Today was the day I would not apologize. I’d made a promise to myself and a promise to Daniel, my therapist. This time I was really going to make an effort.
I got out of bed and shuffled into the bathroom, bumping my hip on the doorknob. I opened my mouth to say I was sorry, but caught myself in time. First apology successfully averted.
In my car on my way to work, I switched lanes. There was a blue Honda in the lane I was merging into, but it was at least the distance of two vehicles behind me. Upon executing my merge, I ducked my head slightly and went to raise my hand to communicate, “My bad!” but instead I clenched the steering wheel more tightly. Second apology sidestepped.
Stopped at a coffee shop before I got to the office and ordered a latte. As I was getting out my credit card to pay, I suddenly had the urge to switch my drink to a vanilla latte. I’d earned it. I looked up and asked the barista if I could change my order. He smiled, “Of course!” Instead of saying thank you, I nearly said I was sorry, but again, I was able to stifle it. I beamed as I scribbled my signature on the receipt. BOOM. I was crushing this.
We had a meeting at nine in the morning, and I walked into the conference room at 8:55. There were already several people in attendance. I sat down next to my manager and attempted to smile at her. “Good morning, Lisa,” she said. “Yep. Hi Jane,” I replied. She wasn't my favorite person. I took a sip of my latte and leaned over to pull out my laptop from my bag. In doing so, I accidentally banged it against Jane’s knee and didn’t even glance in her direction. Who knew I’d be so good at not saying I was sorry! She cleared her throat in irritation. Whatever. I felt powerful. My stupid boss was not about to ruin this day.
Halfway through the meeting, I leapt up and abruptly vomited all over the table. Evidently the vanilla had been a poor choice.That’s too bad. I shrugged and retched again. Once I was done being sick, I stood up straight, dragged the back of my hand across my wet mouth, nodded curtly, and exited the room. Fuck it. I’d lost track of the number of apologies I’d avoided. Euphoria had descended.
Without hesitation, yet with great enthusiasm, I slapped Susan hard across the face at the reception desk for no reason whatsoever and threw her a wink as I pushed open the glass door and left the building. I sauntered over to my car, slid into the driver’s seat, and got out my cell to call my therapist. It went to voicemail. “You would be so proud of me. I haven’t apologized once. Not a single time!”
It wasn’t as satisfying, telling a machine. I crawled back out of my seat, went behind the car, and popped the trunk. Leaning forward, I peered at him, curled into a ball with his hands and feet bound, tape across his mouth. He was sweating profusely and his pupils were dilated. “I already left you a message, but I wanted to say it to your face, too. I’m pretty sure I finally conquered my tendency to apologize! We did it, Daniel!” With a grin, I slammed the trunk shut and got back behind the wheel.