“I know, darling,” she said. “The worrying is a vicious cycle. Most people tend to think themselves into full-blown panic attacks. But I have something that might help you.”
She reached into her drawer and pulled out a small glass jar containing a cluster of rubber bands. She unscrewed the cap, fished one out, and came around to where I was sitting, handing the piece of brown elastic to me. I gave her a bemused look as I took it from her outstretched hand.
“Slip that onto your wrist,” she said.
I did what she asked.
“Good girl.” Without warning, she pinched the elastic with her thumb and forefinger, pulled it right back, and then let it go.
“Ouch!” I cried, as the sharp sting of rubber bit into my skin. I pulled my hand away from her. “What the hell?”
“Sorry, honey. You see, when you find yourself getting into a cycle of worry, that sharp ping snaps you out of your own head. It’s a way to ground you and bring you back to reality.”
“Oh,” I said softly. I began to see the logic behind the idea and was filled with a spark of hope. Maybe this will work.
“When you start to feel anxious, pull the rubber band back and snap it against your skin. That should ease the anxiety.”
“Okay, I’ll give it a go.”
“Good.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “Looks like time is up, sweetie.”
“Already?” I said, surprised.
She nodded as I stood up. “Is there anything else you want to ask me?”
I shook my head. “I can’t think of anything.”
“Remember, Audrey,” said Ida, her eyes looking straight into mine, “you can say whatever you want here. Nothing leaves this room, okay?”
I wanted to tell her about the lie right then and there, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.
“Okay,” I said, looking down at my feet.
“I’ll see you again next week, honey. Same time? Gloria will send a text the day before to remind you.”
Five
I wasn’t in a celebratory mood when my birthday came round the following week. It fell on a school day, and my friends organized a short message that was broadcasted over the loudspeaker at school. That night, my parents presented me with a simple chocolate mud cake, and when I blew out the candles, I thought of Ana.
Later, Lucy and Candela came by and we drove out to Blues Point Park, a local hangout, with a bottle of Sailor Jerry vodka and a six-pack of Red Bull. “Swig and sip session,” Candela declared.
Lucy was the designated driver as usual. She was the responsible one among the three of us, and she also owned a car. It was a bottle-green Mini nicknamed Octopus One. Lucy had a habit of naming inanimate objects. After we left Octopus One parked on a quiet side street, we walked through a dense area of shrubbery and found our regular spot, under a large elm tree. Lucy spread out her old fraying tartan rug, and we sat down, breathing in the cool night air. Candela uncapped the vodka and took a long swig. She passed it to Lucy, who shook her head. “I hate vodka,” she said. “Besides, how do you think you’re getting home tonight?” She took out a Red Bull and flicked back the tab as Candela passed the vodka to me. I took a couple of gulps and waited for the liquid to warm me. The city lights of Sydney sparkled in the distance. We sat in silence for a time, lost in our own thoughts. Pretty soon the vodka was working its magic, and I began to feel buoyant and light, like nothing was really as bad as I thought.
I began telling Lucy and Candela about my meeting with Ida. “I heard she’s the best,” said Lucy, yawning and stretching herself out on the rug with my lap as her pillow.
“She gave me this rubber band.” I held my left wrist up, pulling the sleeve of my sweater back. “I’m supposed to snap it when I get anxious.”
“Seriously? No meds?” asked Candela. She gave me a disappointed look.
“Nope. Just this shitty rubber band.” For some reason, we all found this wildly funny and broke into hysterics. Then we took turns trying on the rubber band and flicking it against each other’s skin.
“Ow! That really hurts!” cried Lucy.
“Only because you’re sober,” I teased.
Still wincing, Lucy handed the rubber band to me, and I slipped it back onto my wrist.
“I’m still not talking to my mother,” Candela said suddenly. We knew at once what she was referring to, and the mood turned sober. “I can’t believe she couldn’t keep her goddamn mouth shut about Ana.”
“Yeah,” I said quietly, and suddenly everything was bad again.
“Well, I’ve had enough. That was the last straw. I’m moving out next week.”
“You are?” Lucy sat up.
“Yeah. Honestly, I’m so over her shit. No wonder my dad walked out on her.” She reached into the side pocket of her backpack and pulled out a fresh pack of Marlboro Lights and a tin of Jelly Bellys. “I’m going to rent a place in Alexandria.”
“Alexandria,” said Lucy. “Isn’t it a bit dicey down there?”
“It’s fine,” said Candela with a shrug. “I met my flatmates yesterday. They seem nice.” She passed the Jelly Bellys to me. I shook out a handful and passed the tin on to Lucy.
“What are your roommates like?” I asked.
“Well,” said Candela, “there are two of them.” She pulled out a cigarette and lit it. “There’s Ramona, who is so punk. She works in a record shop and has a stack of piercings and tattoos.” Candela took a quick drag before shoving the pack of cigarettes back into her bag. Turning her head, she blew the smoke away from us. “And the other one is Ally. She’s kind of bookish and is studying business at Sydney U.” Candela must have caught the look I exchanged with Lucy because she quickly said, “As far as I can tell, the two do not get along. I peeked inside their fridge and half the stuff in there is labeled ‘Ally.’ How anal can you be?”
“Anal Ally,” I said, and we all burst into laughter.
“Are you going to have a housewarming party?” asked Lucy.
“Yes and you’re both coming to celebrate my emancipation.”
“Sure,” I said, “count us in.”
Lucy’s ringtone—which was set to the shower scene from Psycho—rang loudly from her purse.
“Jesus Christ, Lucy!” Candela jumped. “You’ve got to change your stupid ringtone.”
Lucy stuck her tongue out at Candela and fished the phone from her purse. “Babe?” She said, holding it up to her ear. There was a pause. “You’re breaking up; I can’t hear you . . .
Yeah, we’re at Blues Point. What? You’re almost here? Oh good. Okay. He is? Yeah.” She laughed. “Okay, see you soon.”
“Freddy’s on his way here,” Lucy said, tucking the phone back into her purse. “Also, Rad is coming too.”
“Rad?” I said, surprised.
“That’s okay, isn’t it?”
“I suppose,” I said, picking at a piece of cotton thread that had come loose from the picnic rug.
“Is Duck coming tonight?” Candela asked.