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A tear falls. Then another, until my eyes are like freaking waterfalls. Olivia tightens her hold on me, a reminder that she’s here. Her silence is my comfort until the crying stops.
“Talk to me,” she says softly.
My head shakes. “I can’t. I don’t.” I squeeze my eyes closed, hating how my voice is raspy.
“You can and you do. We did this morning, remember?”
This is different. I’m not sure how exactly, but it is. I start vomiting words, forcefully chucking them up without much of a choice.
“My dad wanted me to be in the NFL, he believed I had the talent. He died, so I really wanted to do that for him and for me. I loved football. Then after they died, I needed it to survive, so that for a few hours, I could pretend they were in the stands cheering me on. So that on days when all I wanted to do was hide under my blankets in bed, I could forget that I had to be strong. I wanted to forget they died. I wanted to forget that as I grew older, it was harder to stay happy.
“I wanted to forget how on some days, for no apparent reason, I was so torn up. I wanted to forget it was a struggle to not feel as if I was falling apart. I wanted to forget I’m why my siblings feel as if they can’t talk about them. I wanted to forget that I’m not strong like he wanted me to be for them. I wanted to forget that I could and would spiral over something I shouldn’t.
“Football let me forget, Olivia. It gave me a purpose and a reason to fight through it. Now, it’s gone and I’m lost. I’m so fucking lost without it and I can’t handle it. I don’t know how, Olivia. I don’t know if I can. And it just hurts so bad. I want it back. I want it back more than anything else in the world. There wasn’t a backup plan. There wasn’t even a thought of the possibility. In a second, I lost the one thing keeping me together, the one thing I loved as much as my siblings.
“And I can’t breathe enough to know what to do without it. I can’t focus. I can’t think. I can’t get out of bed. I can’t talk. I can’t get a decent sleep. I can’t breathe, Olivia. I can’t breathe and I can’t forget.”
My breathing hitches, coming faster as the panic sets in. Everything I needed that helped me live is gone. There’s no way to get it back. There’s no replacement. My breaths are short and labored.
“Corey, calm down,” Olivia tells me in a soothing voice. I’m gasping for air when she forces me to look at her, cupping her hands on my cheeks. “Corey,” she says sternly. “Breathe.”
I shake my head. I can’t.
“You’re hyperventilating. Breathe with me.”
She inhales for five seconds and then exhales. I focus on her chest pressing into mine and the steady stream of air hitting my face as it leaves her mouth. Slowly, I regain control. Her fingers swipe over my cheeks and I realize I was crying again. Rolling back to my side, Olivia does the same and watches me. It’s too dark to read her expression and my vision is too blurry anyway.
Olivia moves closer to rest her face against my chest, intertwines her legs with mine, throws an arm around my waist, and squeezes once. I hold her to me, waiting for her to speak. She has to say something. I need her to say something. Anything.
Finally, she does. “You can find your way back, Corey. You’ll learn better methods and you’ll get through this. I’ll help and make sure of it.”
I don’t know why, but I believe her. When my eyes close, I’m able to fall asleep within minutes.
A COUPLE OF days pass without any more crying sessions. Olivia has been keeping a close watch on me thanks to that night, the new medication, and every other reason she can think of. And maybe I got a little ahead of myself, but I quit my job at the club. No two-weeks notice, no I’m sorry, just I quit. Honestly, it felt good. Olivia shook her head and told me I could have been nicer and gave them notice. I rolled my eyes at her.
I haven’t talked to her much today, so I cross the hall to her apartment. Before I knock, I lift the corner of the doormat. No spare key. Hm. Where does the genius keep hers, then? I knock and frown, my muscles automatically tensing when Ben answers the door. What’s his excuse for opening it this time?
“Hey,” he smiles, because that’s what people do when they answer doors.
I don’t reciprocate. “Where’s Olivia?”
“In her room taking a phone call. Who are you again?” Like he deserves to know who I am.
Bumping into his shoulder, I walk into her apartment to wait for her. The bar in the kitchen has papers and textbooks all over it.
“Man, I don’t know who you are or if you should be in here,” he starts, as if I’m a crazy guy here to harm Olivia.
I turn to face him, crossing my arms over my chest. “I’m her neighbor. I’ve been here plenty of times.” Am I pissed because he’s sort of concerned for her or appreciative that he doesn’t want just anyone waltzing into her apartment? Why is she even tutoring him here? She doesn’t tutor anyone else here. Only him. Reluctantly, I hold out my hand. Where the hell is Olivia? I don’t want to socialize. “Corey,” I say anyway.
“Ben.” He seems skeptical of me still.
“Corey?” Thank God, because I had no clue what else I was supposed to say to him. She walks over to us and glances between us before settling on me. “What are you doing over here?”
“I came to see you.” Why else would I leave my apartment?
“Obviously,” she laughs. “Ben, this is Corey. Corey, Ben,” she introduces.
“We covered that already, Liv,” Ben tells her.
