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The drive is fast, my back ramrod straight as I check the rearview mirror for the tenth time. Nothing is behind us but open road.
“What’s wrong, Mom? Why were Coach B and that guy fighting?” His voice is hesitant, but as I meet his eyes in the rearview mirror, the blue so similar to mine, he looks worried.
“It’s fine, honey. It’s fine.” My voice trails off, not answering him because I’m mostly trying to reassure myself.
Cooper’s quiet after that, and my brain whirls, replaying the scene at the football field but overlapping the way I felt with Kyle’s pointing finger in my face with Jeremy’s accusations and insults.
It’s hitting me hard, flashbacks of arguments and sneered insults that made me feel small, accusations that made me doubt myself. I haven’t had a panic attack like this in years. I didn’t think it would ever happen again, but here I am.
My breathing quickens, trying to force oxygen into my too-tight chest, and my whole body gets tingly as adrenalin floods my veins. Rationally, I know there’s nothing to be scared of here in my car. I left the threat behind at the football field. But my brain doesn’t care about rational and reasonable logic.
Bitch. His finger in my face. He hit me. Jeremy. Kyle. Bruce. People watching.
Run. Save Cooper. Run.
They’re not complete thoughts, just words floating across my mind like a scrolling marquee, the red LED lights flashing in warning.
My fingers tap on the steering wheel, but I can’t find a rhythm and it’s more drumming than the anxiety-alleviating pattern I usually employ.
I pull into the driveway at home, a fleeting thankfulness at the closeness of my house trying to take root, but my brain swats the positive thought away like an annoying mosquito. “Inside. Let’s go.”
Cooper unbuckles his seatbelt and rushes inside with me, fear etched on his face.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He doesn’t need to see this. He shouldn’t have seen that at the field. Is he scared of me? Bruce? Kyle?
The small bit of control and awareness I have takes hold for a moment. I squat down, eyes meeting Cooper’s, and I promise him, “Everything’s fine. Mom just got a bit nervous at the field so I thought we should come home.” I can hear the false robotic note to my voice, but I can’t change it. It’s taking all I have to speak this calmly and not scare him further.
“Okay, Mom.” I hug him to me, letting the sweaty boy smell of him ground me, feeling him solidly and safely in my arms. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, hot and painful, but I blink them away so he doesn’t see.
“Go to your room for a little bit for me, okay?” He nods and scurries down the hallway.
It’s the last bit of restraint I have. Even as I know it’s ridiculous, I’m in survival mode, and I can’t help but check the lock on the front door and then the windows. I peek through the blinds, looking at the driveway that’s empty except for my car.
He’s not coming.
I’m not sure who ‘he’ even is . . . Kyle, Jeremy, Bruce? All of them? The image of the three of them converging on my lawn is ridiculous but not enough to stop the panic.
I’m glad . . . about Kyle and about Jeremy, who’s not a threat, anyway, since I don’t even know where he is now. I’m sad that Bruce isn’t here to hold me and soothe this panic away.
I don’t need him. I can do this on my own.
I sit down in the living room floor, crossing my legs in front of me and laying my hands on my knees. I close my eyes, inhaling as I count in my head, holding the too-deep breath until it stretches my chest, then exhaling. I repeat it several times, so many times that I lose count and drift into my subconsciousness, feeling dissociated from my body as if I’m floating.
Knock, knock, knock.
The firm knock on the door startles me. But I’m slightly calmer now and able to get up and peek through the peephole. It’s Michelle.
Relief, cool and cleansing, washes over me.
“Open the door, Allyson. Now.” She’s doing that mom voice thing again, which under any other circumstances would make me smile. Now, I just do as she says, slowly cracking the door.
She busts through anyway. “Where’s Cooper?”
“In his room.”
Michelle looks at Liam. “Hey, can you go play with Cooper for a bit? We need some Grown-up Talk Time.” I can hear the capitals, like she’s naming a game we’re going to play or a show we’re gonna watch. I think I’m the show, though.
Once Liam is behind Cooper’s closed door, Michelle narrows her eyes, all cursory lightness dissipating. “First things first, come sit down and let me look at that cheek.”
