Page 102 of Apparently, I’m Trouble

Mia seemed a little stunned but slid a finger across her lips and mimed throwing a key away.

“Hey,” I answered, trying to sound calm. “Everything all right?”

“She’s having a panic attack,” Rochelle burst, and I was on my feet in an instant, my chair knocking back with a thud.

Mia looked up at me with wide eyes as I spoke into the phone. “You’re sure it’s a panic attack?”

“Of course I’m fucking sure! What do I do? Tell me what to do.”

“Calm down, Rochelle. Get her to slow her breathing.”

“How?”

“Breathe with her. Get her to count to ten. Then make her point out five things she can see in the room.”

Mia tapped my arm, and that was when I realized I’d been pacing. I was in a panic. I needed to get out of here–to get to my daughter.

“Ask Rochelle to put on Kira’s favorite song,” Mia whispered, and her voice was so low I almost didn’t hear her.

“Put Espresso on,” I ordered into the phone.

“And tell Rochelle to sing it with her,” Mia murmured.

“And sing it with her,” I repeated.

“Okay,” Rochelle agreed, and in the background, I heard the opening of Kira’s favorite pop song. “Now what?”

As if Mia could hear Rochelle, she said, “Get Kira to move her arms up and down.” She lifted her arms. “Like this.”

I repeated it to Rochelle, and relief slammed into me when she said, “It worked! Oh my god, it worked.”

But the feeling lasted for all of two seconds before I was barking into my phone. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Rochelle said. “She was fine. We were watching a movie, and something made her laugh. I told her it was good to see her happy like this, and then it just came out of nowhere.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose and tried to level out my breath. “I’m coming to get her.”

Rochelle was quiet for a beat before giving me a sad little, “Okay.”

I hung up and went straight for my front door, shrugging on my jacket and pushing my feet into shoes as Mia watched.

“Is she all right?” she asked, and I shook my head.

“I have to get her home.”

Gripping my keys, I looked up, and Mia was ready to go. Her bag was slung over her shoulder, her sandals already tied around her ankles.

Regret clawed its way up my windpipe.

“I’m sorry. I have to go.”

She put a hand on my arm. “Don’t be daft, you big grumpy dope. Of course you have to.”

I bent to kiss her, and hoped it wasn’t for the last time.

After seeing Mia safely back to her apartment, I felt wrong all the way to Rochelle’s place. She should’ve been with me.

But I tried to push the feeling down. I had to take care of my daughter.