I head to the fridge, hoping to find something delicious, only to be met with a few wilted vegetables, a jar of pickles, and half-empty condiment bottles.
I groan, wishing I had gone grocery shopping earlier this week. But after what happened in the warehouse, I couldn’t be bothered. Going to work, acting normal, and just existing took everything out of me. Just as I’m about to put some cheap ramen noodles into the microwave, my phone rings, startling me.
As I walk over to answer it, I realize my fingers are trembling. Packing my fear away, I pick it up. “Hello.”
“Hey, Mia! It’s Jen!” I’m instantly relieved to hear a familiar, friendly voice on the other end. “I’m just calling to check up on you. I heard you called off work the other day. Is something wrong?”
“Hey, Jen,” I say, putting on a smile that I hope shows through my voice. “Things are alright. I’ve just been working too much again, and my body finally forced me to take some time off.” The lie slides too easily off my tongue. “I was about to get a late lunch before you called.”
She’s quiet for a moment before she says, “I was wondering if you wanted to hang out at my place. A girl’s night at home, maybe? I need to get my pumpkins carved, and some baking done. I could use the company.”
“And I could use the time away from this apartment,” I say, chuckling. “Sure. That sounds fun. I’ll head over soon.”
After exchanging goodbyes, I hang up—and something catches my eye at the corner of my periphery.
I take a deep breath, holding it for a moment before exhaling slowly to calm myself. The visage of my stepfather ripples away, leaving behind only the fading scent of his cheap cologne and bottom-tier beer. I clench my fists to ward off the memories that seem to come alive with every glimpse of him, a past I’d much rather forget.
I can still feel his presence as I head to the bathroom to wash up. After rinsing off, I exit the shower and dry myself off. But when I wipe the steam from the mirror, it’s not my stepfather’s face that usually stares back at me.
It’s my father’s.
Tears well in my eyes as I shake my head, the lingering presence of my father filling the air. I can still feel his arms scooping me up as a child, his voice full of love and assurance that he’d never leave me. That I would always have someone to turn to, no matter what. I lean against the sink, struggling to suppress a sob.
When I next open my eyes, the image of him vanishes. A single tear runs down my face as I wipe it away and head to the bedroom to get dressed.
As I finish applying some light makeup, I still sense my father’s presence in every corner of the room. I know periods of stress can trigger episodes, but this is becoming ridiculous. I worry my medicine isn’t working as well as it should anymore. Maybe I should find a new psychiatrist, get my prescription adjusted.
I grab my keys, pocketing them as I head out the door. As I breathe in the crisp autumn air, I assure myself that I will be okay.I can get through this.
We put on a random horror movie in the background while we carve pumpkins.
An eerie score fills the room as a teenager walks through the darkened woods with her flashlight. Jen picks up her knife—and startles at the abrupt change in music. The protagonist whirls around, her hands trembling as she tries to find the source of the noise.
“Are you okay?” I ask, drawing a crooked eye on the pumpkin with a marker.
“Yeah, it just scared me a bit.” She laughs nervously, setting the serrated blade down. “Horror movies aren’t my thing. I prefer something a little less … intense.”
Her words cause Grace’s face to appear in my mind. I remember how tightly she used to grip her pillow whenever we attempted to watch anything remotely scary. Usually, we’d end up switching to something more lighthearted. A sudden wave of sadness washes over me. “We can always watch something else.”
She smiles gratefully, like she’s relieved. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
Again, Grace’s face flashes before my eyes like déjà vu. A pang of guilt lances through me as I draw another eye. She would have loved this—carving pumpkins and watching movies on a chilly autumn evening. As I contemplate the style of mouth, Jen gently places her hand on my shoulder, almost as if she sensed the shift in my emotions.
“I’m sure there’s something I can find,” she says, grabbing the remote and flipping through the channels, until we settle on an 80s rom-com.
Jen’s mouth curls up in amusement at the cheesy one-liners, and a weight presses down on my chest. My thoughts wander to Grace again, and the way she used to light up when she was around me. My heart aches as I remember how much we had in common. It’s painful to think about her being nothing but a memory now, a memory that will haunt me with things left unsaid and goodbyes never spoken.
Get it together, I think, taking a deep breath in an attempt to push away those memories. It’s not fair to Jen that I’m preoccupied thinking about another friend.
Jen catches my eye and smiles. “Hey, you okay?”
I hesitate for a moment before smiling back at her. “Yeah, I’m alright. Just thinking.” She nods and turns back to the movie with an understanding look in her eyes.
We watch the movie while carving the pumpkins, falling into an easy banter as the couple’s love story unfolds on the screen. Our carvings all feature goofy, smiling faces. We line up the pumpkins on the coffee table, and I step back to admire our work.
“Wanna light them?” she asks.
I nod eagerly. “Definitely.”
