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CHASE
The last time Willow had a panic attack was the day we told her that Emily’s cancer was back. We were calm and prepared, knowing what the outcome of the conversation would be. But coming home today, I wasn’t prepared to see Willow gasping for breath and Addison across from her, lost in her own battle.
The day had started out with a mix of emotions—happiness at Willow starting a new chapter, and sadness knowing this was the last one Emily would be experiencing with us.
Still, we hadn’t treated this year any differently than the others. My parents brought her presents—a tradition they started back in kindergarten—and we all enjoyed a big breakfast before Emily and I dropped Willow off at school.
Even as I’d pulled into the parking lot, the three of us had just sat there, no one wanting to make the next move and break the spell of the morning.
We were fine.
We were happy.
We were a family.
The only noise on the way home was the sound of Emily’s sobs.
Getting to spend some time with Addison before going into work had helped lighten my mood a bit, but by lunch, the guilt had crept in. How dare I feel excited about a date night with Addison, about getting to see her at the end of the day, while Emily was crushed at losing a normalcy that was no longer hers to share in.
From then on, dread and sadness volleyed back and forth in my mind. I could barely focus, my thoughts on the girls so much that my dad had to remind me a few times that he needed my completed proposal for a new contract.
When it was time to head home, I had to use the cruise control to keep myself from speeding. I kept hoping I’d walk in to see their smiling faces, like I had only imagined the pain of the morning, but even as I drove, the sour feeling in my gut told me I was fucked.
When I walked in to see Willow falling apart, the last ounce of hope I had left died inside me. I couldn’t even think; I just grabbed her and ran up to Emily’s bedroom, hoping she’d be able to calm Willow down so I could go back to check on Addison.
But Emily is so out of it from her pain medication cocktail that I have to put my parental responsibility first in the moment, even though it fucking kills me to know Addison is just below us, likely still crying on her own.
I try grounding techniques and breathing exercises, but Willow is spiraling badly. Emily digs out a dose of Diazepam for her, and as soon as Willow has calmed, I rush back downstairs to find Addison, but she’s already retreated into her room.
Now, I’m pacing the upstairs hallway, waiting for the sound of the water pipes to turn off and signal that she’s out of the shower.
When they finally do, I dip into my bedroom and quietly shut the door. I don’t need her to catch me being a damn creeper in the hallway.
I give her some time to get dressed, and then I’m knocking on her door.I check my watch. It hasn’t been more than thirty minutes since I made it home, but that’s still thirty minutes that Addison was alone, dealing with whatever the hell had happened downstairs.
She finally opens the door, her face splotchy and red, eyes puffy from crying. I don’t even bother to stop myself from reaching out to her. I place my hands on either side of her head and run my thumbs down her warm cheeks.
“Are you okay?” I ask quietly.
She shakes her head in response, her eyes filling with tears.
I bring her closer to my chest and wrap my arms around her shoulders.Emily’s bedroom door is still slightly ajar down the hall, so I bend just enough to lock my arm around Addison’s waist, lift her, and shuffle deeper into the room. She pulls back slightly, tears still rolling down her cheeks. I kiss them both gently, kicking my foot back and connecting it with the door to shut it behind us.
Her shoulders are no longer quaking, but I’m afraid that if I repeat my previous question, the sobs will start back up, so I just hold her and lazily run my hand down the curve of her spine.
Too soon, she sighs and pulls back.
“I’m sorry,” she says, eyes pained. “She asked about my mom, and I didn’t know what to do. Nothing was calming her down.”
“I should have told you about her panic attacks. I’ve been so caught up in everything going on, but it’s something you should have known before you moved in. I also should have told you how to handle them when they happen.”
“So that wasn’t the first time?”
I shake my head, and she looks stricken. I kiss the wrinkle between her eyebrows, mostly because it gives me an excuse to have my lips on her again, then I grab her hand and walk her over to the bed. We sit side by side against the headboard, only our thighs touching, but just that much contact is enough.
“When Em was first diagnosed, we kept going back and forth on what to tell her. In the end, we thought honesty was best. I don’t know. I’ve kind of wondered over the years if it really was. Maybe we should have eased into it a little better. Just told her she was sick and working on getting better. Willow’s nightmares started a few months in, and she began crawling into bed with Emily in the middle of the night. One day she was playing with her mom’s hair, and it just... fell out in her hands.”
I stop talking, realizing my hands are suspended in the air, as if the blonde strands are resting in them now. When I put them back down, Addison grabs one tightly, looking just as tormented as I feel.
