I Wish You All the Best(55)

Part of me just wants to say fuck it, but high schools are rarely the most progressive places on earth, and the ridicule would probably be endless. “No.”

“Okay, when you’re ready to take it off use this.” She hands me polish remover. “Just get some cotton balls and it should come off no problem.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it, kiddo.” She ruffles my hair and grabs the towel. I just sit there for a while, staring at my hands. “Now let’s do the top coat. I don’t want all my work to go to waste.”



“So, do you think you know what triggered it?” Dr. Taylor asks in her usual pose: legs crossed, head propped up with her hand, notepad on her lap.

“I don’t really know, there was a lot of noise and people. And this guy, Todd, he was drunk and talking to me and he had me in a headlock for a bit.”

“Do you normally have a problem with people touching you, Ben?”

“Not all the time, but there are some days I just can’t stand it.” I can remember a few times where family members I hadn’t seen in ten years pulled me into hugs, or when total strangers tried to shake my hand. Even with Mom and Dad, there were days they’d hug me, or sit close to me on the couch, and I’d feel ill. “Even with people I’m close with.”

“Hmmm.” Dr. Taylor hums and straightens her glasses.

“It feels worse during the panic attacks.”

“Touch aversion can be common in people who deal with panic attacks, or people dealing with anxiety. In fact, there are some people who are just born or develop that way, like asexual or aromantic people.”

“Oh,” I say. I’d never really thought of myself as ace or aro. I mean, sex isn’t really something I have a strong desire for, but it’s something I might be open to. And I’ve had sort-of-romantic feelings for people before. I suppose I’m also currently having those romantic feelings.

“Can you remember any other cases where someone touching you like that made you have a panic attack?”

“Not really. I’ve sort of been thinking something though. Like maybe it wasn’t the touching. He just had his arms around me and he wouldn’t let go. And there were so many people.”

“This was at a party, right?” She writes something down.

I nod.

“Did you have anything to drink?”

“No,” I lie, because I’m not exactly sure what she will and won’t report to the police, or if she’ll even do something like that.

“I’m not going to tattle on you, Ben,” she says like she’s read my mind, which would probably be a lot easier than all of this back-and-forth. “Lord knows I was eighteen once too.”

“I was given a shot, and a sip of beer. I didn’t really want them, but everyone was staring at me and I felt like I had to do them.”

“I’m guessing you read the warnings about mixing alcohol with your medication?”

I nod, not meeting Dr. Taylor’s gaze, as if that’d help me avoid the shame I’m feeling right now. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re young, Ben, and I understand the desire to fit in with those around you. But alcohol does tend to inhibit your thinking. You made a mistake, just try to be more careful in the future.”

“I will.” I’d already realized that drinking wasn’t for me anyway.

“Do you think your current dosage is doing enough?”

“If I’m being totally honest, no. It doesn’t feel like much has changed up here.” I point to my head.

“Well, the medication isn’t a permanent fix, Ben, as much as we’d like it to be. It’s there to help balance you out, but it doesn’t get rid of the anxiety.”

“I know, I’m just worried I’m taking it for nothing.”

Dr. Taylor writes something down. “We’ll try a temporary increase in the dosage, see how that works. Sound good?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

“The panic attack, do you think it might have been a sensory overload sort of thing?”

“I’m not really sure,” I say. Isn’t she supposed be the one with all the answers? “Maybe.”

“And do you recall what brought you out of this situation?”

“My friend was there, Nathan.”

“They brought you through it?”

“Not exactly, but I got outside and he followed me. I guess just having him there helped?”

“So joint effort?” She smiles. “That’s something.”

“I guess.”

“Are you comfortable around Nathan?”

“Yeah, most of the time, at least.”

“Most of the time?”

“Sometimes I get really nervous around him.”

“Any particular reason why?”

“None that I can think of.” Except maybe it’s because I like him? And maybe I like the thought of holding his hand, of being close to him. And maybe I want to go further than that. And maybe I’m terrified of what will happen if we do.

“I’m happy to hear you’ve got someone you can trust,” she says, then her eyes move down to my hands. I doubt it’s the first time she’s noticed my nails, but she hasn’t said anything before now. “That’s a beautiful color.” She nods. “Did you do those yourself?”