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Fuck. Why would she need him to remind her of something happening as soon as tomorrow morning? The more I think about it, the more it looks like thereissomething going on.
I walk back into the house, my mind whirling with the possibility that my mother will end up just like Nan did. I can’t do it. Anyone but her.
I can’t lose my mom, I tell myself. I tell the world. I tell anyone who will listen.
I walk into the bedroom Katy and I claimed when we first arrived and close the door. I make it to the bathroom before I collapse onto the ground. My chest heaves as I try to force air into my lungs. Fuck, I know what’s happening, but I can’t stop it. I haven’t had a panic attack since I was a kid. What the fuck? I grab at my hair as pure dread takes over my whole body.
My phone rings. I pull it out of my pocket with a shaky hand. I see Romeo’s name on the screen. I slide the green bar across to answer the call, though I can’t find the words to speak.
“Luc? You in your room?” he asks me.
“B… bathroom,” I get out.
“On my way. Fucking breathe, Luc,” he says. I hear his heavy footsteps coming down the hall. He’s running. Moments later, the bathroom door swings open. “Fuck,” Romeo curses before shutting the door and locking it.
We never told anyone about these little episodes when we were kids. They started when we were fourteen. I haven’t had one since we were eighteen. For four years, Romeo kept this secret. He’d always know when I was having an attack, and he’d always find me and manage to calm me down.
“Luc, breathe with me. It’s okay,” he says. “I’m right here.” Romeo sits in front of me on the bathroom floor. His hands grip each side of my face, forcing my eyes to meet his. “It’s going to be okay. I’ve got you.”
“I can’t…” I grit out before heaving in a lungful of air.
“You can,” Romeo says. “Breathe in. Breathe out.”
I try to follow his instructions. I attempt to breathe in and out when he tells me to. I’m not sure how long we sit like this, but eventually, my breathing returns to normal.
Romeo doesn’t let go of me, though. His hand wraps around the back of my neck, and his forehead rests on mine. “We’re good. We’re going to be okay,” he says.
“Sorry,” I whisper. I’m too old for this shit. I shouldn’t be his problem anymore. He has a wife, a family, a career to worry about.
“Don’t be.” He straightens up. “Want to talk about it?” he asks me.
“It’s Ma. I invited her to breakfast tomorrow, and as I was walking away, I heard her ask Pops to not let her forget about it. I don’t know. I just… lost it,” I say.
“Shit.” He looks at me. “It’s been a long time since this has happened to us,” he says.
The thing about Romeo is… it’s alwaysus. It’s never been something that happens tome. He’s always saidus.Wehave panic attacks.Wewill get through it together.Weare going to be okay.
“Yeah, it has,” I admit.
“I’m going to tell Livvy we are switching rooms, moving down to this side of the house,” he says.
“You don’t need to do that,” I tell him.
“I want to. Do you know how far I had to run just now? I’m moving rooms. Besides, if I don’t, I might strangle Dante before the month’s out. That kid is moping around like we’ve severed one of his limbs.”
“When we were his age, we were far from love sick.”
“Right? He’s sixteen. He should be fucking around, not stuck on one girl,” Romeo says.
“Maybe don’t let your wife hear you say that.” I laugh.
“I don’t have a death wish,” Romeo tells me. “Come on, let’s get a drink.” He pushes to his feet and holds out a hand for me.
This is how we do this. We pretend that the whole ordeal didn’t happen, until it happens again. I really fucking hope this was a once-off. I mean, how the hell do I hide this shit from my wife?
“You gonna talk to Katy about it?” Romeo asks, reading my fucking mind.
“No,” I tell him.
