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Leighton watched Axl disappear into the family room where the Moores had a bar. She gave a weak smile to everyone around the table and shrugged. Her palms felt damp and she ran them down the front of her floral dress.
It was making her uncomfortable that everyone seemed to be getting along. While the thought of animosity had been scary, it wouldn’t have felt so intimate then. This felt far too close to real to be anything other than horrifying.
Axl seemed to be having the same response since he was headed straight for the booze. She’d only known him six days but he didn’t seem to be much of a drinker. He’d said so himself and his lack of home liquor led her to believe that was true. His parents had a full bar, though, and she heard bottles clinking around as if he were searching for something.
“I think this is all a little overwhelming,” she said weakly.
“Well, that’s what happens when you rush these things,” Hillary said. It was evident she thought they both deserved some stress for being so impulsive.
“Oh, pooh,” her own mother said. “Marriage is always going to be overwhelming. Sometimes you just have to dive in.”
“You know what they say. The secret to a successful marriage is still a secret,” her father said.
“Dad!” Leighton almost laughed. “That’s not advice. That’s like a George Burns punch line.”
Axl came back to the table with something that looked like bourbon. Poured very high in the glass.
Her father shrugged. “Just respect your marriage, you two, and everything will be fine.”
That was about as unsettling as Winnie’s words that Leighton was stealing her day.
They weren’t respecting anything.
She swallowed hard. Marriage wasn’t a TV show. Marriage wasn’t something to be flippant about. Marriage was Soon-ja leaving her family and her home behind because of love. Marriage was her own father willing to accept digs about their age difference because he loved his wife. Marriage was Axl’s mother and father raising three kids and still enjoying each other’s company after a crazy night at a Guns N’ Roses concert.
She wanted that. All of that. She wanted a man to look at her for years and years with love still shining in his eyes. She wanted a man who would defend her when her mother took a dig at her weight and who made her feel beautiful, just the way she was.
And she wanted it with Axl.
It was happening. She could feel it. Her throat was closing up and her heart started to race.
No one seemed to notice so she concentrated on breathing through her nose. God, she hated this. It made her feel so weak to not be able to control her anxiety. Everyone always just thought she was overreacting or that she could control it. But it was physical, an actual wave of predictable symptoms that crashed over her until she felt like she was having a heart attack or that she couldn’t breathe. Even when she knew intellectually she wasn’t going to die, it really, in those moments, felt like it.
But then there was Axl, his hand on her leg, squeezing. His voice murmuring in her ear, “It’s okay. You’re okay.” His hand, lifting his glass to her lips and encouraging her to take a sip.
Her vision had blurred but with his help and repeated soft words, he returned her to clarity. She could hear her mother saying, “Oh, shit, she’s doing it again, Dieter. Do something.”
“What’s going on?” Hillary asked.
Leighton was mortified. She was too embarrassed to look at Axl’s parents so she focused on him. He cupped her cheeks, his thumbs massaging over her skin. “That’s good. You’re fine.”
She didn’t say anything. She could only imagine what people living in Northern Minnesota would think of her anxiety. Axl’s parents seemed very salt-of-the-earth and when she shot a quick glance over at them, they looked horrified.
“Are you having a seizure?” Hillary asked.
“Panic attack,” her own mother said. “She gets those a lot.”
“Oh, dear. That’s unfortunate.”
Which to Leighton’s ears might as well have been “so the bitch is broken.” She had no clue what Hillary or Rob were actually thinking but it felt like something to be ashamed of because she had always despised her anxiety.
“It doesn’t happen a lot anymore,” she said, feeling defensive.
And as grateful as she was for Axl’s support, she saw in his eyes that he didn’t agree with her assessment that it didn’t happen frequently. He was right. She’d done this three times since she’d met him.
“It doesn’t matter if it does or it doesn’t. What matters is that you’re okay.” He kissed her forehead and dropped his arms back down.
