24

ANNIE

Luke,

Sometimes, I wonder if everything would have been fine if I’d just gone to Chicago State and kept to myself. That was my plan at first—studying was going to be my priority. Who needs friends anyway? My roommate was a cheerleader and she was completely obsessed with sports, so she seemed to fall immediately into a vast social network and was hardly ever in our room. There were dorm parties, but I found the crowds and the noise to be overwhelming. I found a job waitressing at a diner near the campus, and so I started taking night shifts on the weekends just to avoid the partying.

That’s how I met Todd. He was a customer at the diner, and for months he visited regularly, but it never occurred to me that he might be coming in to see me. Since my disastrous attempt at high school, I hadn’t really spent much time around boys my own age. So when Todd asked me out on a date, I was actually annoyed with him.

“I don’t think it’s appropriate to ask a woman out when she’s trying to work,” I snapped at him, and he shrugged and went back to his pancakes. But he was there again the next night, and the next, and then every night for several weeks. He’d come in very late when it was quiet, and we started to talk a little bit, and then we talked a lot.

The next time he asked me out, I agreed to have dinner with him, and before I knew it I was falling into something like love. Todd was an IT student in his sophomore year, and in the first few weeks we were together, we spent a ridiculous amount of time walking hand in hand and sharing increasingly intense make-out sessions in my dorm room while my roommate was out.

I was scared of intimacy with Todd, but not so scared that I wanted to avoid it. I told him only that it would be my first time, and he was sensitive and patient. When I finally decided I was ready, I downed a few bottles of beer and the whole thing went pretty well, considering. I called Lexie to tell her about Todd, since my relationship with him suddenly seemed more serious and adult, and ironically Lexie and I sat up late on the phone giggling about it like we were thirteen-year-olds.

Todd introduced me to his friends, and my world began to expand, little by little. No one in Chicago knew about my history with the sect, not even Todd, and so to everyone I knew there, I was just a normal—if somewhat antisocial—freshman adjusting to my new life at the university.

But soon I was thrust into uncomfortable social situations with Todd. He’d encourage me to go to parties, although I hated them with a passion. Sometimes, I’d be standing talking to people and for no reason at all, I’d feel panic bubbling up—a wheel racing in my chest, a wave of sweat over my skin, sweeping moments of pure dizziness and adrenaline that would dissipate only when I left.

I was more content alone in my comfort zone—plugging away on my own schedule and avoiding other people’s expectations of me. But I was happier with Todd, and I wanted to be with him although I could never understand what he thought he saw in me. I assumed he thought I was someone I wasn’t—someone good and clever and worthy of his attention.

I didn’t want Todd to see who I was really was, and I really didn’t want him to think I was a freak, so I learned quickly to play along. I developed coping techniques—I’d arrive a bit late, so that I could slip into a party only once it was really loud and busy, and no one would pay attention to me. I’d greet Todd, tell him I needed to talk to someone I’d seen on my way in, then I’d find the quietest corner and I’d try to hide.

Those things helped—but the biggest key to becoming more comfortable was a few medicinal beers before I left my dorm. It was amazing what alcohol did to my anxiety—those few drinks at the start of the night were the difference between spending the whole night feeling like I was going to suffocate, or me mingling with ease and sometimes even making new friends.

You are a filthy little girl, Anne.

This is all that you’re good for, you know.

It was my regular mental soundtrack when I was sober—the voice of impending doom that repelled any possibility of happiness. It was amazing how the thoughts were always right there just below the surface, waiting to rise up to the front of my mind. But alcohol silenced the voices, and let a more confident and calm version of myself break free.

And at first, I thought that maybe I liked Drunken Annie better anyway.