The Memoir of Antonia Boots

Moving On
Like any good parents my mom and dad scheduled me appointments with a counselor, a doctor and a psychiatrist once they found out what I had been up to. Being a depressed teenager I was beyond annoyed with their actions.
“How are you feeling?” the counselor would ask her pen poised expectantly over a pad of paper as if she expected me to spout off an “I have a dream” caliber speech, over the complexities of being a depressed teenager in modern America.
“Fine,” I would respond to her rolling my eyes towards the ceiling as she scratched away at her pad over my one word.
“How has school been for you?”
“Fine,” I would answer once again hoping that this horrible hour would end.
The psychiatrist was a little bit better, but that was only because he had the ability to prescribe medications.
“How are you feeling?” He asked his legs crossed and pen poised over a pad of paper.
“I don’t know. I don’t feel like anything,” I answered.
“Did you know that depression in female teenagers is often linked to undiagnosed ADHD?”
“No,” I responded wondering how I would have possibly known that.
“Do you ever have trouble concentrating? When your taking a test do you hear the other people around you?”
“What do you mean?” My mother asked.
“For instance, do you hear someone else’s pencil as they write? Most of us are able to block that out, but not people with ADHD,” He responded as he stroked his short white beard.
“That sounds like Antonia. She never could concentrate. I couldn’t even get her to watch Sesame Street when she was little,” my mother answered getting very excited as she shifted around in her chair.
“Antonia?” the psychiatrist began, “Do you experience any of what I have been talking about?”
“Yeah, I guess,” I answered.
“She has a couple of teachers who complain that she is constantly looking at the clock.”
“Their classes are boring,“ I added feeling defensive.
“I am going to write you two prescriptions,” the psychiatrist began, “ one for an ADHD medication and the other one for depression. I will need you to come back in about a month to see how you are doing.”
I was soon disappointed to learn that my parents had purchased a fireproof lock box to store all the medications in.

December and January blurred together that year. Christmas was just like any other Christmas. There were presents, there were people, and there was food. Nothing special.
I was at my friend Julia’s house in late January or early February. I’m really not sure when exactly. It was late at night everyone else had gone to sleep long before us. We lay awake in her bed talking about the people we knew, school, and, of course, guys. She had a boyfriend that I had never met. I think that he went to another school.
“I’ve known James since we were in kindergarten,” Julia began, “ I was very disappointed when his parents sent him to a different school for high school. Of course he didn’t know that I liked him then.”
“How did you two get together?” I asked.
“I spent a lot of time with my older sister and her kids over the summer and he was working at the park, so whenever we went there I would talk to him. It was like a month before he finally figured out that I was flirting.”
“Yeah, guys are dense.”
“So anyway. It was a sunny day and I was sitting on a bench with Tyler, my sister’s son, when James came up to me. He said ‘Hi’ and talked about the weather a little bit, and finally he asked if I would like to go to MacDonald’s with him later and of course I said yes,” Julia spouted.
“Wow, that’s really great,” I responded trying to make it sound like I really believed that.
“It was so romantic,” Julia was quiet for a moment. I started to drift off a little bit. Suddenly she asked me a question, “have you and Don done it?”
“What?” I inquired startled by the question.
“You know, have you guys fucked?”
“No,” I answered shocked.
“Have you ever thought about it?” She continued.
“Yes. I know that he wants to.”
“But you don’t?”
“I don’t know. What about you?” I added quickly.
“James and I haven’t yet. He wants to. I’m sure he’s the one, but still I think we should wait a little bit longer,” she began, “What about you, do you love Don?”
“No, I don’t love him.”
“Then why are you with him?”
“I don’t know,” I answered.
“If you don’t know you should break up with him.”
“Maybe I will.”
“You should do it Monday and wear something really hot. I’ll help you pick out an outfit and you can borrow some of my clothes, and I’ll do your makeup.”
“Ok,” I said not sure of the correct response to her enthusiasm.
“Oh! And we’ll have to figure out what you should say.”
“Ok,” I said again, “I’m tired let’s go to sleep.”
“Ok” she responded rolling over. I pulled the covers around myself and began to think. I was breaking up with Don on Monday. I wondered how he would react. I imagined that he was going to be angry and that scared me, but Julia was right there was no sense wasting time with someone I didn’t love.
The next morning, after a quick breakfast Julia was ready to dress me up like a doll. She went through my collection of clothing and finding nothing adequate moved on to her collection. “Here, put this on,” she said throwing a very mini mini skirt at me.
“I won’t be able to sit down in that,” I commented holding it up.
“Just put it on,” she ordered, “It’s important to look hot when you dump someone. That way, you’ll really make him feel bad.” I put on the skirt even though I didn’t really want to make Don feel bad. I was actually more worried about him being angry. However, I put on the skirt anyway and it was barely long enough to cover me when I sat down.
“That’s perfect,” Julia commented before turning to search through a pile of shirts. She pulled out a nearly see through white button up shirt.
“I’m not wearing that with out something underneath,” I protested.
“Of course,” she responded before pulling a revealing purple tank top from my pile. She tossed them too me and I pulled off my shirt and pulled them on. “Perfect. Now, I just have to do your makeup and you’ll be beautiful.”
Beautiful. I didn’t know if that was even possible. I saw myself as ugly on the inside and out. I didn’t think there was anything that could change that, but the idea of it was enough to make me comply to Julia’s wishes.

Monday morning came and I was nervous. I wished that I had lied to Julia and told her that I loved Don. I was afraid to break up with him and that was why I had stayed with him so long. Now I felt as if I made a commitment and I couldn’t back down no matter how many knots my stomach tied itself into.
I was walking along the upstairs hallway of the school to my locker when Julia popped out of the restroom. “Come here,” she hissed grabbing me by the arm, “He’s waiting at your locker. You have to do it right away, but first let me do your makeup.”
“I don’t know about this,” I protested as she pulled out a tube of mascara.
“You’ll be fine. What are you going to say?”
“I don’t know. Sorry it’s over?”
“That is way too nice,” she began, “You should tell him that he’s not good enough for you.”
“I don’t want to be mean.”
“It’s not fun if you’re not mean,” she retorted. I looked at her as if she were crazy. How could breaking up ever be fun? I found it terrifying. “There finished,” she proclaimed proudly as she turned me towards the mirrors.
“Thanks,” I said taking a quick glance at myself, but not wanting to look for long.
“Alright, now get out there and do it before the bell rings.”
Back in the hallway I shuffled towards my locker paying no attention to the other people. I kept thinking about what I should say to him. Then I rounded the corner and there he was resting against the lockers reading a book. I wanted to just turn around and walk away, but I willed myself forward.
“Antonia,” he said catching sight of me and placing a finger in his book to mark his place, “How was your weekend?”
“Fine,” I answered quickly.
“So I was thinking…”
“Don, we’re over,” I blurted out. I looked at his face, scared of what I would see there. Then I turned and ran away.

I spent the next couple of days being very careful to avoid Don. In the classes we shared I made sure to get there after him and sit as far away from him as possible. During classes I could feel his eyes watching me. I feared finding myself alone with him. I could tell that he was angry with me. Band was the most difficult. We still sat next to each other. I had to come in just as band started so that he couldn’t talk to me and left as soon as it ended.
Finals started a few days later. I was in the cafeteria studying with John, a friend from grade school when Don came in. I buried myself in my book and hoped that he wouldn’t notice me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him approach our table.
“Can I speak to Antonia?” Don asked
“Sure,” John replied as he continued to read his book.
“I meant alone.”
John glanced at me. I tried to beg him with my eyes not to leave, “That’s going to cost you.”
“How much?” Don asked
“How much do you have?”
“How about five dollars?”
“Make it ten,” John responded. Don pulled out two fives and handed them to John. “See you later,” he said to me before getting up and walking away. Don sat down in his place and leaned across the table towards me. I pulled back against the seat.
‘Why?” he asked.
“Why what?” I asked shifting in my seat.
“Why did you break up with me?” He looked right into my eyes. I tried to determine what I saw there. Was he sad or angry? I wasn’t sure, but I knew that he scared me.
“I don’t know,” I responded not sure of how to answer him or how to explain to him without making him angry.
“I want you to give me a reason. Not any of this ‘I don’t know’ shit. You don’t break up with someone for no reason.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, “I’m not good at explaining myself.”
“I just want a reason. I deserve a reason,” he demanded. I shivered and looked towards the clock hoping that it would be time for the bell to ring and give me an excuse to get away from him. “Tell me,” he demanded leaning across the table and grabbing a hold of my arm.
“I just don’t want to be with you anymore,” I responded as I tried to free my arm from his grasp. I felt his nails digging into my skin as I attempted to wrench my arm away.
“Why? Did I do something?”
“We don’t work together,” I responded attempting to be diplomatic.
“What do you mean? What didn’t work?”
“I don’t know why,” I lied, “I just don’t want to be with you.”
“What did I do?” he demanded, “I must have done something.”
“No, it’s nothing you did,” I said trying to calm him as I suddenly found myself feeling guilty.
“Do you want to hurt me?”
“No, I don’t.”
“I think you do.”
“No.”
“You’re just trying to hurt me and manipulate me,” he accused.
“No. Why would I do that?” I asked.
“Because you’re a manipulative bitch,” he answered as the bell rang. He let go of my arm. I grabbed my backpack and book and ran for my locker.