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His dimples appeared, and his eyes sparkled.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“You want me to what?” Lucie shouted at a wincing Chris.
Branches swayed around them as birds squawked and children, hidden amongst the trees, shouted instructions to each other. But, apart from the sounds, the only hint that she and Chris weren’t alone were the little orange helmets visible between green leaves as people of all ages tackled the high ropes course that made up one of the forest’s activities. From below the trees, parents encouraged their children, and groups of friends shouted at each other while laughing and calling out their support.
Lucie and Chris had spent the last hour on these high ropes around the trees. She’d crossed rickety bridges and swung on ropes as her legs trembled and her hands shook. Then, when they’d walked across a taut rope with a second rope at hand height to steady them, she’d nearly shouted at him to get her down. Chris was there for every step. He’d held out his hand when she’d completed the series of planks that threatened to upend her and cheered her when she mastered the climbing wall. His smile and words of reassurance aided her in tackling each terrifying and new part of the course, but none of it compared to the final challenge. A 270-metre zip wire across the lake loomed in front of her. Her belly dropped, and tears brimmed in her eyes.
“I want you to go on the zip wire,” Chris said, his voice getting quieter each time he spoke. “When I say I want you to, it’s a suggestion. You should only do it if you’re happy to.”
“Happy?” It came out as an embarrassing screech.
“Sorry, that was the wrong word,” he replied, blanching. He said each word softer than the last, as if he was trying to calm an angry tiger. “If you want to, not for any other reason.”
Lucie’s heartbeat was frantic. It was a choice. Chris wouldn’t force her to do anything she wasn’t comfortable with. She could climb down the ladder, and they’d never speak about it again. It was similar to when she had something she had to say, but fear stopped the words from coming out. When she didn’t say what was in her heart, the memory of giving up and succumbing to anxiety seared her soul forever. She could do the zip wire, but the concept petrified her. The instructors were well trained, and the equipment was safe. Was it the heights, being out of control, or embarrassing herself that terrified her more? Fear stabbed at her confidence, puncturing it. Fear told her she was a chicken and that Chris would laugh at her or reject her if she didn’t go through with it.
He was wincing.
Nearby, a couple of children that couldn’t be more than ten got strapped up and then took on the threat of the zip wire with screams of laughter. They made it look easy. But it wasn’t for Lucie. A couple a little older than them had already politely asked if they could slip in front. The instructor, who was preparing people to go, rolled her eyes. Lucie glanced again. It wasn’t a roll of her eyes but an encouraging smile. She’d read that you wrongly perceived in others the adverse reaction you expected them to have when you had low self-esteem.
Why am I like this? I should believe in myself.
Why did the path of the zip wire have to be so high? The end, over the water and into the trees, was far away.
Lucie’s head swam, and she closed her eyes to stop it, but that made it worse. It was like water was circling in her head, throwing it off balance. She attempted a deep breath, but it turned into an out of control wheeze. Was she going to have another anxiety attack? She couldn’t get away from Chris now. By the time she made it to the bottom of the steps, it would be too late. She’d be hyperventilating. And what if she faintedin front of brave children and strangers? And then what would Chris think of her? Again, panic hit her chest, and she imagined having a heart attack on the ropes. Lucie opened her eyes to find the steps and saw the two people in front of them in the queue, getting strapped up in preparation for the zip wire. Her body shook, and she closed her eyes quickly again. Her eyelashes soaked up the tears that brimmed her eyes, although one got away and slowly fell down her cheek and rested on her upper lip.
“Talk to me, Lucie,” Chris begged, his voice quiet beneath the fog of anxiety.
She opened her eyes and found his forehead marred with lines and his mouth small. Somehow, with her eyes open and staring at him, a little tightness eased. Leaves brushed her face as Chris took her hands and walked her, with tiny steps, away from the others to a quieter part of the large wooden platform.
“Breathe with me, Lucie.” He ran his thumb around her wrist. It seemed to trick her pulse point into slowing a little. “You’re going to be okay. Keep breathing. You’re safe here with me. I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not going to leave you. We won’t do this bit. Once you’re ready, we can climb down the ladder and sit quietly. But don’t worry about that now.”
She shook her head aggressively. Strands of her hair slipped from beneath her safety helmet.
“No?” he asked, his brow furrowed. “Okay. When you’re ready, tell me what you want to do. I’m happy to do whatever it is you want to do next. I do have a question though. My mum used to have panic attacks, and they were a bit like this. Is that what you’re going through right now? Just nod. You don’t need to speak if you can’t.”
“It’s an anxiety attack,” she said quickly between short breaths. “A bit different, but similar.”
Chris nodded slowly. “Okay. Remember what I said to you about being the exception?”
Lucie nodded, her entire focus on Chris.
“I got it from Mum. She would say it to me when I struggled. It didn’t always mean standing out from the crowd. Sometimes, when she said it, she meant taking care of herself and doing the boring routine stuff to stay healthy was being an exception. Many people don’t listen to their bodies or push themselves until they break. Sometimes being the exception means being willing to take a step back and taking time to be self-aware.”
He was speaking slowly with long pauses. Lucie was sure he was doing it for her benefit, but it was difficult to hear him against the rushing in her ears. Sickness threatened to rise from the pit of her stomach.
As if sensing a further escalation in her anxiety, he drew her attention again. “Lucie, look at me.” His green eyes were wide, and a chink appeared in her panic. Briefly, she remembered staring into his beautiful green eyes when they were talking on the beach. “Can you repeat ‘Be the exception’ with me?”
She nodded again.
“Be the exception. Be the exception. Be the exception,” Chris whispered as he stared into her eyes. Lucie joined in, and they said the words quietly together. He continued to run his thumb across her wrist as he held her hands. She focused on the words and allowed them to wash over her.
“What else can I do to support you?” he asked so gently it hurt her heart.
“This is good,” she replied breathlessly, focusing on how his mouth moved when he spoke. Her heartbeat slowed, and the tightness eased.
“There’s something else my mum taught me that we did when she had attacks. But tell me to shut up or shake your head if it’s not helping,” he said tentatively. He raised one eyebrow, and his mouth was tight as if he was straining to keep everything under control. “Tell me five things you see.”
