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I reach over to give her big shaggy head a scratch.
“You’re gaining weight. We’re going to have to cut down on the kitty treats.” She gives me a disgruntled meow in reply.
We’ve been having this conversation for nearly four years now. Sometimes it’s just nice to have someone to talk to. Someone who listens and won’t judge. My pets, my sad little lopsided cactus, the woman selling face cream on a two AM infomercial.
The stranger with the midnight eyes. The one I couldn’t keep out of prison.
It’s been two long years, but I still lay awake at night and replay that night in my head on a loop. It was the Friday before my twenty-second birthday. Ignoring every one of my requests for a quiet dinner, my friends dragged me to a row of clubs and bars downtown.
The crowd and the heat and the liquor were too much for me. I had just stepped out of the busy nightclub for a breath of fresh air when the man appeared out of nowhere. Enormous, aggressive, and reeking of cheap alcohol, he refused to take no for an answer. Even now, bile rises in my throat when I remember the tight grip on my arm as the man began dragging me away.
My friends were nowhere to be found. The scattering of people on the street was too busy, wasted, or apathetic to notice it happening.
Nobody saw me, nobody cared.
Nobody except Austin.
He was just passing by, walking his dog, but he saw what was happening. He saw me. The rest of that night comes back in vivid flashes when I least expect or want it to.
Austin's secure grip on my wrist as he put himself between the drunk and me. The glint of moonlight on metal when my attacker pulled a knife out. The meaty sound of Austin's fist hitting the man's chin. Curses and sweat and the crunch of flesh meeting bone. The struggle didn’t last long. One more punch from Austin and my assailant landed like a sack of potatoes on the asphalt.
And directly onto his own knife.
Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in my own sweat and thinking it was me. Or that I'm still there, lying in a spreading pool of dark blood.
Nobody believed me. The police decided that Austin stabbed that man as soon as they arrived on the scene. Nothing I said or did would convince them otherwise. There were other people there, but nobody admitted to what they saw.
No matter how loudly I shouted that Austin had stepped in to save me, nobody heard me. All anyone saw was the size of him. Austin is imposing; tall and solid, with a crisscrossing of tattoos across his arms and chest. But all it took was one look into his soulful brown eyes to see the spark of something warm and authentic.
None of it mattered. People were afraid, uninterested, or something in between. I was ignored, set aside, and dismissed once again.
Story of my life.
But Austin couldn’t have stabbed that drunk asshole. Because he wasn’t looking at him when it happened.
His eyes were locked on mine.
“Oh, barnacles.” I hop up, nearly spilling my coffee in the process. “I’m going to be late.”
Familiar anxiety ticks its way up my chest, and I force myself to stop and take a deep breath. That's become a part of my routine these days, too. Leaving the comfort of my house for eight hours a day is hard enough as it is. Having my detailed schedule thrown off even a little is enough to crumble the protective walls I've worked so hard to erect.
As expensive as rent and cat food has gotten, I can’t afford to have a panic attack right now. Unfortunately, my body hasn’t gotten that memo. A spike of adrenaline floods my chest, and my stomach lurches queasily in response.
My mind races to remember every breathing technique and relaxation exercise that Rhett, the therapist, taught me.
“Find something red.” I talk myself through the rainbow grounding like Rhett said to. “There’s an apple in the bowl on the counter.”
At first, it felt silly to talk out loud to myself. Even more foolish to do an exercise that seems like it was made for the kindergarteners I teach instead of a grown woman. But it actually works. At the very least, it untangles my mind enough to thaw me and get me moving again.
"Something orange." I breathe deeply, moving towards the front door with my purse. "There we go."
Snickers dashes by, and I decide that her mottled coat counts. I get my lunch together, calming my breathing as I go. Focusing and identifying real things helps me sift through the noise of my roaring brain whenever I get too overwhelmed.
“Blue.” I meet my reflection in the mirror by the door, noting the pale blue dress I'm wearing.
The scattered daisy print on it is yellow. My heart rate is steadier now. Blowing out a long breath, I promise myself an afternoon off to hide under the blankets if I just get through today.
“Green.” My voice is steadier to my own ears as I scan the calendar pinned to the wall. “You’re doing great.”
