by J. Sterling
I couldn’t believe that I was going to die in a fucking parking lot. I opened my mouth wider, trying to suck in more air, to take deeper breaths, but my chest refused. It felt like it was caving in on top of me each time I tried. I was definitely dying.
Pressing the speed dial button for Kristy, I rocked in my seat as the sound of ringing filled my ears.
“What’s up, hooker?” she said cheerfully.
“Something’s wrong,” I choked out through my tears. “I think I’m dying.”
“What? You’re not dying. What’s wrong? Are you okay? Cammie, what happened?”
Kristy’s concern should have been soothing, but it did nothing to ease my current state of mind. I swiped at my wet cheeks, trying not to sob as I spoke.
“Dalton didn’t show up. We had a date and he never showed. But I think I’m having a heart attack.”
“Well, I’m sure he just got tied up at work or something,” she said, attempting to calm me down, but it only made things worse. “Did you try to call him?”
I wanted to reach through the airwaves and strangle her. “Of course I tried to call him. It went straight to voice mail. Did you hear me about the heart attack?”
“Well, that means his phone is off. Maybe he’s still at work?” she suggested. “Or sleeping?”
Why wasn’t she listening to me? Why wasn’t she helping me?
“Kristy!” I cried and couldn’t stop the tears. “I’m completely freaking out right now. Can you come get me? Please? Something is wrong with me and I can’t drive.”
“I’ll be right there. Graziano’s, right?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
Once I’d ended the call, I buried my head in my hands and sobbed. Thoughts of worst-case scenarios filled my mind, holding me in their grip. If something had happened to Dalton, I’d never know. No one would call me, would they? Dalton could be hurt or worse, and I’d never fucking hear about it because no one knew that I even existed. These nightmarish thoughts niggled in the back of my mind, and I tried my best to toss them away, ignore them, give them no life, but they refused to leave. They took root in my brain and grew to epic proportions.
Something had happened to Dalton, something bad; I knew it. And there was nothing I could do about it.
“I’m here, I’m here.” Kristy’s voice rang out from the passenger seat as she entered it through the unlocked door.
I looked over at her, wondering if I looked as insane as I felt. “You have to take me to the hospital. Please. Something is definitely wrong with me.”
A concerned expression crossed her face as she reached out and touched my shoulder. “I think you’re having a panic attack. Just breathe.”
“I can’t fucking breathe!” I screamed out at her. She wasn’t listening, and I was going to die because she wouldn’t listen. “Take me to a hospital or call 911. Your choice.”
“Okay, let’s go. But we’re taking my car,” she said firmly, her tone allowing me no room to argue.
She jumped out and came over to the driver’s side to help me, then hustled me over to her car. Once she had me settled, she drove like a bat out of hell, and I probably should have been relieved, but her new sense of urgency only fueled my panic.
“I can’t breathe,” I squeaked out, pressing a trembling hand to my chest. “Every time I try to breathe, it feels like no air will come in. You can’t live without air, Kristy.”
“I know. I know,” she said in a soothing voice. “It’s going to be okay. We’re almost there.” She threw me a quick glance, sympathy filling her eyes as she navigated between me and the road.
Once at the hospital, I overheard Kristy yelling at someone at the check-in counter. The woman peered around Kristy’s shoulder and glanced at me before nodding her head, probably agreeing with my assessment about my impending death.
When a wheelchair was brought over, Kristy had to help me into it since my legs were shaking so much I was pretty unsteady. She wheeled me down the hall as we followed a nurse dressed in scrubs. Why wasn’t she going faster?
I was placed in a hospital gown and asked way too many questions. What seemed like a million pieces of equipment were quickly attached to my body, monitoring my vitals and doing who knows what else. The nurse set me up with an IV, and came back a few minutes later with a syringe that she injected into it, explaining to me that it contained a mild sedative.
My heart instantly started to slow to a normal pace and began beating less violently. The bands that had constricted my chest eased their grip, and I was soon able to breathe easier.
“Feel better?” the nurse asked.
“That’s definitely helping. Thank you.” I let out a sigh of relief and wiped at my cheeks, sure my mascara had probably run at some point during this debacle.
“Don’t ever do that to me again,” Kristy said sternly from her perch in the only visitor’s chair.
“You? I have no idea what the hell that was. That was one of the most terrifying things I’ve ever experienced. I felt completely out of control, like I was losing my mind,” I admitted, still wondering what the heck had happened to me.
The doctor walked in, a beautiful dark-skinned woman not much older than me, glancing down at my chart in her hands before looking up and greeting me with a smile. “Well, Miss Carmichael, that was one heck of a panic attack you were having.”
I glanced over at Kristy, half expecting to see an I told you so look on her face, but instead found nothing but concern.
“I’m Dr. Patel,” she said by way of introduction. “Have you ever had a panic attack before?”
I shook my head. “No. Never. Are you sure that’s what it was?”
Dr. Patel nodded, tucking my chart under her arm and then clasping her hands in front of her. “Yes. You display all the standard symptoms. Usually they’re triggered by something. Did anything happen that might have upset you before it started?”
Dalton not showing up for our date and my not being able to get a hold of him was one hell of an emotional trigger.
“Yeah,” I said. “Something definitely happened.” And so I told her about what had happened tonight, as well as what had happened the last time someone I loved hadn’t shown up . . .
• • •
Hopping out of the shower after winning our latest softball game, I had been thoroughly stressed about my math test the following day. I’d changed into my pajamas and met my mom in the kitchen, where she was making dinner as we waited for my dad to get home. I tossed my math book on the table and hopped onto one of the bar stools.
“Where’s Dad?” I asked, wondering why he wasn’t home yet. Dad was rarely late getting home for dinner.
“Running late, I guess,” Mom said over her shoulder as she tended to something she had going in the frying pan that smelled delicious.
Someone knocked on the door. The knock was so gentle that at first I thought I was hearing things.
“Was that the door?” My mom turned slightly to look at me.
“I wasn’t sure. I’ll go check.” I jumped down and rushed to the front door.
Swinging it open, I was met by the ashen faces of two police officers I didn’t recognize. One looked really young, and the other was about the same age as my dad. They removed their caps as they looked at me.
“Can I help you?” I assumed they were looking for my dad, although his coworkers didn’t usually stop by our house.
“Hi, Cammie. Is your mom at home?”
Curious, I squinted at them, wondering how in the world they knew my name. “I’ll go get her,” I said, then closed the door behind me and called out, “Mom, there’s two cops at the door. I figured they were looking for Dad, but they asked for you.”
I rounded the corner into the kitchen as the metal spatula Mom had been holding dropped to the floor. It clanged loudly on the tile, rattling for a moment as it rocked back and forth before finally coming to a stop. It’s a sound I’ll never forget.
Still confused, I asked Mom if she
was okay.
“Turn off the oven and the stove, please, Cammie.” She wiped her hands on a towel, an expression on her face I’d never seen before. “I’ll be right back.” Her voice cracked, and she was the palest I’d ever seen her as she headed toward the front door.
Mom’s odd reaction made my stomach twist with worry; something was definitely wrong. I turned everything off as she’d asked and rushed to the door just in time to see her fall to the floor in a heap. Her legs folded, and she simply collapsed on top of herself.
“We’re so sorry, ma’am.”
I looked up at the men as I dropped to the floor next to my mom, cradling her in my arms. “What happened? What’s going on?” My gaze traveled between my mom’s face as she cried hysterically, and their stoic ones. “Someone tell me what the hell is going on!” I shrieked.
“Cammie, your father was shot and killed during a robbery,” the older officer said slowly. He looked extremely uncomfortable, as if he’d rather be anywhere than here at this moment. Sadness etched his features as he twisted his cap in his hands, and he averted his eyes as he added, “He was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Wrong place at the wrong time?” I repeated, thinking how weird that wording was. Dad was a cop, of course he’d be at a robbery. “I don’t understand. What happened?”
My body went numb. I completely understood in this moment why my mom had crumpled to the floor as if her bones could no longer support her. Mine felt as if they’d cracked beneath the weight of his words.
The younger officer glanced at his partner, and when the man gave him a slight nod, he cleared his throat and tried to explain. “As far as we can tell, he was on his way home for the day. He stopped at a mini-mart in the area to pick up a bottle of wine. While he was in the back of the store, a man we’ve since learned is a local gang member stormed in with a gun and tried to rob the place.”
The officer paused for a moment and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “This is where the details get sketchy, but it looks as though the robber tried to take a young girl hostage, and your dad tried to stop him. The scumbag shot your dad three times in the chest.”
My mind imagined the scene as he explained it, but my brain got hung up on specific details, specific words. It was as though I couldn’t possibly be expected to process all of this information without having my questions answered.
“How do you know he was getting wine?” I asked in a voice I almost didn’t recognize as the two cops stared at me. “You said he stopped for wine. How do you know he was getting wine?”
“He put the bottle down on the floor when the robbery started. He was the only person in the back of the store.”
That made sense. More questions. In the midst of my absolute heartbreak and horror, I was consumed with the need to have answers. “What happened to the girl?”
“Your dad saved her life. Who knows what that guy would have done if he’d gotten her outside with him. A lot of gang members have to do crazy things during their initiation. Kidnapping can be one of them.”
“Where’s the robber now? Did you catch him?”
The younger cop avoided my eyes as the older one maintained hard contact. “He got away. But we’ll get him, Cammie. We’ll find this asshole. I promise you.”
“Thanks.” It was a stupid thing to say. Thanks? Who the fuck cared about thanks at a time like this?
“The station will be in touch. We’re so sorry for your loss. He was a good cop,” the younger officer said, his tone sincere.
“And a great man. I’ve known your dad for years,” the older one added.
Glancing down at my mom, I noticed she hadn’t moved from her fetal position on the floor of our foyer. Her body shook violently as she rocked back and forth. I wanted to fall apart myself, but how could I come undone when my mom was completely unraveled?
“Thanks for telling us,” I said, then closed the door, uncaring if I was rude to them, but I couldn’t care less at this point. I needed to get my mom off the floor.
“Mom. Mom, let’s get up. Please get up.”
I’d locked my arms under hers as I tried to lift her, but she wouldn’t budge and I hadn’t been strong enough. By the time I’d finally gone to bed that night, she was still in the exact same place, in the same position as right after she’d gotten the news.
• • •
“Okay,” Dr. Patel said, nodding with understanding. “Well, that’s most likely where the panic attack stemmed from.”
“Was I dying?” I asked, because it sure as hell seemed like it. “It felt like I was having a heart attack.”
She patted my arm and smiled at me. “That’s completely normal. Most patients who have them report those very feelings and emotions.”
The doctor’s voice and words were meant to soothe me, I knew that, but they did little to calm me. I didn’t want to have panic attacks every time I worried about Dalton.
Kristy stood up from the visitor’s chair and stepped toward the bed. “So, what do we do going forward? She can’t go through that again.”
Dr. Patel pulled a pad and a pen from the pocket of her white coat, scribbling away as she said, “I’ll give you a prescription for something that you can take if you feel an attack coming on. I don’t think you need to take this long term, or on days when you’re feeling perfectly fine.”
I nodded in complete agreement. The last thing I wanted was to get addicted to any kind of prescription medication. I didn’t use recreational drugs, and on the rare occasion that I drank, it was only a glass or two of wine. The idea of having to take something every day to ward off potential anxiety attacks scared me.
“So, are the symptoms always the same?” I asked. “I mean, how will I know when it’s happening again?” The thought of going through another attack like this made me shudder.
“You’ll know. You’ll recognize the feelings.” Dr. Patel seemed confident in her assessment. “And as soon as they start, just take one of these and everything will start to level off again. But if this doesn’t help”—she waved the prescription pad in the air—“or your attacks get worse, I want you to call me.”
“Okay. Thank you,” I said as I took the prescription from the doctor’s hand and silently hoped I’d never have to call her again.
Where the Hell Is He
Cammie
I was released from the hospital that evening when my vitals had returned to normal and I felt confident enough to go. That whole experience had been terrifying for me.
After Kristy drove me home, walked me inside, and tucked me into bed with the TV on, she made a couple of phone calls and worked out getting my car back to the condo complex. She also had my prescription filled. She was an angel disguised as a sassy legal-interning devil.
“Thank you so much for doing that,” I told her once she returned from picking up my car. “And thanks for staying here with me.”
She tossed her overnight bag on my bedroom floor and hopped onto my bed. “Not a problem. But don’t ever do that shit to me again. That was so scary, seeing you like that.”
I sucked in a deep breath, thankful that I now could. “I was terrified; there’s just no other word for it. I never want to go through that again. I can’t believe some people have those all the time.”
“Not that I want to trigger you into another one, but any word from Dalton?” she asked hesitantly.
I glanced at my phone again, already knowing the answer. “No. Nothing.”
“What the fuck?” she spat out as my eyes instantly teared up. “I don’t understand this. At all.”
Blinking back my tears, I shrugged. “The only thing I can think of is that something bad has happened. Why else would he disappear on me like that? He wouldn’t, would he?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then where is he?” I choked out as a stubborn tear slid down my cheek.
Kristy scooted closer and flung an arm around me. “I don’t know,” she whispered.
�
��I can’t do this.” I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping that the darkness would numb the worry and the pain.
“Do what?” she asked as she leaned her head against mine.
“I just don’t think I can do this with Dalton. Assuming, of course, that he’s not lying in a ditch somewhere.” I wiped at my tears. “I just don’t think I’m the kind of person who can date a cop.”
When my dad was killed, I had been forever branded. Death always marked those left behind, but when that death was a murder, it left additional scars. I’d dealt with those, and for the most part, been fine. But in all the years since, I’d never once been filled with such sheer panic and terror. I’d never really experienced just how emotionally messed up I could be because of my dad’s occupation and the way he died.
But now, knowing that Dalton did this sort of thing for a living, I was shoved so deep into emotional turmoil that I didn’t know how to dig myself out. Emotions I didn’t know I was capable of came to life. Fears, concerns, general terror—all things I didn’t have to live with on a daily basis because I had never dated a cop before now.
What happened tonight clearly showed me I couldn’t handle it. For as strong as I was, I was not strong enough to deal with this; I just wasn’t equipped. Panic attacks and the need for medication were pretty good indicators of my inability to take this all in stride.
My mind whirling, I’d almost forgotten Kristy was there until she spoke up.
“Remember when we put that sticker on him at the grocery store?”
“We?” I forced a small smile as the memory came rushing back. “That was all you.”
• • •
“Look, Cammie,” Kristy had said way too loudly as we walked into the grocery store where Dalton worked. I’d glanced over in the direction she was staring and felt my insides soften and go gooey, just like they did every time I looked at him. He looked so hot in his white button-down shirt and jeans as he stacked the produce.
“Hey, Dalton!”
When Kristy shouted at him, he turned around, wiping his hands on the front of the black apron his boss made him wear. “Hey, Kristy. Hey, Cammie.” He smiled at us as we neared.
