The Bottom Shelf Review

Mom

“Mommy” I tugged on my mom’s shirt lightly; my toys neatly arranged in the living room behind me.

“Yes, Chelsea.” My mom was doing dishes unenthusiastically. Her loud sighs audible over the running water. After staying up all night for work, she was clearly not up for my antics, but I couldn’t care less as I tugged hard enough for the wrinkles on her Dave Mathews sweatshirt to straighten out. Eventually, she looked at me.

“Yes – Chelsea.” She gazed down at me her face scrunched in annoyance, that soon gave way to something much more tender, as she saw how nervous I was.

“Mommy…” I met my mom’s gaze, my hands nervously fiddling with my t-shirt. “I-I- love you.” She smiled down at me. I was her whole world.

“I love you too baby.” She knelt down and gave me a big hug. The smell of clean laundry and hairspray filled my nose, as I was engulfed in a sea of green cotton.

I don’t remember the first time I said “I love you.” What I know about the moment has been stitched together from my moms ever changing accounts of the day. For each audience my mom changes the story slightly, however one fact always remains the same; after that day everything changed. I was always a shy kid, who preferred to keep to myself and wouldn’t say much, but once I discovered those three magical words, nothing could stop me. No bird, stray cat, or rock was safe from my seemingly boundless love. My mom grew so concerned she almost took me to a counselor, but my dad, a social worker and the voice of reason in my crazy family, told her I was fine. ‘She’s just a kid she’ll grow out of it soon’ he said. When I first heard that part of the story, I couldn’t help but laugh at how right my he was. I had grown out of it, as though “I love you” were the Monster High Dolls I stopped playing with in sixth grade, and had buried in my attic after my best friend teased me for still playing with dolls. For years the dolls stayed there, until I moved out and decided to display them in my apartment.

Mrs. C

I stepped through the door, snot dripping down my nose; my hand clutching a tissue box. My tiny Dora the Explorer backpack weighing a thousand pounds as I tried to get to my desk. I was so weak and tired, my little legs unable to muster the strength to take one more step, so I started to cry. It wasn’t a nice, quiet cry, but the loud ugly cry of a child who had not yet learned to hide their emotions. I felt all the eyes in the room trained on me, each person thinking of the best way to tease me about this later, except Mrs. C, my first-grade teacher. She treated each of us gently, as though we were her own children. Her room always smelled like earthy essential oils and was decorated to look like a rainforest, with trees covering the walls and stuffed monkeys and panthers scattered around the room. Each student was assigned their own animal, which was taped to the front of their desk; mine was a jaguar which I was ecstatic about. Every day, I was so excited to go to school, but in that moment, with tears streaming down my face, I would have liked nothing more than to be at home in bed.

I don’t remember Mrs. C bending down or any of the buildup to the embrace, all I remember is the strong scent of wood and the calming safety which comes with being held. She didn’t say anything just held me until I stopped crying. When she pulled away, I quivered, my sick body struggling now that it had to support itself.

“Chelsea.” I looked up at Mrs. C through eyes blurred from tears, as I wiped my leaky nose on my hand. “Are you feeling better?” I nodded and started to move to my desk, hyper aware of my classmates still staring at me and the muffled giggles coming from some tables. I made it halfway before Mrs. C stopped me. “Why don’t we go to the nurse Chelsea?” She held out her hand; her person still barely visible as new tears threatened to escape my eyes. I nodded my head, eyes trained on the floor, as I took her hand.

We had almost made it out the door when I looked up at her and said, “I love you Mrs. C.” I still remember her face twisted in confusion and concern. I quickly looked away, any joy or comfort I felt immediately leaving my body.

“That’s…nice sweetie.” We didn’t talk or look at each other for the rest of the walk to the nurse’s office. I got to go home early, but I sobbed the whole car ride. I learned a valuable lesson that day, a lesson my classmates never let me forget.

Lyra Parks

It was less of a kiss and more of a peck on the lips, but I was still reeling from it. I had just kissed Lyra Parks. Not only that, I was dating Lyra Parks, my best friend and the prettiest girl in 9^th grade. We were sitting on her twin bed, our clammy hands clasped tightly together as we watched Howl’s Moving Castle, when we both happened to look at each other. I leaned in and she followed suit. Our lips touched for not even a second, but it was long enough to send me into a panic. A panic that I prayed Lyra wouldn’t notice.

After the kiss she had gone back to watching the movie as though nothing had happened. Her face wasn’t cherry red, like I knew mine was, her hands weren’t shaking and I knew by the soft smile on her lips that her heart wasn’t beating at the speed of light. Her brain wasn’t overheating, like mine. She was calm and content.

In an attempt to hide my panic, I let go of her hand and wrapped my arms around her in one quick motion. I buried my head in her chest, in hopes of hiding my face. I could tell she was caught off guard as her body went rigid, but the surprise was short lived as she soon rested her right hand on my shoulder while her left started playing with my hair. We laid silently like this for the rest of the movie. As the final pan out scene of the castle started, Lyra broke the silence.

“You know Chels.” Her hand was still in my hair. “I love you.” I didn’t know what to say, we were just kids and had only been dating for a year, so I pretended to be asleep. “Chels-Chels.” She nudged me a little; her hand leaving my hair. “Are you awake?”

Darren

“Hey Chels is everything okay?” I clung to the anchor that was Sammy’s voice, as my thoughts threatened to drown me. “You don’t normally call.”

“He broke up with me.” My voice was shrill. All my strength going towards holding it together, as I sat on the cool linoleum tiles of my dorm room; the handles of my dresser stabbing me in the back.

“What-” She sounded just as shocked as I was. Darren and I had been together since we were first years and everything seemed perfect. “Darren broke up with you?”

“Yeah.” I hated how weak I sounded; how defeated and confused I felt.

“What happened? Why? Did he give a reason?” I was knocked off the anchor, each question a wave too strong for my weak grip.

“I don’t know we-” I paused, unsure if I should share. “We had a stupid argument. It was about those gummies – Peelerz. He was eating them and offered me one and I said ‘I’m good. I don’t think I like them very much,’ and then he said ‘What do you mean you don’t think you like them? We eat them all the time.’ He said it like this was some big issue and I kind of snapped at him. Then he got off the couch and said ‘Well all your friends like them so I don’t understand why you can’t. It’s not hard.’ I was so confused. What did my friends have to do with it? We argued for a while and he said something like ‘three years and you can’t do one simple thing for me,’ which made no fucking sense. Eventually he said ‘I’m done’ and kicked me out of his dorm over gummies. He broke up with me over fucking Peelerz.” I paused for a second to catch my breath, as I leaned forward and hugged my legs in an attempt to comfort and ground myself. “I guess it probably wasn’t about the gummies, but I-.”

“You what? Do you know what it was about?” Sam paused to give me a chance to reply, even though she knew one would never come. I never liked talking about my feelings.

“I don’t know Sam. I just needed to vent…I-I-” I leaned back against the dresser and the handles once again dug into my back. I wanted to tell Sam I loved her. She was my oldest friend. She’d seen me at my worst and my best, something Darren couldn’t even claim, but I just couldn’t. She said it to me all the time, but I just couldn’t do it. Couldn’t risk it. “-I miss you so much.”

“I miss you too Chels.” We sat on the phone for a little while longer. The silence comforting.

Dad

“Are you laughing?” I was sobbing, my body still recovering from my panic attack, and my dad was laughing. “Why are you laughing?” My tears kept coming, but the anger I felt completely overshadowed them.

“I’m sorry Chels. I just. You know why I’m laughing. Right?”

“Yeah.” The defeat in my voice was evident, as I sat down on my small couch. “Because I haven’t changed. Right?” I paused, my head in my hands, as I waited for him to correct me. “Because you’ve been listening to and watching me struggle with the same things for years. Because I haven’t done anything to change. Right?” I felt the red-hot tears roll down my face, each one scorching me to the bone. You haven’t changed. You’re still the same anxious wreck you were in middle school. Still the same scared, little kid packing her toys away in boxes.

“Not exactly. You have changed. The fact that you can tell me that you’ve been struggling for years is enough evidence of that.” He paused, likely waiting for me to interrupt, but I wasn’t going to, not this time. “Chelsea you -” I could hear the gears turning in his head as he tried to figure out what would get his point across without making things worse. “You like to make things hard for yourself. You’ve created all these silly rules and expectations for yourself and-Well, have they ever made your life better?” I took a while to reply; allowing his words to sink in. It was nothing he hadn’t said to me before, but something about this time felt different.

“No – they’ve only made life worse.”

“Exactly.”

“I’m scared. I’m scared of what will happen if I let go and- I-” I paused for a moment; my thoughts were jumbled. I had so much to say but the words wouldn’t come out. “I’m scared of messing up.”

“Listen Chels, I have a session in a few minutes so I have to go, but you don’t have to try and fix everything today, you just have to challenge one rule. One rule that is honestly stupid. Jenny’s a nice girl. She makes you happy. It doesn’t matter if it’s only been a few months. You’re not going to mess anything up. If anything, she’d be messing things up by rejecting you.” A loud, muffled bang came from my dad’s waiting room. Even at the age of 65 he was still taking on new patients, who were only getting more unruly as the years went on. “That’s my patient now; seems like today will be fun. I have to go. I love you Chels. Please try and be brave.”

“I love you too dad. Good luck.” I chuckled a little, a small smile forming on my face, as I looked around my apartment. Each room was filled to the brim with Knick knacks, and décor; each piece was a reminder of how much I’d grown, a triumph over my anxiety and fear, as I spent so many years hiding myself and my interests.

I took a long deep breath as I stood up from the couch and began to walk to my bedroom. I decided to distract myself by cleaning, which I desperately needed to do before Jenny came over. I stepped into my bedroom, still struggling to keep my anxiety at bay, and immediately locked eyes with Clawdeen Wolf. I stared at her for a while; remembering all those years she was trapped in my parents’ attic and all the times I’d wanted nothing more than to pull out all my old Monster High Dolls. I’d make it all the way to the box, but each time I went to open it I would remember the biting words of my classmates, teachers, and friends, that reminded me not to express myself or show emotions. This time though, as I stared at Clawdeen, I could only think of one thing. I can be brave.

Jenny

My head rested in the crook of Jenny’s neck. This was our routine. Every Friday after we both got off work, we’d get together, eat dinner, and watch something on TV; today it was The Bachelor. Normally, I’d be happily watching the contestants stumble through their relationships and commenting on every little thing, something Jenny graciously let me do, but today I had something much more pressing on my mind. I was going to tell Jenny I loved her. We had only been dating for 8 months and every part of my brain was screaming at me that it was a horrible idea – You’re going to fuck it up. You idiot she can’t love you. You mess everything up. – but my heart was telling a different story.

With Jenny everything just made sense. I had never been in a relationship like this before. I figured it was just the honeymoon phase and that things would calm down soon, but they never did. My heart still fluttered every time I thought of her and every kiss felt like our first one. Sammy said I was in love; that her husband made her feel that way. My family said I should go for it; that for once in my life I should take a risk.

I snuck a glance up at Jenny, and found her face bathed in the blue light of the TV. She was beautiful, each of her features from her dark black hair to the downward curve of her nose, was perfectly accentuated by the light. I began to rub my thumb over her fingers absent mindedly; my focus now completely on her as I let out a heavy sigh I’d been holding in for years.

“Yeah Chel’s.” She started down at me and gave my hand a little squeeze that sent my heart pounding. She smiled slightly and began to turn her head back to the TV.

“Jenny…” I sat upright and looked back at her. I can’t believe I’m doing this. Every part of my body screamed at me to stop. “I-I- love you Jenny and I’m sorry if that’s weird. You don’t have to say it back it’s just imp-” She giggled, a smile spreading over her face.

“Chels” she cupped my face with her free hand. “I love you too – silly. I was just waiting for you to say it.” I leaned in closer to kiss her, my heart still beating like crazy. I can’t believe I did that. She smelled like fresh laundry and stress relief essential oils. Like home.