AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"It's a panic attack, you asshole," I snarled as I rubbed Brandon's back. He didn't move away, which I took as a go-ahead to continue.
"Fuck...what should I do? Call an ambulance?" He glanced back toward the party, clearly wanting to do anything but make the phone call.
This time Brandon let me put both of my arms around him. Ray and Susan had already left the party long ago. Who would know how to help?
"Just get Kieran," I ordered. "Now."
Two minutes later, Kieran appeared on the balcony, took one look at Brandon and me, and whipped out her cell phone.
"Hey Push," she said a minute later. "It's happening, just like I said. Can you send in the prescription? I'll have Margie pick it up." She hung up and sent off a quick message, presumably to Brandon's assistant.
"Get a paper bag from the caterers," Kieran called to Cory, who immediately darted out, and returned within about thirty seconds, bag in hand.
"Brandon?" Kieran asked as she squatted eye to eye with her friend. "Take this. Breath into it. You remember how."
But it was like Brandon couldn't even hear her, full as he was of shakes and anger. He stared straight through her, with eyes so dark they almost looked black.
"Jesus," I whispered, even as I rubbed his shoulders. I looked at Kieran, terrified. "What do we do?"
"Sing to him," she said, nodding her head toward him. "It's the only thing that ever helped. When he was a kid, I used to find him freaking out, banging his head against the wall. I'd come in there, and I'd sing whatever stupid song I could think of. New Kids. Cher. Whatever. But it helps it stop faster than it would normally."
I pursed my lips, hesitant to treat Brandon like a small child, but at this point I was ready to try anything. So I leaned in and covered his rocking back with my body, wrapped my arms around his shoulders so I could tuck my chin close and sing into his ear.
I started quietly, searching for the words of "Thunder Road," one of Brandon's favorite songs, humming the piano intro here and there under my breath.
"Mary's dress waves," Kieran offered beside me, nodding in approval.
I continued to sing, recalling the words of a song that gave solace to many, even once for the two of us, dancing alone together in my kitchen. Using Springsteen's poetry, the way he described the everyday beauty of a woman dancing on a porch, songs on a radio, the connection between two people that exists beyond just lust, I gradually brought Brandon down from whatever internal ledge he was standing on. With every awkward hum, his shaking started to subside, and eventually, Brandon stilled in my arms, crouched but no longer rocking.
"Shhhh," I crooned as I pulled him closer. I fell back onto my seat, sitting against the wall, and at last, Brandon relaxed long enough to let me pull him closer. He took the paper bag in my hand, and slowly started to blow in and out of it.
I looked up at Cory, who was still standing by the doors, watching the entire scene with clear disgust. "He needs a glass of water, I think," I said.
"He needs a fuckin' therapist," Cory said, but nevertheless darted out to fetch the water.
"I..." Brandon managed to scrape out between shallow breaths, "don't...need...to be..."
"Fixed. Yeah, yeah, we've heard that line before," Kieran said sharply. "But it's bullshit, and you know it."
Brandon said nothing, just continued to breathe out of the paper bag. He still managed, however, to send a formidable glare at his best friend.
Kieran just crossed her arms and glared right back.
"You ready to talk like a big boy?" she asked.
"Shut up, Kieran."
"Look at what you're doing to yourself!" she snapped. "To Skylar, with this anxiety. You couldn't get away with breaking people's faces in high school––you think it's going to work when you're the public face of Boston? You're lucky you have a curtain to cover this shit show!"
Another withering glare. Kieran didn't even blink. Then she crouched back down next to her friend and put a hand on his shoulder. Brandon was able to sit up against the wall by himself, but still continued to breathe through the bag while his other hand grappled for mine.
"I don't know what has got you regressing like this," she said quietly, and when Brandon tried to lower the bag to respond, she held up a hand to stop him. "Skylar told me everything. No, no, you don't get to get mad at her. Who else was she supposed to talk to?"
Brandon flickered a quick blue look at me. I wrapped my arms around my middle, but I didn't look away.
"You can pretend with everyone else out there, my friend," Kieran said. "But you can't pretend with us."
Brandon took a deep breath from the bag, and then blew it out, the crackle of the paper filling the air. After a minute, he turned away from both of us.
Kieran sighed and stood up. She brushed the dust off her sleek black suit and looked out to the harbor.
"You're never going to make it through an entire mayoral campaign like this," she said frankly. When she looked back at Brandon, her eyes were steel. "Margie's on her way here with a valium prescription that Pushpa sent in. As soon as you can get yourself together, you and Skylar should leave. You have some things to figure out without an audience."
She left us on the balcony together, and we sat there quietly while the cool breeze from the harbor washed over us. There was a chill to it; summer was over.
Brandon didn't say anything the entire time, even after he had dropped the bag and began to take normal breaths again. He didn't say a word; didn't even look at me. But when I moved to follow Kieran, thinking he needed some time to himself, his hand snapped out and touched my elbow, wordlessly asking me to stay.
So I did. And for nearly twenty more minutes, we sat together in silence, waiting until Brandon was able to be the cool, charismatic figure everyone on the other side of the curtain had come there to see.
~
