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“No…you can’t.”
No one can help me. I pull the top off the needle, jab it into my fingertip. Anything to get me steady, get my head back straight. Doesn’t help, though.
I can’t breathe, and now I really think I’m gonna pass out. Why is this happening, I wonder dimly. I open my eyes and find her face twisted. Tears shine in her eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
It’s the only thing I’m good at saying. I try to swallow…but I can’t. Her face is fuzzing black around the edges. I hold out the syringe, or I try to, but my hand can’t do it. It falls to the floor. In the breath of time when she looks down at it, I manage to fill my lungs with air.
She picks it up, I think, and then her hands are on my shoulders. “Breathe.”
One of her hands goes to my throat. I think she’s trying to get me to inhale, but I’m so cold and tired. I think of Laurent’s arm around my neck from behind.
“People are stupid and naive. Do you think this is about love? I’ll show you. It’s about comfort. For the body. You’re in shock right now from the news of what happened. You won’t remember this discomfort. And next time, when I come to bring us both comfort, you’ll be more ready.”
I can feel his chest against my back. I can feel his arm. I feel it. I don’t like it. Something’s wrong with me. Finley is climbing on me. She’s wrapping herself around me. Her mouth covers mine. I can’t breathe. My ears ring. I hear her voice, the firm words. Her hands on my shoulders, squeezing.
“You’re okay. Listen to me, Declan—you are fine. Look at me.”
Why’s she saying that?
I look up at her, or try to, but her mouth is over mine again. Am I supposed to kiss her? She blows air into my mouth, and I feel like I’m floating. Did she shoot me up, and I missed it? I’m slowing down now.
“Just breathe.”
Again, her hot breath in my mouth. She’s blowing air into my lungs. That’s weird. Her arms are around me. She’s warm and soft. I love her.
“Here we go again.” Her hands around my mouth. Her hot air that I breathe into my nose. I don’t like this shaking. Finley’s hand is rubbing my arm.
She kisses the corner of my mouth, and then, again, she’s blowing into it.
I must be hallucinating. Am I dead? I’m really tired now.
I manage to hold onto her so she doesn’t get knocked over as I shift so I can lie down on my side. I feel my heart pounding, my cold skin, the colder floor. I’m really fucked up. But there’s Finley. She’s beside me.
“There now.” Tears are dripping down her face as she strokes my hair. “It’s all right.” Her mouth on my cheek—just beside my nose. Her lips kissing my eyes. I’m confused. I inhale deeply, and she cups her hands around my mouth. I manage to kiss her. Just a little kiss.
I’m sleepy. Maybe this is just a dream.
“You’re okay. Take your time…we can just lie here.”
I look up into her eyes. I love her. I can’t get my mouth to say it.
“I love you,” she murmurs back.
I laugh—inside my head, at least. She read my mind.
Finley holds me, and it’s me and her. It’s slow and dark, and all that bad stuff feels a little bit better.
“This is my worst day.” It’s barely a murmur.
She hugs me closer to her. “Close your eyes, Sailor. I’ll play with your hair… You’ll tell me later.”
My friend died. Because I was stupid and a coward, and I didn’t tell. I imagine saying it. I see his face. I always see his face, especially when I dream: it’s blue, with purple lips. I killed him. I kind of want to tell her that. So she can tell me it’s okay.
“What’s wrong with me?” My eyelids feel so heavy. “Did you give me something?” It’s a whisper.
“Carbon dioxide.” Her lips press against my cheek. “Just my breath. You were having an anxiety attack. But now you’re okay.”
