One: Anxiety
What’s the best thing you can do on a Sunday morning? Most of you will probably say sleeping in or chilling around the house, but for me, Sunday moorning is the best time to practice my fighting skills. That’s why I usually wake up very early in the morning, like five-in-the-morning early. Yeah, that’s actually bullshit. I usually wake up at seven, but it’s still considered early in the morning, right?
As soon as I’m awake, the first thing I do is to eat some breakfast, filling up my energy for the day. After that, I go straight to my home gym and do some exercise and practice my boxing skills. Boxing is not only beneficial for self-defence, it’s also a good activity to let out your pent up anger. Someone or something makes you mad? Just go and hit a punching bag! Beat that shit up with all your might until all that anger fades away.
After doing some light exercises, I’m ready to start my boxing practice. My fists clashes against the punching bag one after the other relentlessly. My body moves in a swift way, dodging imaginary attacks from my imaginary opponent. Dodge, right jab, left jab, slip, and right hook.
I continue to throw blows after blows at the punching bag with all my strength, showing no mercy at the inanimate object. Despite the burn in my muscles and the ache on my knuckles and hands, I persevere through the discomfort and continue my fight against the punching bag before me. All my attention goes to the punching bag, thinking of it as my worst enemy, as sweat beads roll down my temples, neck, and back.
“Sophie!”
My frenzied punch stops mid-air at my own name being called. I whirl my head around the room, searching for the source of the voice. My eyes then lock wih a pair of dark blue eyes that belong to my father. I stare at him in silent and confusion, still panting for air from my intense practice. I wonder why he’s here. It’s been a while since he watches over me while I’m practising.
Dad stands there under the doorframe. His arms crossed over his chest as he keeps his rigid gaze on me. He looks so serious. Is there something important going on? I rarely see him look as serious as this. My gut feeling is telling me that there is indeed something important.
“Go get a shower. Mr. Warren will be here soon,” my dad says. His voice alone tells me the importance of Mr. Warren’s visit. What does it have to do with me, though? I don’t have anything to do with whatever Mr. Warren and my dad will discuss later. Does this mean I’ll be meeting him later as well? For what? What importance does my presence has to do with them?
Lost in thoughts, I just realise my dad has left the room, leaving me to myself. With an exasperated sigh, I decide to do what he told me to do and leave the gym.
The exhaustion in my mind and body dissolves with the cold water running down my body to the cold bathroom tiles underneath my feet. Once I feel refreshed enough, I step out of the shower with a towel wrapped around my body. When my gaze meets the pair of green eyes in the mirror, I can’t help but frown at the sight.
I wonder if the person in the is truly my reflection or it’s someone who looks exactly like me from another realm. The mirror realm. Some people say mirrors are portals to another realm, so what if whoever the hell it is in the mirror wants to switch places with me? No one would know about that. If they managed to switch with me, no one will ever know about it. How could I escape from the other side? What if I die in the realm that exists beyond this mirror before me? Oh, hell no. Stop thinking about such absurd thing, Sophie.
I shake my head, pushing the strange thought to the back of my mind and put my attention back on my reality. The shower has turned my slightly wavy, dirty blonde hair wet. I should dry it off now before I get out of the bathroom.
I dance and hum a little to the song that plays in my mind: Closer by The Chainsmokers. This song is too catchy to be easily forgotten. It’s been months, but the song still stuck in my head. You could say this song is addictive. The best summer song at the moment.
Feeling my hair getting dry, I turn off the hairdryer and bring my eyes to the mirror. My eyes pop at the sight of my puffy hair. Fuck. Today is a bad hair day for me. It resembles lion’s mane at worst. Yikes. I hate this.
The sight makes me grimace. I try to save my hair by brushing it. Unfortunately, the action only makes my hair looks worse and even bigger than before. At last, I settle with my decision to put my hair in a messy bun instead of looking like a bird nest.
I smile at my reflection. Now I look so much better. I can’t never go wrong with this hairstyle. It always makes me look so cute and pretty. (Don’t judge me. I AM indeed cute and pretty. Always).
In my closet, I search through my clothes with my indecisive gaze. With my fist tucked under my chin, I continue to look for my cozy outfit for the day. The weather feels a bit cold today, so I end up wearing a navy blue sweater and a pair of black skinny jeans. It’s nothing extraordinary, but it’ll do for today. It’s not like I’ll leave the house and go somewhere cool. So, it’s perfect for now.
Once I’ve put on my clothes, a pair of fluffy brown slippers, and take my phone, I go straight downstairs. If Mr. Warren is already here now, I better hurry and meet him. I don’t want to anger the old man. Mr. Warren is a big deal for my dad, so I shouldn’t leave a bad first impression on him.
When my foot touches the first floor, I find no one around. The house is quiet except for the sound of the birds chirping outside. I shrug at the vacant place and go to the living room. With the TV already turned on, giving me a calming background noise, I lie on the couch and check my phone for any notifications from my friends.
What the- 38 messages and 5 missed calls from Claire?! How did I miss them? What happened to her? It only means one thing if she sends me this many messages and calls: someone got into an emergency.
Without thinking twice, I call her number. Anxiety courses through my body as I listen to the dial tone, waiting for Claire to pick up the call. After a few rings, Claire finally answers the call.
“SOPHIE!”
Out of reflex, my phone jumps out of my hand at the sudden loud noise. I take my phone from the carpet and sigh in relief when I see it unharmed. When my body has calmed down a bit, I put the phone against my ear again, still being cautious of Claire’s high volume voice.
“-are you there?” Claire asks. Worry is clear in her voice.
“Claire, calm down. Tell me what happened,” I say.
“I’m sorry. I-it’s Cody. He’s in the hospital again,” Claire explains anxiously. In my mind’s eye, I can see her pacing back and forth in the hospital hallway as she waits for news about Cody from the doctor. I frown at the image.
Again? Cody is in the hospital again? For the hundredth times? You might think I’m exaggerating, but it’s unfortunately the truth. Cody is a frequent visitor of our local hospital. I wonder what happened to him this time. I hope he’s going to be okay. Wait. He will. He always ends up fine after leaving the hospital no matter how bad his injury is.
“Is he okay? What happened?” I ask.
“He was in the bathroom. Because the floor was wet, he slipped and slammed his head on the sink. He passed out right away. That’s what his mother told me,” Claire says. She then sniffles as she holds back her crying, and my frown deepens at the sound.
I wish I could be there with her now and assure her that Cody will be okay. It’s too bad I can’t leave now. Even though Cody gets into accidents often, Claire always gets anxious over his condition. She always thinks every day could be her last day with him. Well, I get her concern. Death always comes unexpectedly, so I understand her fear of losing Cody despite the countless times he’s survived near-death experiences.
“It’s okay. Don’t worry about him. He’s gone through the same thing so many times before. He’s survived this before, so I’m sure he’ll survive this one, too,” I say, trying to give my friend the reassurance she needs.
“What if he doesn’t survive this time?” Claire asks.
“He will, Claire. He will. I wish I could be with you now, but I need to stay home for a bit longer. My dad wants me to meet someone. I’ll get there as soon as I could, okay?” I say.
“You’re right. He’s going to be okay. Don’t worry about me. I’ll see you later,” Claire says, sniffling and then lets out a sigh. Despite her attempt to make me less worried, I know that deep down her anxiety is still eating her from the inside. She won’t truly calm down until she gets good news about Cody. I hope she’ll get it anytime soon. I hate hearing her sad like this.
“I’ll see you soon,” I say.
After hanging up the call, I put my phone down next to me and stare at the ceiling, contemplating about Cody’s condition. The worst case possible, he might’ve gotten a severe concussion and internal bleeding from hitting his head on the sink. I really hope that’s not the case. I hope it’s nothing serious and just a mild concussion that won’t affect his well-being that much.
Now that you’ve got a glimpse of Cody, let me introduce him to you properly. As you may have already guessed, Cody is one of my best friends and Claire’s boyfriend. That’s why she’s worried sick about his well-being at the moment. From all the accidents he has went through, you could say he’s one of the clumsiest person in the world. Mild or severe, he has gone through them. The mildest ones are as simple as stubbing his toe against a furniture and cutting his finger while chopping vegetables. As for the severe one, he fell down a cliff and into the ocean while we were hiking a seaside hill. It’s quite surprising that he’s still alive to this day, but I’m glad he does.
Although he’s a very clumsy person, he has something to be proud of. Cody has always been gifted with a brilliant mind in math and physics. He always scores A- and above in those subjects. Never less than that. Cool, right?
At first, I thought his intelligence in math and physics was caused by one of his accidents. For example, he banged his head on the wall on accident, and then bam! He can suddenly speak Russian, and then bam! Now he can play the saxophones. Thankfully, that’s not the case with math and physics. He’s always been into math since he was three, so yeah. He’s always been naturally gifted in math and then later on he picked up on physics as well.
Here’s a snippet of one of our conversations:
“Are you smart because you bang your head all the time? I’ve read things like that do happen to some people,” I said.
“No, no. It’s not like that,” Cody chuckled. “My parents figured out my interest in math since I was three. Once they found out about that, they taught me basic math, and then I excelled quickly at those. After that, they made me take math lessons so my potential won’t go to waste.”
“Okay, Mr. Mathematics. That’s so rad. At that age, I didn’t even know the result of 1 + 1,” I said, still in disbelief of how smart Cody has always been.
“As cool as it sounds, I barely knew how to use the potty at five years old,” Cody said.
My eyebrows furrowed at the unexpected confession. I wouldn’t ever tell a soul about such secret and would take it to the grave. By the looks of it, Cody probably didn’t expect to tell me about it.
“What?” I asked.
“Huh?” Cody said, staring at me obliviously as if he didn’t just say his darkest secret a few seconds ago. I didn’t press him any further and change the subject of our conversation.
That was how our conversation went. What a strange but funny conversation.
And then there’s Claire, one of my girl best friends. She’s great at memorizing literally everything, and that’s why she’s good with every subjects, especially history. However, being someone with such great memorization skills has its downside. There are memories she can’t easily forget, like an awful relationship with his ex boyfriend, accidents, and many other terrible things she’s went through. But overall, she’s always been a great friend, although she can be a bit dramatic at times, but that’s just how she’s always been, and I don’t mind it because sometimes she does have good reasons to be dramatic about the things she’s facing.
With a sigh, I stare at the ceiling again, bringing myself back to the present moment. As I wonder about Mr. Warren’s arrival, my eyes get heavier each second. My consciousness slips away from my body as drowsiness takes control over it. I let myself drown in my sleepiness and close my eyes, deciding to take a quick shut-eye before Mr. Warren arrives at the house.
