I should have been more embarrassed, more in disbelief of my irrational behavior, but all I could feel was that sense of growing panic.
The employee looked around the store and came to some sort of decision.
“Come this way,” he said and spun on his heels.
“Okay,” I said, but my feet didn’t move. This same sense of dread kept me locked in place.
Seeming to notice I hadn’t followed, he turned back. “Can you walk?”
I sputtered as though the question was absurd. “Of course.”
We both looked at where my feet stayed put.
“Normally, they listen to me.” I tried to joke, but even as I chuckled, it sort of melted into a panicked sob.
“I’m going to help you, okay?” He said it in such a gentle way; asking permission but also still supplying a level of confident assurance I needed.
I nodded, sucking in my lips so that I wouldn’t make any more embarrassing sounds.
He tucked his arm through mine, gently guiding me into motion, and led me back through the door he’d initially come out of. Sure enough, it was behind the refrigerator section, and a toolbox sat next to an open panel exposing wiring. He tugged over a short wooden stool and led me to it. He helped me settle on to it before carefully releasing me to straighten. I took a cool and slow breath. The cold air and change of scenery helped. I didn’t feel as much like the world was ending or like I was dying.
He stood, legs spread, one hand scratching his beard as he seemed to contemplate me. “Just take a few deep breaths,” he instructed.
I wasn’t usually one for being told what to do, but at this moment, having someone command the situation was exactly what I needed.
I took a deep breath in and out. He nodded with approval.
“Anybody I can call for you?” he asked.
“No. I’m all alone,” I said, and my voice squeaked.
“Are you okay?” he asked, and I felt like he actually meant it. Not in the way a stranger should mean it, like he was concerned for me.
It was too much. His gentle question pushed me over the edge. He didn’t want to be here, but he still asked. I shook my head. “I mean that I just got to town. I’ve had an interesting few days. I’m not okay. I’m a mess. I slept in my storage unit last night because my boyfriend just kicked me out. Just like that. No warning.” His forehead crinkled, and I would likely be embarrassed about that overshare later. I flopped my hands out. “Delayed reactions. Sometimes that happens. It takes me a while to feel what I feel, and then suddenly, five days later, I’m sobbing. In the sixth grade, my dog had to be put down. It was literally days later, watching some TV show, when I just started sobbing uncontrollably. It was wild.”
He frowned and dropped his hands to tuck them both in the pockets of his jeans.
“Normally, choosing what sort of creamer I want doesn’t send me into a spiral, believe it or not.”
He nodded again, but his body language remained that of a man who would rather be anywhere else on the planet. Even I could see that.
“Do you still need the facilities?” His voice was rich and deep and matter-of-fact; his tone soothing despite the humiliating question.
I dropped my face into my hands. The skin was burning hot. “No, I’m okay. My insides just riot when I’m having any emotions. I typically try not to have them.” I laughed again but it was manic sounding still.
“Try not to have emotions?” he asked.
I shrugged.
“That works?”
“Yes.” I nodded but it wobbled into a head shake. “No. I am so sorry. This is not normal behavior for me. I probably need a friend to talk to, but besides my father, I don’t really have anyone besides Kevin.” I sucked in a breath. “And now he’s gone too. I can’t talk to my online friends about this; it’s not something you can gently toss between hilarious memes. ‘Hey, my boyfriend left me because he’s only driven by money and lost all the ethics he once had. But also, by the way, I’m fundamentally broken, so it’s probably my fault.’ Oh my God.” My hands flew to my mouth and covered them to stem any more words that might try to escape. “I have to stop talking.”
Truly, though, this stranger had already seen it all. Unmasked and unfiltered. More than anybody else in my life that I actually knew. Even at this moment of shock, there was a wild freedom in this confession. I could tell him anything. Get it all off my chest so I could move on.
I looked up at him, eyes still hidden behind cloudy plastic. I let the truth rip out of me.
“I-I think there’s just something wrong with me. Aside from all this.” I tossed up my arms to gesture wildly around my head. “I have this thing, it’s like this secret compartment I keep tuckedaway that makes me operate differently. From stories, I’ve heard that my mother was similar. I just never know when to quit. There’s a little voice that says, okay, stop now, but I ignore it and keep going. Like right now, for example.”
