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"Jamie?"
My name on her lips sounds distant, like it's a whisper from a far-off place, and not like she's standing right next to me. Is it just me or has the heat in the hallway suddenly gone off the chart? And why can't I breathe? Each inhale is like a stab to my chest.
"Jamie, what's wrong?"
The words are a logjam in my throat, but somehow, I manage to slip out, "C… can’t… breathe."
Like a child’s toy top that has run out of spin, the ground rushes upward to meet me.
I never fully lose consciousness, and I can't even contemplate the embarrassment of falling to the floor, because I don’t know what the fuck just happened.
She's darting around behind me, the sound of her footsteps quick. In a moment, she's crouching over me with a bottle of water in her hand. "Drink this."
I push her hand away. Why doesn't she understand I can't breathe?
Unscrewing the bottle of water, she lifts it to my lips. "You're having a panic attack, Jamie. You need to drink some water and you need to take a breath."
The walls are still spinning around me, and everything is blurry. Lara's face comes close to mine, her eyes glossy, wrinkles pressed into her forehead. "Look at me." Her hand presses against my cheek and her skin is soft and cold, her touch relaxing me. "Just breathe, Jamie."
I can do that. The tightness in my chest subsides and my lungs expand as I take the water and slowly sip it. It's ice cold and soothes my throat. By the time the bottle is empty, I've regained my focus.
As I curl my feet beneath me, Lara closes the door and then sits beside me and crosses her legs. "Are you okay?"
What a loaded question. It was her first question that triggered this… what am I sorry about?
What am Inotsorry about? The thing that has been haunting me my entire life bubbles to the surface, and although my heart rate has slowed, speaking about this out loud still makes my blood pressure rise.
But I suddenly want to say it. I need to. Maybe if I can express this, if I can say everything that is causing this pain, I will expose the darkness that lines my heart.
"My parents are dead."
Lara blinks. “I know. You told me. Six years ago, I think you said. Why are you telling me now?”
“I’m so messed up, Lara,” he answers. “For the past year, I’ve been thinking about going to be with them.”
“Be with them? I saw you had it on your calendar at work to go visit them. I figured you were planning to visit their grave. What do you mean,be with them?”
I raise my gaze to meet hers as a knot forms in my throat. I don’t say anything.
Her eyes widen, and she raises her brow as she sucks in a deep breath. I nod slowly. "It has been on my calendar for months, maybe even over a year, but I kept changing my mind. Maybe because I'm a coward… maybe because I… because things have been getting better. Maybe because… I think I fell in love with you. I don't know."
"Jamie… I don't know what to say. Are you still having those… thoughts?"
I shake my head. "Well, no. Not for a while."
She reaches out and squeezes my hand. "I didn't know you were struggling like that. I'm so sorry."
There's that word again. "I'm the one who is sorry. Not just for what I did to you, but for what I did to Chris."
"Chris?" She hesitates. “Chris, who?”
"You didn’t know him. He was on the football team. Well… not reallyonthe team. He was our equipment manager."
“Oh. The scrawny kid? The one everybody calledMonkey Boy?”
I nod, but theMonkey Boyreference is too much, and I glance away. "Yeah. I was different back then. It was before my parents died and I guess my ego was too big for my own good. Or too weak. All I cared about was what other people thought about me. I couldn’t recognize the truth."
"What truth?"
