Learning Curve

Scottie

As of three o’clock today, all my exams are done, and winter break is here.

How I survived the past month and a half while secretly nursing a broken heart—while facing the boy who broke it no less than two times a week—and still managed to keep a 4.0 GPA and not miss a single cheerleading practice or game is both a mystery and a miracle.

Our team even secured a spot at NCA Nationals at our competition in Alabama two weekends ago, and I didn’t make any mistakes during our routine. Which, trust me, wasn’t an easy feat. Some of the changes Coach Jordan made at the last minute put me into stunt formations I haven’t been in at all before.

I run a brush through my hair and add a little hair spray to secure my curls in place. As I apply a fresh coat of mascara, I silently curse Julia and Kayla for convincing me to go out tonight. It’s not that I don’t want to celebrate the end of the semester with my friends—my body is just screaming for some actual rest.

Between the heartbreak of everything with Finn, cheerleading, more messages from unknown numbers, and exams, my stress steak is way overdone.

My phone vibrates on top of my nightstand, and I accidentally brush mascara onto my eyelid. Undoubtedly, at this point, just the sound of a text message causes a trauma response.

Still, more times than not, it’s a friend, not a foe, which is why I make myself take the time to check.

Wren: I’m sorry I sprang the whole mom thing on you.

Oh yeah. I guess when I was listing my stressors before, I kind of forgot one.

My sweet sister.

Wren is five years older than me and a great role model in every way. She finished college last year and moved home with my dad and me to work at a local café while she takes online classes toward her master’s. And while I know the transition she’s going through being back at home has been hard, she’s handled it beautifully.

She’s always been better at the hard stuff than me.

Including our mom.

A couple weeks ago, while I was at home for Thanksgiving, she told me she’d started talking to our mom again. That she was sober, faithfully attending AA, and really turning a corner. It’s a tale as old as time, though, and I’ve been having a really hard time believing in these particular fairies.

There are so many ugly memories and traumas tied into everything I’ve ever known with her. When I was two, she left me strapped in a car seat in a hot car, and the only reason I survived is because my seven-year-old sister—who had been left home by herself for hours—walked outside to look for me when Mom passed out on the sofa.

In the early days of our childhood, Mom hid her alcohol consumption from our father—which wasn’t hard since he worked so much. But as we got older, it became too obvious for her to hide.

Me: I’m just having a hard time understanding while you believe her this time.

Wren: Well, there’s always a risk. I mean, we both know that. But she really seems different.

Wren: I understand if you’re not ready, tho. That’s why I’ve been trying to give you some space to process.

Since my sister is five years older than me, I know there’s a lot more shit that she can remember than I can—the only reason I know about the hot car story is because of Wren—and yet, somehow, she’s finding a way to move on.

Maybe I need to find a way to move on, too.

Me: I’ll think about it, okay? I’ve had a lot going on, and this on top of it feels like a lot.

Wren: Take your time, Scottie B. Love you.

Me: Love you too.

I set my phone back down to finally fix my mascara, but the damn thing starts vibrating again with another message before I’ve even gotten the smudge wiped off.

Julia: Where you at? Kayla and I are waiting for you outside Delta Omega.

I glance at the time on my phone and realize I’ve completely lost track of time. Shit!

Me: I’m running a little behind, but I’m almost walking out my door now.

I’m using the term almost lightly here. The fact that I’m currently wearing only a bra and underwear is proof of that.

Julia: Okay! The party is super crowded, tho, so we’re just going to wait outside for you to get here or I fear you’ll never find us. Kayla says hurry so her tits don’t freeze off. LOL.

“Shit, shit, shit!” I mutter as I hop into action. I rummage through my messy closet until I find a pair of jeans, my favorite cream sweater, and a pair of boots that give me a few extra inches in height.

It’s not necessarily the look I was planning for a Christmas-themed sorority party, but beggars can’t be choosers.

I toss on my clothes, taking special care with pulling my cream sweater over my makeup-covered face, and take one ten-second glance in the mirror.

A little fluff of my hair and a quick reapply of lipstick, I decide this is as good as it’s going to get, and I grab my purse and keys and jog out the door.

Luck is on my side when an empty elevator is waiting for me—I guess everyone else is already out for the night—and I don’t waste any time stepping on and heading to the ground floor.

All stress aside, celebration is in order! And I’ve got a whole campus to cross to get there.