Sincerely, Anonymous

January 1

I kept my legs loosely crossed. My hands clasped together tightly in my lap, the knuckles a blotchy white. I rubbed my hands as discretely as possible. Trying to get the blood flowing in them. Trying so hard to keep from looking nervous. But she noticed, they always notice, and I silently cursed myself for not being more careful.

Like every other citizen of Moneta, the ‘great’ country in which we live under, I am subject to a number of psychological exams during my life. Unlike most other citizens of Moneta, I am thus far failing with flying colors.

“So your mother tells me you have been feeling anxious recently.” 

She said it like a question, like she expected some kind of answer, but I didn’t know what answer she wanted. My palms were sweating. I tried to rub them on my pants. The fabric would normally soak up the anxious liquid, but I had painted the pants over the week before in an attempt to rid myself of the regulation grey fabric. I regretted the decision as I watched my sweat bead up, a distinct sign of my anxiety.

My mind raced, looking for an answer that wouldn’t get a silver cuff snapped on my wrist. My eyes scanned the room. It’s sterile, empty, practical. Exactly like every other office in the Facility. I let my eyes fall back on her.

“My friend’s name is Brianna,” I blurted out as I read the woman's name tag, “she wants to be a psychologist too.”

“Thats not what I asked,” the woman, Brianna, replied.

Well you didn’t ask anything I thought, but I kept my mouth shut on that front and rambled on, “well she is a psychologist, going to be one at least, she was assigned back in July.”

And that is how I ended up walking out of there with a thin silver cuff on my wrist with the number 1958 on it, the code for anxiety. Brianna handed me a manilla folder that held my diagnosis, and I politely promised to hand it to the front desk. I walked out of there, pulling my shirt sleeve down to cover the cuff. Trying not to be noticed. At the very least, I am good at fading into the background.

I threw the manilla folder in a recycling chute on my way to the lobby, where Amy sat waiting for me, strewn across three chairs reading a large volume. I passed right by her, knowing that she would follow me out. We pretended not to know each other, with her walking at a safe distance behind me. Her silver cuff, reading 7853 for anorexia, shown in the bright September light. Once we were a safe distance away she caught up to me, her face as serious as ever.

“You got another one didn’t you,” she asked.

I pulled my shirt sleeve down further, avoiding her question.

“You know Kay is going to be furious with you right?” she said, not even bothering to wait for an answer before she continued, “this is your third one this month, and now is the time where you can’t be making mistakes.”

I finally turned on her, keeping my voice even, “I am not trying to make mistakes. This wouldn’t even be a problem if my mother would just stay away from the Facilities.” 

I could feel tears burning at the corner of my eyes at the mention of my mother. She used to be like a best friend to me, but now that she has been compromising my future our relationship had become strained to say at the least. 

Amy threw her arm over my shoulder, immediately changing from the harsh girl she had been just a few moments earlier. “Don’t worry too much about it, we can head over to find Kay and get this cuff off, ok?” she said, trying to be a soft as possible.

I nodded my head, glad that I decided to bring Amy today. It wasn’t like I had much of a choice, Amy was the only person I knew who had a cuff, and thus the only person I knew who could be in the Facilities without an appointment, but I am glad none-the-less.