Ransom

by Rachel Schurig

  It’s one thing to want to be strong, to want to move on and just get back to normal. But to actually do it is a different thing entirely. The truth is, I’m not normal. I shouldn’t have to keep reminding myself of this, not after everything that has happened. The fact that I’m sitting here, alone, in an empty apartment without a single friend to my name should be all the proof that I need. I am broken, and I’m not going to be fixed any time in the near future.

  The sooner I finally accept that, the better off I’ll be.

  ***

  I don’t expect to see Paige again until our next class, so I’m surprised to find her sitting in my usual seat in my twentieth-century lit lecture the next day.

  She, however, doesn’t seem surprised to see me. “I thought it was you,” she says, smiling broadly. “I usually sit back there”—she points across the room—”and I remembered seeing someone in this row with hair like yours. After we met yesterday, I wondered if maybe it was you. And it was!”

  I smile, feeling nervous. I had planned to hide away in the back row of econ next week, hopefully avoiding her for the rest of the semester. No such luck.

  “Sit down,” she says, gesturing to the empty seat beside her.

  Not seeing much choice in the matter, I do as she asks, pulling my sweatshirt sleeves over my palms as I do. Instinctively, I hunch into my hoodie, wishing she would stop looking at me.

  “So you’re pretty shy, huh?”

  I gape at her, momentarily forgetting how uncomfortable I am. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as bold as this chick is.

  “Sorry.” She gives me a rueful smile. “Karen is always telling me I need a filter between my brain and mouth.”

  “It’s okay.” I stare at the space just below her chin. I’m really bad at eye contact, which I guess kind of proves her point. “Yeah, I’m pretty shy.”

  “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I should probably work on being more shy, you know?”

  I laugh a little, feeling slightly more comfortable. “No, it’s better to be confident, believe me.”

  She sighs. “There is a such thing as too confident. Sometimes I fall into that category. It’s gets me into all kinds of trouble.”

  I think about the history class I’m failing. “Shy gets me into trouble too.”

  I stopped going to class midway through the term when I found out I would be required to work in a group and give a twenty-minute presentation in front of the whole class. I just couldn’t do it. My father had been furious when I finally admitted it to him. If I would have called him when I found out, he could have talked to someone in the counseling office and gotten me excused from the assignment. I knew that, but I was just so sick of him making “arrangements” for me. I wanted to show him that this whole college thing was out of my league.

  The professor starts her lecture far below us in the hall, and I’m relieved to have an excuse to stop talking to Paige, but I really hate this class. Professor Davis is an ancient-looking, soft-spoken woman who spends the entire lecture hunched over the podium in the center of the room. I can barely hear her half the time, and the murmuring of classmates who know they can get away with goofing off is very distracting.

  “So,” Paige whispers, “have you thought at all about coming with us? I think you’d have fun.”

  “I don’t know. I’m probably taking classes this summer.”

  Her look of horror almost makes me laugh out loud.

  “Classes in the summer? Are you insane?”

  I don’t answer, keeping my eyes firmly on the professor. Maybe Paige will get the hint.

  She doesn’t. “You have to have a summer. It’s like, human rights or something. Taking classes would be way too depressing.”

  I make a noncommittal noise. The lease on my apartment is for a full twelve months. I’m not exactly looking forward to summer school, but if I stay here and take classes, I won’t have to go back to my dad’s place. And missing the first semester already has me behind the rest of the freshman class.

  “That’s all the more reason for you to come with us,” she says, her voice firm. “I’m not going to take no for an answer, Daisy.”

  I have a sinking feeling she isn’t joking. How am I going to get out of this mess? “I… um… I really can’t. I’ve got some other—”

  “Have you ever been on a road trip before? With your friends, I mean? ’Cause it’s like, my very favorite kind of trip. Seriously, Daisy…”

  I know that she’s still talking, but in my head, I’m hundreds of miles away. I’m in the back of a van, smushed between Daltrey and Lennon’s amplifier, while Cash tries in vain to navigate the unfamiliar streets of Pittsburg. Daltrey calls out a steady stream of abuse, making me laugh, while Lennon moans from the front passenger seat. He always got the worst motion sickness. I wonder how he’s doing now, since their road trip has morphed into a full-out cross-country tour.

  “Daisy?” Paige whispers, nudging my arm. “You okay?”

  I shake my head, dispelling the memory. “Yeah.” I hunch over my notebook, scrawling down every word I can make out from the professor’s lecture.

  From the corner of my eye, I see Paige lean back in her chair, her eyes still on me. But she doesn’t press and, eventually, her attention falls to her own notebook. I release a relieved breath. It’s been a long time since I let myself wallow in those memories. Seeing all those pictures yesterday really sent me for a loop.

  When the professor finally releases the class, I’m hopeful that Paige will leave without talking to me. Surely she can see that there’s something not quite right about me. It usually takes most people much less time than this.

  Apparently, Paige is not most people. “Look,” she says, standing and throwing her bag over her shoulder. “You should come have dinner with us tonight in the dorm. We’ll order takeout or something, and Karen and I can talk you into coming with us.”

  I can’t figure out why she’s trying so hard. Though I’ve made an effort not to be rude, I’m clearly not reciprocating her friendliness. I’m just too awkward, too damaged to be of interest to her. So what’s going on? A shiver runs through me. Could this be part of some kind of joke? Does she know?

  My curiosity is strong enough to risk making eye contact. I look up at her, searching her face for any sign of malice or judgment. “Why are you trying to convince me? I’m obviously not… not the most social person you’ve met this week. If you guys need someone to split costs, I bet there are a hundred girls on campus more… that you’d have more fun with.”

  She watches me for what feels like minutes. Just as my panic is about to get the best of me, she smiles. “I don’t know, Daisy. I just get the feeling you could use a little fun in your life. And maybe some people who are nice.”

  I’m so floored by that comment that I can’t even formulate a response. Before I manage to close my gaping mouth, she pats me softly on the shoulder.

  “See you tonight? 306 Hale. Say, seven?” She grins. “Karen gets cranky if she doesn’t eat on time, so don’t be late.”

  Then she turns on her heel and heads to the door, leaving me to sit and stare after her, wondering what in the hell just happened.

  Chapter Five

  Daisy

  I spend the rest of the day trying not to have a panic attack. Paige’s words set off something inside me, and I have a terrible feeling my life is about to head into majorly complicated territory.

  When I feel tears welling at the sight of a pair of girls giggling together in my trig class, I finally give up and pull out my phone. I’m going to need a session with Dr. Jacobs if I have any hope of making it through the week without a total breakdown. Her receptionist works me into the schedule without a hassle, another benefit my father has arranged.

  I make it through the rest of my classes then hop on a city bus. Dr. Jacobs’s office is located on a bustling downtown street dotted with restaurants and retail spaces. I try to enjoy the spring sunshine as I make my way from the bus stop to
her building.

  “Hello, Daisy,” the receptionist says when I enter. “I’m glad you’re here today.”

  I give her a weak smile, sign in, and sit in the half-full waiting room. Trying to dispel the silly idea that everyone is staring at me, I get up and search through the magazine rack for something to use to hide my face. I think I catch sight of Daltrey’s eyes peeking out at me from one of the tabloid glossies. Looking at that would not be a good idea right now, so I grab a home decor magazine and settle down to wait.

  “Daisy?”

  I look up and the receptionist is smiling at me.

  She gestures at the door. “Come on back.”

  I ignore the glares of all those who have clearly been waiting for longer than I have and slip into Dr. Jacobs’s office.

  “Hello, Daisy. It’s good to see you.” She smiles.

  I feel marginally more at ease. I connected with Dr. Jacobs pretty early on when I moved out here, and she’s been a big help to me. I don’t think I would be in college without her—for better or worse. “Thanks,” I mumble, taking my seat in the comfortable armchair opposite her.

  She watches me, waiting, I know, for me to look up and make eye contact. The eye contact thing is big for her, and she’s always bugging me to work on it. “You’ll feel more confident when you act more confident,” she says. Yeah, right.

  Still, I raise my head and meet her eyes. “Thanks for seeing me on such short notice.”

  “No problem. You can always stop in, Daisy, you know that.”

  I return my attention to my sleeves, knowing she won’t hassle me about it anymore this session. She lets me do whatever I need to feel comfortable enough to talk to her. It’s one of the reasons I like her so much.

  When I first met her at the Horizons Recovery Center, I was having a hard time talking to any of the doctors. Group therapy was a nightmare—ten sets of eyes staring as people waited for me to talk. Dr. Jacobs had seen right away how counterproductive that setting was for me and worked to get me excused from the sessions until I felt more comfortable. I owe her for that, big time.

  “So,” she says, after we’ve sat in silence for a few moments, “what brings you in today?”

  I sigh. “I’ve been having an… interesting week.”

  “How so?”

  “I… met someone. A girl. In one of my classes. She invited me to have lunch with her and a friend.”

  “Did you go?”

  I nod, and I can hear her almost inaudible intake of breath. She’s surprised. I don’t blame her.

  “That’s wonderful, Daisy. I’m proud of you.”

  I snort. “You know, when you say stuff like that, it just shows me how fucked up I am. You’re proud of me for going to lunch with a couple of girls in my class. Think about how pathetic that sounds.”

  “Who cares how it sounds? You and I both know what you’ve been through. No one else is entitled to judge your experience or your journey.” She pauses. “The truth is, Daisy, having a positive interaction with a peer is a big deal for you. And the fact that you willingly extended that meeting to a lunch is a great step. Now, tell me, how did you feel?”

  “How do you think? I was awkward and weird, and they were probably super relieved when I left.”

  “That may be the case, and, if so, you can’t control their reactions. But that doesn’t take away from the step you took.”

  I burrow slightly farther into my hoodie. “The weird thing is that they didn’t act relieved. At least, Paige didn’t. She’s the girl I met in class. Turns out she’s in my lit class too. She was waiting for me there today.”

  I look up in time to see Dr. Jacobs’s eyebrows rise slightly. “Really? Did you speak with her again?”

  I tell her all about it, how Paige was so nice and how they even invited me to road trip with them this summer. I pause, not knowing how to bring up the real crux of the issue. “But here’s the thing; this wasn’t just a random meeting.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She started talking to me in class because she saw me with a magazine… with a picture of Daltrey.”

  “Ah. She’s a fan, I take it?”

  “Yes. That’s what the road trip is all about. They’re following the tour on the east coast. And they want me to come with them.”

  “And how do you feel about that idea?”

  I laugh bitterly. “Obviously, it isn’t going to happen. How could I go? I’d have to see them.”

  “And that would be a bad thing?”

  I gape at her. “Come on. You can’t expect me to actually see those guys.”

  “Why not? They were once very important to you. And your relationship with them has little to do with everything else that followed. It might be a good thing for you to see them.”

  I shift uncomfortably. I have the feeling she’s about to start encouraging me to do something I don’t want to do. Dr. Jacobs is a master at bugging me until I agree to go along with her crazy plans.

  “I went online last night.” I say it fast, so fast I’m not entirely sure she hears me. But she doesn’t ask for clarification so I barrel forward. “Without the filter on, I mean. After I saw that picture and talked to Paige, I had to see what was going on with them, so I went online and searched for them.”

  “How did you feel, being online?”

  “I was scared, I guess, at first. But then I kinda forgot about it. I just was too caught up in… them.”

  “They’re doing well, I take it?”

  I nod. “Really well.”

  “How do you feel about their success?”

  I do my best not to get irritated with her. I know it’s her job, but I get tired of that question. How do you feel? How did that feel? How did you feel then? Sometimes I wish I could just tell her what happened without having to dig into the emotional stuff of every single experience. “I felt… really proud of them. And it felt kind of surreal, that it was them, you know? These kids I knew so well were on The Tonight Show. It was weird.” I pause. “I also felt a little sad, I guess.”

  “Why do you think that is?”

  I’m quiet, trying to isolate the feeling from last night. “Because I wasn’t there with them. Because they did it without me. I didn’t even know most of these things were happening.”

  “Daisy, I think you miss them.”

  “Of course I miss them.” My voice is sharper than I intended. “I haven’t seen them in more than a year.”

  If she catches the annoyance in my tone, she doesn’t let on. “And in that time, you went through things no person should have to deal with. And you did it without your best friends.” I feel tears prick at my eyes, but she continues. “And then, once you started to heal, you had to deal with the effects of your experiences.”

  I know she’s talking about the fact that I have no friends at school—or anywhere else for that matter. I can’t even have a conversation with someone my own age. I sit in class alone every day before going home, alone, to sit in a silent apartment until it’s time to go to bed.

  “You’ve been very lonely for a long time, Daisy. It’s natural that you should miss the last real friends that you had.”

  I wipe my eyes. “I went on their ConnectMe page,” I say, my voice small with shame.

  She has always been the one advocating that I be trusted to go online, that when the time came I could be strong enough to stay away from the sites that were a trigger for me. I worry she’ll be disappointed that she was wrong.

  “And?” she asks, surprising me with the lack of judgment in her voice. “Did you feel okay?”

  I tell her about seeing Joanie’s post, and my reaction to it.

  “So what you’re telling me is that you went to a site that in the past caused you great pain.”

  I hang my head.

  “And while on that site, you saw something that upset you. So in response, you turned off your computer, practiced your breathing exercises, and managed to calm yourself down. Does that sound accurate?”<
br />
  I’m so surprised by her summation that I look up at her, right in her face.

  She’s smiling a little. “Can you not see what a positive thing that is? Can you not see how proud you should be of such a reaction?”

  I blink, trying to wrap my mind around it in that way. “I… I guess.”

  “Well, I’m certain of it, Daisy. I want you to keep thinking about that, particularly when you’re inclined to be upset about what you see as your lack of progress. You’re so much stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

  I sit in silence, letting those words run around in my mind.

  “I think you should explore this relationship with Paige and her friend. They sound like nice girls, and it’s high time you allowed some fun in your life.”

  “So you think I should go with them? On the tour, I mean?”

  She shrugs. “That’s entirely up to you and certainly not something you should decide lightly. I do think, however, that you should seriously consider getting in touch with Daltrey and his brothers, one way or another. You’ve punished yourself long enough.”

  I stare at her. “You think I’m punishing myself?”

  “Why else would you be cutting yourself off from one of the most significant relationships of your life?”

  I leave her office feeling more confused than ever, but I’m also calmer. I’m seriously starting to wonder whether she’s right—maybe I am making progress. And maybe it’s time I stop being so hard on myself about everything.

  Back on the bus, I check the time. It’s getting close to seven. A big part of me wants to go home, put on my pajamas, and get lost in a movie or a book so I don’t have to think anymore. But that’s the way I’ve dealt with pretty much everything since I got out of the hospital.

  Instead, I get off the bus when it nears campus. I have twenty minutes to get to Paige and Karen’s dorm, and I don’t want to be late.

  ***

  By the time the Thai food arrives, I’m shocked by how much fun I’m having.

  “You go get it,” Paige tells Karen after the delivery guy calls up to the room.