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Suddenly, everything I ever wanted to do just feels completely insignificant and meaningless because what’s the point if I don’t have my dad to share it with? If he can’t be proud and say, “That’s my girl.”
I will never see his smile again.
I will never feel his arms around me again.
I will never meet someone who understands all of my obscure movie references again.
Who am I supposed to call when I can’t remember who sang a song, or what that movie was that we watched years ago that had that one guy in it we both thought was terrible?
I can’t breathe.
I can’t feel my heart beating.
Subconsciously, I know I am having a panic attack—I’ve had them before, and I know what one feels like, but I do not have my dad beside me to remind me to breathe—to just take a deep breath and put my hand to my heart to feel the steady rhythm.
To remind myself I’m alive.
“Lucy? Lucy!”
Allie is beside me, but I barely notice her as I gasp for air.
I need air.
She wraps her arms around me and cries.
“Breathe, Luce. You have to breathe,” she demands.
But I can’t.
My dad is dead.
I can’t doanything.
“Hey,” a steady, calm voice comes from my right. “Lucy.”
There’s a pair of not-quite-brown-but-not-quite-hazel eyes in front me.
Wyatt.
Wyatt is crouching down in front of me, his hands are on my shoulders.
“I need you to take some deep breaths with me, alright, Lucy? Watch me. Breathe in, now breathe out.” I keep my focus on his eyes, trying to do as he says.
“Good. We’re going to do that again, okay? Breathe in…and now breathe out. You’re doing great.” He smiles reassuringly as I breathe in and out, my eyes focusing on his.
“Let’s do it again, breathe in…breathe out. There you go. Breathe in…breathe out.”
We do that until Allie quietly says, “Ten.”
Wyatt looks at me intently and I nod, letting him know I am okay and can breathe on my own now. He stands up and offers me his hand, which I happily take.
“Thank you,” I say.
He shrugs and smiles a little. “Panic attacks are a rite of passage in the dead parent’s club.”
Allie gasps but I just stare at him for a half a second before I laugh. Like, really laugh, with my head tilted back and the good kind of tears prick at my eyes this time. He grins at me, and Allie just shakes her head.
“It’ll suck less one day, Lucy,” he says, “but until then, it’s gonna hurt all the time. Sometimes the hurt is more of an ache, and it’s bearable. Sometimes it’s like you just took a hammer to your chest. You’re going to be okay; it’s just going to…”
