Nancy closed her eyes for a moment, and let her thoughts roam free again. During class at Kroeber Hall yesterday, Nancy daydreamed while she sat at the potter's wheel.
As the burgundy clay danced between her fingers, she thought of Quentin. Her mother told her that this day would come. Nancy, I know you have feelings for him. But things are going to change once you start school at Berkeley. You're going to meet new people, and Springwood will fade more and more as you come into your own.
On their last night together in Springwood, Nancy wondered if she and Quentin should have sex. It seemed like the normal thing for a teenaged couple to do. Who knew how long it'd be before they saw each other again? But they just spent the night holding each other, and listening to some podcasts that Quentin found interesting.
It was ironic how everything worked out. They spent most of their lives orbiting around each other—avoiding eye contact and speaking in hushed tones. And when it came time to admit their feelings for each other, it was only because Freddy Krueger manifested. When your life is threatened, what once seemed like an obstacle suddenly becomes conquerable. But they weren't exactly star-crossed lovers. Quentin and Nancy shared a dirty secret, and it wasn't just the one that involved their parents.
Nancy didn't know how she was going to break up with Quentin. It wasn't the sort of thing that you texted to someone. With such a distance between them, Nancy wondered if Quentin felt the same way. But what if he didn't? What if he asked for a reason why?
"I feel compelled to be with you sometimes because you saved my life. I was going to be trapped forever by that fucking bastard."
"I feel ashamed that you saw those pictures of me being molested—even though you experienced the same thing. But it was different because he didn't take pictures while he did it to you to commemorate the moment."
"Because you're always so careful with me. Like you're afraid that I'm going to break at any moment. Nobody wants to disturb poor Nancy. She might have a breakdown or go emo on all of us."
"Because you've been acting like a jealous prick. I know you don't like my new look, my friends, or that I didn't go all political like you would have done if you attended Berkeley."
"I want to go back to feeling that not everything is a complete lie. It's already hard enough that I have to face and talk to my mother everyday. She tried to bury all of this, and look how fucked up I am."
"I feel awkward enough kissing you. I can't imagine sharing my body with you. I almost felt forced to do it when it was our last night together. I don't know if I would've just lied there or strangled you with your ear bud."
"I'm slowly losing my mind because I've been losing time."
Out of all the reasons, Nancy never imagined her losing time would be one of them. It became apparent to her a few months ago.
There was one Monday that she started her first class at 9:00am. The next thing she knew, Nancy was standing in her dorm room. The window was wide open, and she was just staring outside. She was clad in her underwear. Nancy turned her attention to the clock and it was 6:45pm. When Nancy checked her phone, she saw that her mother left four messages. Nancy called her mother, and lied about doing a time-consuming project at Doe Library.
Another time, Nancy decided to kill time at the Berkeley Art Museum and Pacific Film Archive. There was a student film on radio broadcasting. As she waited for the doors to open, Nancy remembers studying a minimalist painting. Then, Nancy found herself at a Starbucks. It was three hours later. She was in mid-conversation with a guy that she didn't recognize. Nancy excused herself abruptly, and before the guy could fully express his confusion, she was darting back to her dorm. There were other times that Nancy was losing time, but they were not as extreme. She was able to snap out of her stupor before things grew unrecognizable.
Nancy couldn't pin losing time on sleep deprivation. She was taking a dream suppressant, so there was no difficulty falling asleep. There weren't any micro-naps to be concerned about. Nancy looked online to see if there were any strange side effects associated with the drug. She didn't find anything. Nothing to make Nancy brush everything off like it was a minor inconvenience. She couldn't just change her dosage to make it all go away.
So, once again, Nancy felt that uneasiness in the pit of her stomach. Her friends would ask if she was okay from time to time. Even though Nancy was pretending that she was fine, there was no mistaking her anxiety. Why else was she always chipping away at her nail polish? Lies, lies, lies. Nancy wondered if she was all that different from her mother.
As she sat at the Berkeley Rose Garden, Nancy was formulating a plan. She needed to get help, but not from her mother. Her mother would overreact just like she did for everything that concerned Nancy. Maybe Nancy could talk to someone at the Tang Center. Whatever she decided, it would be her move alone. She didn't want anybody interfering, and clouding her judgment. Nancy was into survival.