Wide--eyed in the darkness, Carolyn lay awake in her bed staring up at the ceiling. Before she could stop it, another heavy sigh slipped out. There wasn't any getting around it; like it or not, the sun was going to come up.
Go to sleep already!
Her thoughts chased themselves as they had all night.
You're driving yourself crazy with all this worrying. It's all in your mind.
Turning onto her side, she yawned an empty, sleepless yawn and tucked her hand under the pillow.
Not being able to fall asleep is just one of those weird psychological quirks, like last summer before the trip and I was afraid I'd over sleep the alarm and miss the flight.
My anxiety is fueling itself.
All I'm doing is worrying and getting myself all stressed out. It won't be as bad as I imagine! It can't be!
Carolyn kicked off the rumpled sheets. Since going to bed almost eight hours ago, her every attempt to rationalize away her growing sense of dread provided no peace. No matter how she tried to convince herself she had nothing to worry about, she knew full well there are some events in life when reality outstrips any imagined consequences, and you find yourself living a nightmare far worse than anything you can possibly dream up.
Where her thoughts led her next, didn't help at all.
A convict on death row must experience apprehension like this as the final hour approaches ... the ultimate count down of terrifying anticipation.
She swallowed dryly and her toes and fingertips went a bit cold and tingly as a vision of her coming reality loomed in her mind. Pushing back the pangs of paranoia, she fled back into her thoughts.
What you've been going through over these last few days must be similar to what a condemned prisoner experiences. Time passes slowly, then as the date get closer, time speeds up. It seems like it'll never really arrive, never really be 'that' day. Then suddenly it's here, that day, the day you've dreaded; and when time has run out, facing the reality of what comes next must hit the doomed prisoner with an intensity most of us will thankfully never know.
But, I'm about to know!
With the dawning of that realization, her toes went from tingling to numb. The curtains were brightening, and the walls had lightened from gray to yellow. The sun was coming up. That day was here. The weekend had dissolved away in a blur, and over the last twenty--four hours, her every thought lay impaled upon the pins and needles of knowing what was coming.
Reluctant to get up, she watched the numbers on the alarm clock change with unsympathetic regularity. At 6:29, she hit the button rather than endure the alarm's irritating beep. When her bare feet touched the carpet, she was awash in an absolute sense of dread; and yes, she had to admit it, strangely, there was excitement too.
In the bathroom, she showered, though she'd bathed before going to bed. There really was no need to shave again, as she'd done that last night as well, but she couldn't help but do another quick touch up with the razor. Back in her bedroom and standing before her dresser mirror while considering what she should wear, which was usually a fun thing, caused the most unsettling emotions to swirl within her. She pulled open her underwear drawer, thumbing through the things on top. She knew there was no way she would dare wear anything old, or anything even slightly sexy, so she grabbed one of her newest bras along with a pair of pastel pink cotton panties. She dropped both on the bed, looking down at them for a long moment while thinking about what's next. A skirt might be easier, but since she didn't wear one very often, she didn't want her friends to suspect anything's up. She opted for the pair of Vanilla Star jeans and the L'Amore sleeveless button down shirt she'd bought on sale at Penny's before the semester began. For shoes, that was easy; she knew she couldn't go wrong with her pink Mary Jane ballet flats with the cute little straps and chrome buckles. Once she'd made her choices and had all her clothes lain out on the bed, her fingers were trembling and her palms were clammy as she began to get dressed.
When she stepped into the kitchen, her father looked up from his newspaper and offered, "Good morning, kitten," then quickly hid his eyes back in the sports section. Her mom launched into a valiant effort at run--of--the--mill conversation, as though today was just any other Monday, yet her anxiety showed through. Saying things like, "You look like you slept well," and, "Your hair sure looks pretty today," she was just a little too bright and perky. Then withdrawing into silence, she couldn't seem to stay still, wiping down the counter and moving things around while downing cup after cup of coffee.
Right now, for Carolyn it was a relief to sit down and have breakfast with just her mom and dad. Her little sister, Charli had left earlier. Charli attended middle school, which started an hour earlier than high school. Due to the school district being in such a financial bind, the administration was trying to save money by staggering school hours and using fewer busses. The financial situation was also a major reason why the school district had opted to participate in the study. What it all boiled down to was, if it weren't for a need for money, she wouldn't be in this situation at all.
To his credit, when her mom fell silent, her dad stepped in and did his best to act as though there wasn't anything different about today. They managed a little light conversation, and even laughed together when he read aloud one of the foam--at--the--mouth letters to the editor published in the paper's editorial section, which was in dire opposition to the controversial new study in social dynamics. According to the letter's writer, if the community allowed the study to happen as planned, rivers would boil with blood, flaming meteors would hurtle down from the heavens, and Obama would get elected to a third term.
Though her dad did his best not to show it, the tension was there. This was going to be tough on him, too. She could see it in his eyes. When he was just nineteen, only a year older than she is now, he joined the Marines. In his first tour of duty, he saw some of the fiercest combat during the Gulf War, and when she was about ten--years--old, at the scene of an automobile accident, she'd personally witnessed him risk his life pulling a woman and her two kids from a burning minivan. Yet here, this morning, her fearless hero couldn't manage to meet his daughter's gaze for more than a few seconds without looking away.
Again, he checked the wall clock, then rechecked his watch, downed the last of his coffee, and got up and gave his wife a quick kiss goodbye. Standing in the doorway framed by the morning's warm light, he smiled at his daughter and offered, "You really do look nice today, kitten."
Carolyn returned the smile, but it didn't feel real. "Thanks, Dad."
Her back to the kitchen counter and wringing her hands, her mother spoke up for the first time in a long while. "Come on everybody. We all knew today would come. Let's try to be positive. Remember what they said at the family orientation. Our attitudes are what will make all the difference, not just for the study's overall success, but for each individual's success, too."
