I force myself to smile even though it comes out wobbly and my vision is swimming. “I’m fine.”
Keri pulls me over to a bench. The cold seeps through my jeans when I sit, but it feels good against my flushed skin. Tiny snowflakes fall, only visible under the yellow glow of the streetlights illuminating the parking lot.
People exit the mall, excited chatter about the impromptu serenade hovering in the air with their breath. Everywhere around me, things move. People. Cars. Snow. I shut my eyes and search for some stillness. Some peace.
Where is Your peace, God?
“Want to talk about what just happened?” Keri asks.
I open my eyes.
She takes the rolls and packages from me and sets them onthe other side of her. My jacket is wrapped around my shoulders. I pull the down coat closed at my middle and fold my body, hunching my shoulders.
Keri retrieves the cinnamon rolls and hands me mine. “Take a bite,” she commands. “The sugar might help.”
Dutifully, I comply. My teeth sink into the baked treat, sugar and spice playing on my tongue.
“Better?” she asks after I’ve eaten almost half of my roll.
I nod, though I curl into myself more.
“Good. Now talk.” She’s turned into an interrogating bad cop, and I know I’m not going to be allowed to leave without some sort of explanation. She has the keys to the car, after all.
I shrug, hoping she’ll deescalate from her bloodhound stance. “I just got a little overwhelmed is all.”
One sculpted brow rises in a pointed manner. “A little overwhelmed? Honey, even I could tell you were having a panic attack.”
I shrug again.
Keri sighs. Looks away. Looks back at me. “I’m guessing this isn’t the first time this has happened. Have you seen anyone about it? Talked to anyone?”
“I’m talking to you,” I offer.
Her lips thin.
I sigh. “I talk to God in prayer about it all the time.” The white huff of breath my words travel on barely leaves my mouth before dissipating.
“Good. That’s good.” She nods, and I think that’s it.
I’m wrong.
“What about a professional?” she presses.
I slide my arms into the sleeves of my coat, then zip it up. “I just need to have more faith. God can take away my anxiety.”
She blinks at me like I’m back in my Star Trek outfit, speaking Klingon, so I try again.
“‘If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can sayto this mountain, “Move from here to there,” and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you,’” I quote from the book of Matthew. “Three times Jesus told those He’d healed that it was their faith that made them whole. See? I just need to have more faith.” My eyes warm with a rush of fresh tears. I widen them, hoping the cold air will dry them out. I don’t want to cry anymore.
“Mackenzie.” Keri says my name in a way that pleads with me to look at her.
Slowly I turn my head and raise my gaze. Her nose is pink. I’d think the cold air the culprit if not for the telltale sheen making her own eyes glisten.
She takes my hand and holds it between hers. “If I were to slip on black ice right now and land so hard that I either sprained my ankle or broke it, and we didn’t know which, what would you do?”
I cock my head, trying to figure out where she’s going with this question. “I’d take you to the emergency room to get an x-ray.”
“To a professional,” she reiterates. “Because something is wrong, and it needs to be checked out by a doctor so it can heal properly.”
