She ignored me, too focused on defending my honor to actually hear what I was saying. “I’m going over there.”
Desperation had me lunging across the table and cuffing her wrist. With strength I didn’t feel, I kept her from walking off to confront my ex.
“Stop it,” I hissed, panic making my voice unsteady.
I didn’t want a scene. I definitely didn’t need my sister to draw attention to the drama that was my life. I couldn’t stand the thought of Danny seeing me this way, thinking I was anything butjust fine.
I didn’t pull out my big-sister tone very often, but I couldn’t abide this. “Sit down, MacKenzie Eloise.” But as the sound reached my ears, I realized my voice had come out broken and choked, like a call that had lost signal, pieces and parts dissolving into nothing.
Fear raised my heart rate, and my breath was coming too fast.
Mac’s eyes widened, and she lowered herself to her seat in a hurry. “Shit. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Bonnie. I wasn’t thinking. Just breathe.”
I did. I took great gulps of air as my nose started to tingle, always the first sign I was about to lose control—lose the fight against my anxiety.
Dammit. I did not want to do this here. I closed my eyes and focused on breathing in the here and now, the way my therapist had taught me. I listened to the rush of air through my nose, accompanied by the soundtrack of pins crashing and people talking. With every inhale, I catalogued the scent of fried food and decades-old cigarette smoke embedded in the furniture. My hands pressed into the smooth surface of the table, over and over.
I didn’t know how long it took, but eventually my breathing evened out and my eyes opened. Mac and Candace and Joan were watching me worriedly. I didn’t want to explain or discuss the anxiety attack I’d avoided just now. And I definitely didn’t want to spend the next hour bowling.
“I’m sorry, Bon,” Mac whispered again.
I nodded because I knew my little sister meant well.
“I think I’m going to head out.”
“That’s not a good idea,” Joan said at the same time Candace insisted, “No, Bonnie. You shouldn’t be alone.”
“I’ll come with you,” Mac pleaded, guilt making her forehead wrinkle.
Shaking my head, I gripped the table and got to my feet. I was mostly steady. I could walk out of here and drive home and be just as fine as I pretended to be.
“It’s been a long day. I’ll catch y’all later.”
I didn’t look around to see if the coffee shop team on the next lane had seen me spiral out of control. Warmth was coming back into my face, a telltale blush working its way up from my neck.
With controlled movements, I gathered my bag and made for the exit. I wasn’t stopping to change out of my bowling shoes.
When I passed by the concession stand, I glanced up to see Danny standing there with Keaton. His gaze met mine, and I was pretty proud when my steps didn’t falter.
His brows furrowed, and his lips formed my name, but I didn’t wait around to find out what my ex-husband would have said or done. I looked away and kept right on walking.
I was careful on the drive home, hands clutching the steering wheel as I focused on the beams from my headlights. At home, I left my clothes on the floor and changed into pajamas.
When I was lying in bed, I closed my eyes and remembered the last time I felt calm and in control—texting Jack in the middle of the night. It was easier to focus on that than the spectacle I’d made of myself tonight. I should have been relieved that I’d avoided a panic attack. My therapist, Nina, would have been proud of me, and I would tell her about it during our next scheduled virtual session. But I couldn’t seem to find the relief. The sudden onset of emotion had been so very public.
Rationally, I knew it was silly to feel embarrassed or vulnerable. I was close to Candace and Joan and Mac. They weren’t judging me or thinking less of me. But it was easier to hide certain parts of myself. Better to avoid being an inconvenience to the people in my life.
There had been a few panic and anxiety attacks in the months since my separation from Danny. Centering myself tonight, remembering the techniques Nina had taught me, and finding calm in the middle of the storm had been a big step.
“Three favorites,” I murmured into the quiet room. Then I started with pizza toppings and moved on to ice-cream flavors. Next, I recited my favorite summer Olympic sports, followed by winter. Weary and exhausted from the long day and emotional upheaval, I was asleep before I hit the downhill luge.
Friday afternoon rolled around with another knock on my classroom door.
“Hey, Bon.”
But it wasn’t my principal with news to deliver.
It was my ex-husband.
