Chapter 1

She realized that, up until now, her life had been a series of mistakes. And she was afraid to make another one.

She wasn’t sure how she had gotten to this point in her life – broke, a dead-end job, and living in a trailer park where her neighbours had an opinion about everything (and weren’t afraid to share it).

It was the day after her birthday. She stopped celebrating her birthday when she turned 19. She never understood the fuss. “Okay. I was born. Big fucking deal.”

As all people do on a milestone birthday, they reflect on their life. After recently writing her mother’s eulogy, she was in a very reflective mood. What would her obit look like? Would it be full of exciting things she had done? Would it talk about the compassion she felt for mankind and how she worked tirelessly to make the world a better place? No. If anything was written at all, it would say that she died penniless in a trailer wearing mom jeans.

She sat at the kitchen table and shifted uneasily in her chair. Her gaze turned to the TV where somebody was trying to sell yet another miracle weight loss cure. She muted the TV and sat in silence while before and after photos splashed across the TV screen. Photos of sad, fat people in unflattering poses were contrasted with photos of bright, skinny people who raised their arms in victory and showed off their slender bodies. She imagined the voiceover, “You could be this beautiful too. Just buy into our program…..” She turned her head in shame. That would never be her. She would never be one of the beautiful people.

Reaching for her drink, she could hear the hum of the refrigerator and realized that she needed to get that looked at too. Another thing to add to the list of things that were breaking down. The ice in her glass clinked together, chiming in agreement as if they were saying, “Save our friends. If you aren’t careful they’ll be gone too.”

She put the glass down, picked up her pen and started to make yet another list of things that she needed to do. A list would give her focus. Direction. A plan. She secretly hoped that if she saw it on paper it really wouldn’t be that bad. But, do you repair the eavestroughs or get a storm door to help stop the draughts? Do you get the trailer levelled or do you hold your breath and hope it doesn’t keep sinking? Do you continue to live in denial or do you face your reality – as shitty as that may be?

Tears started to well up and then slowly fell down her cheeks. She didn’t bother to wipe them away. They dripped onto the list; rendering the words indecipherable and transforming what she had written into an abstract piece of art. If only life could be that simple – shed some tears and transform the bad into something beautiful. She tore the piece of paper from her notebook, crumpled it up in her hand and tossed it onto the floor. She’d pick it up later. It was always later. She’d clean later. She’d go shopping later. She’d pay that bill later.

Eventually things got done but sometimes later never came. She was mortified the first time she missed a bill payment. How did that happen? Simple. You set the bill aside and never got to it. She phoned the electricity company the third time it happened. They were going to cut off her electricity if she didn’t pay the bill in full. She had no money – payday was a week away and she needed that money to pay her lot fees at the first of the month. She tried to explain that she really was a responsible person. She just needed a break – a little more time to get a handle on her finances. The person on the other end of the phone said “Honey, it’s not rocket science. You get a bill and you pay it.” They droned on about how she never contacted them until they sent a disconnect notice. “If only you had contacted us before we sent out the notice…..”. Finally they agreed to let her make two installment payments on her credit card. She hated to do it. That maxed out her credit card and left her with nothing for an emergency. Not having electricity should be considered an emergency.

She promised herself that she’d get back on track. It was time to take control of her life. The spiral had to be stopped before it went out of control and she hit the bottom. It had to be stopped before the weight of her life choices overcame her will to live. She stood up and started pacing – hoping the movement would propel her into action.

She didn’t know where to start or how to start. Nothing was a simple fix. Everything seemed too big. She didn’t even want to use the word “insurmountable”. That word was synonymous with defeat. It made her want to curl up into a ball and cry.

The phone rang. She walked back over to the table and stared at the call display; hoping it wasn’t another bill collector. She cursed softly when she recognized the therapist’s number. It was some office worker calling to tell her she missed her appointment and she’d have some extra fee to pay. “Get in line” she muttered to herself. She swiped at the tears on her cheek and thought about letting the call go to voicemail. She took a deep breath and said, “Hello”.

“You missed your appointment yesterday. Is everything okay?”. The crisp voice belonged to Dr. Bancroft. What kind of therapist makes his own office calls? He kept speaking; not giving her an opportunity to answer.

“When we spoke on the phone last week, you seemed encouraged at the prospect of working with me to map out a strategy to regain control of your life. Your family physician had made arrangements to get this covered by medical insurance. Did you change your mind? Did you find somebody else?”

There was silence. She realized that he was waiting for her to respond. “No.”

“No? No what?”

“No. I didn’t change my mind. No. I didn’t find somebody else. I just forgot. I could lie to you but I won’t. That’s the truth. I just plain forgot.”

“Okay. Well, I appreciate your honesty. Did you have a lot going on this week?”

“No. Just the usual shit.”

“I see. Well I have some time later this afternoon. Did you want to come by?”

“You have Saturday hours?”

“I do for some of my patients.”

She sniffed and then said, “So I’m that bad?”. She held her breath and braced herself for the words she knew to be true.

“No. I just know that this hasn’t been easy for you. You were excited when we spoke on the phone. You said I had given you some hope. I was worried when you didn’t show up. I was afraid something had changed.”

She exhaled. She took another deep breath as she mentally listed the reasons why she shouldn’t do this. She felt fragile and vulnerable. She was a lost cause. She couldn’t fathom her life playing out any differently. She would just go through life living out the repercussions of her decisions until the day she died. Alone. In her trailer. In her mom jeans.

She took a deep breath and exhaled. “Okay. What time?”

Not allowing her to back out, Dr. Bancroft quickly responded, “I’ll see you in 1 hour.” He gave her the building’s weekend hours security code and then hung up before she could change her mind.

She sat there, phone in hand, listening to the dial tone. She was brought back to reality when she heard the fast beeping noise; signalling that the call had long-been disconnected. “Well then. I guess I better get dressed.” She pressed the END button and stood up. She punched the access code information into the notes app on her phone. She looked at the half-full glass on the table. Condensation dripped down the side as the heat from the room collided with the coolness of the drink. She took another sip and placed the glass back on the table. She’d clear it later.