The Existence of Amy

by Lana Grace Riva

  I am none of those things. I am simply scared. So. Very. Scared. All. The. Time.

  Ed interrupts my thoughts by asking me what I think about the new piece I realise we're currently standing in front of. Somehow, he successfully draws me into conversation about it and we continue on having an enjoyable visit.

  Aside from the little chair blip leading to familiar sadness filled thinking, the visit really has been enjoyable.

  The time passes so quickly I am disappointed when he says, 'We should really head back now. There's taking a long lunch and then there's just plain taking the piss.'

  I smile. 'Guess so. Ok, let's walk back. Thanks for this though, you've brightened what started out as a pretty miserable day.'

  He smiles back. 'Good to hear. It's brightened my day too.'

  Chapter 11

  A couple of evenings later we are all working late to meet a deadline the following day. There is nothing strictly for Sally to do but she stays on anyway. She always does when others in her team need to work late. She is not obliged to do this at all, it is certainly not part of her official job description as project manager. She will argue it is part of her job description though, simply falling under the realm of looking after her team.

  She will do coffee runs, she will order us dinner, she will go to the shops if anyone feels like they need something. Any way possible that presents itself for her to help she will happily do so.

  She doesn't hover or do all this in a disruptive way. For someone who's default setting is loud and chatty she somehow manages to curtail this and generally only speaks when she knows it will be of some genuine help.

  It's all very lovely of her.

  Nathan and Ed decide to go for a walk to the coffee shop themselves at one point as they feel the need for a break.

  'I think we're not actually that far off finishing now so it shouldn't be crazy late tonight.' I let her know.

  'Great. Do you have five minutes for a quick break and chat then?'

  'Sure. What's up?'

  'Remember the woman we were talking about the other day who Nathan decided to fall in love with?'

  'Hmm… remind me, which one?'

  She smiles, 'The one that was here for a meeting and was really rude to everyone.'

  'Oh yes. What about her?'

  'She emailed me earlier asking for Nathan's details. She asked under the flimsy pretence of needing to send him something. So, I replied saying she could just send whatever to me and I would forward it on. Her response was that she felt it would build a better relationship with us if everyone on the team was contactable.'

  'Well, some clients are like that so it's not entirely implausible that she would say that I guess.'

  'No. Not entirely. But I just get the feeling that was not her angle.'

  'Didn't you say she ignored him in the meeting though?'

  'She did pretty much. But maybe Nathan was right. People do seem to fall in love with him as much as he falls in love with others. But regardless of how she feels I don't really want to encourage a relationship. Nathan hasn't asked me again for her details so I was hoping it wouldn't go any further.'

  'You're sweet to want to protect him but maybe this woman is not so bad. She might have just been having an off day when you met her? Maybe she'd just spilt coffee on her new expensive outfit, or she'd heard there were redundancies being made in her company, or some other kind of bad news. Loads of possible reasons. I know it doesn't excuse her rudeness, but we all have moments when we are not our best. She might actually be a really lovely person.'

  'Or, she might just be like that all the time and Nathan will fall in love with her regardless and we will be subjected to her at all future social occasions.'

  I smile. 'I think you should pass on the details and let them figure it out.'

  'I'm wishing I hadn't asked you now, I knew you would give me an answer I wouldn't want.' she smiles.

  'If it makes you feel better, I would guess you will still likely get your preferred outcome in the end anyway. If she is genuinely interested, they'll go on a few dates, he'll get bored and it will naturally fizzle out.'

  'True.'

  Sally genuinely cares for Nathan, and wants him to be happy, of that I have no doubt. However, I suspect her frequent meddling in his love life is given strength more so by the fact he gives her more attention when he's single.

  Chapter 12

  The following weeks pass in a whirl of planning and organising. I take on an almost separate existence. An existence of someone who is in no doubt about going on this trip.

  I respond to all Sally's questions and requests such as what is required information needed for travel arrangements.

  I go shopping for new things I might need for the trip. Miniature toiletries, summer clothes, sunglasses. All the normal things one might purchase for a trip abroad.

  Plus a few non-normal things.

  Bottles of handwash just in case they don't have any in the hotel. Even if they do have some, it would be unlikely I'd be comfortable using them.

  New towels that I will use only on this trip then dispose of them on return. If it was possible to fit bedding in my suitcase I would take my own of that too, but as I am confined by space I concede this is something I will just have to try and cope with.

  Packets of tissues. Numerous packets. I'm sure I will be able to buy some once there, but I have to make sure I have enough for the journey and until I am within distance of a shop.

  I move my body through each day as best I can under the pretence of someone excited about going on holiday.

  I engage in the planning conversations with enthusiasm. Somewhat tainted, Amy level enthusiasm that is. It is always prevented from reaching its full potential as anxiety will step in to ensure this never happens. But I can feign something resembling it at least at times.

  Ed has lots of suggestions for things for us to do. He spent some time living in Sydney, so we are all happy to defer to his opinions and ideas.

  Bars, restaurants and cafes feature highly in his suggestions. I know he was really into water sports when he lived there but he doesn't give these too much spotlight in his ideas. I know he's doing this for my benefit.

  He of course doesn't leave them out completely as he wants everyone to have a good time and a good experience, but he is careful with his words to ensure there is no pressure to participate. And neither will he make anyone (ok, mostly me) feel like they are really missing out if they don't want to do something.

  As the trip draws nearer, I try to absorb myself in work. I'm changing tact now. Keep your mind busy with work Amy and pretend the trip does not even exist. If it doesn't exist there is no cause for concern. No need to alert anxiety to the fact its presence is required.

  Chapter 13

  When our departure day eventually arrives, Ed picks me up on the way to the airport. It's not on his way but I suspect this is his way of gently ensuring I do actually turn up. Good strategy Ed.

  I really have been back and forth quite a bit about whether to go on this trip or not. It would have been something I'd be so excited about doing before. I would have looked forward to it for weeks, focused solely on all the opportunities for fun and new adventure.

  My focus has wobbled quite substantially in my current reality. All the opportunities for potential discomfort have made an unwelcome prominence, well and truly dulling the shine off any excitement.

  I used to love travel so much. I loved it even more if it involved going on a plane. I loved the sensation of being high up in the sky sitting next to the clouds. This love has been somewhat surpassed by other feelings now. It has been all but abandoned, replaced by fear.

  Not fear of flying in the way other people fear it. I have no fear of bad turbulence, or the far greater worry of being subjected to a plane crash. I have fear of being subjected to merely sitting in a plane with no control over my surroundings.

  All the things I fear on a short bus journey are elevated to a dizzily high ne
w level on a plane. If I start to feel anxiety I cannot simply get off at the next stop and extricate myself from the discomfort with speed.

  I am well and truly trapped.

  So, the idea of being on even a short haul flight will present to me not an overly appealing prospect. London to Australia is one of the longest flight journeys I think that exists so why am I even vaguely contemplating it?

  This feels like too big a challenge. Too big a challenge to attempt. But also, too big a challenge to not attempt.

  I've gradually watched event after event evade my presence. I've tried to ignore the fact and pretend they were not too big a deal and I would simply attend the next one. But more and more of the next ones have fallen down the same drain of avoidance.

  Some have affected me more than others and as the days passed in the lead up to the Australia trip I have become more and more aware of a strong wave of feeling I can't quite identify. It feels like it's trying to warn me. It's trying to warn me the importance of this trip. If I don't go this might be the one to damage me beyond repair.

  I try to apply some logic to my decision and think through possible outcomes.

  If I do go, I might spend a large amount of time in a state of distress. But then, that is pretty much my default setting at home too. I might have some kind of breakdown in front of my work colleagues, causing them to harshly judge me and realise I'm weirder than they already suspected. They might distance themselves from me and I might end up losing them as friends. I might have to leave my job as it's too uncomfortable being that person people have the story about from Australia.

  If I don't go, however, it will be like accepting the big seal of confirmation that hovers over my head. 'This thing is ruining your life Amy' confirmation. Then the other thing will come visit. The thing that engulfs me in sadness. It might stay longer this time. Maybe it would never leave.

  I have repetitively gone back and forth assessing which has the risk of the worse outcome and I realised that the outcome of one choice is almost certainly guaranteed, whereas the other does have some potential for good.

  There is a small (slightly delusional I can concede) part of me that wonders if perhaps leaving my life here could end up being some kind of miracle cure. As though travelling through a time zone might be all I need to reset my brain and transport me back to normality.

  Putting myself through a test of this magnitude might be just what my brain needs. It feels like it's worth a try even if I am potentially deluding myself.

  On account of this I finally arrive at my decision when I hear Ed ringing the doorbell.

  Ok, going.

  Let's try Amy. Let's at least try.

  Ed looks a little surprised when I open the door and he registers my appearance to match one of someone who is about to go on holiday. It's only a fleeting look though before it is surpassed by a beaming smile.

  I smile back at him and I know our silent transmissions are so much more than simple excitement about going on a trip.

  We're both happy I've decided to attempt this.

  Ed offers to carry my suitcase out to the car and after pausing to assess, I conclude my case is going to be touched by many strangers on the journey so I may as well also let Ed.

  His excited mood on the car ride to the airport is infectious and helps convince me I made the right decision. Hanging out with my friends is fun when I get to acknowledge it, so I need to keep that memento going and lessen the memento of acknowledging the other.

  I just hope, pray, and beg that is a possible thing to do.

  'This is going to be so much fun!' Ed grins.

  Believe this sentence Amy. Please believe it. Absorb it, focus on it often and hope beyond all hope that it can come true for you.

  Chapter 14

  Airports and I are not the best of friends. There's too much going on for me, I don't always have enough time to scan and assess. I feel control begin its departure from my grasp almost as soon as I walk in the main entrance.

  When I was a kid, I loved airports. A building full of stories. The ultimate place to people-watch.

  Tears streaming in response to goodbyes. Tears streaming in response to hellos. Solo travellers wishing to escape. Escape what? Families screaming at each other. They need this holiday. Business travellers about to make a career defining presentation. Or just another mundane soul-destroying commute. People leaving to start new lives in a different county, hoping they've made the right decision. People returning from living in a different county, hoping they've made the right decision.

  People-watching and pondering their stories isn't something I can really expect to engage in anymore. There's no room. My focus and concentration are forced elsewhere.

  Once everyone in our group has arrived, we make our way towards security. This is the first major hurdle for me. The others are all excitedly chatting away, likely giving barely any thought to what they are about to do. To them, passing through security is just a part of the airport experience. I doubt it would be described as enjoyable by anyone but far from particularly horrendous either.

  I wish I had an even vaguely similar stance to this. I am unfortunately, however, firmly in the horrendous viewing realm.

  I grow quieter and quieter as the queue progresses. I need to concentrate.

  On reaching the front I lift a requisite tray and, as quickly as my brain allows, form my possessions inside it ensuring the least possible contact with the tray itself.

  The security man does not agree with my little formation, however, and starts squishing everything into all corners of the tray. His hands all over, touching everything.

  Heat starts punching through my body.

  Please stop.

  Please stop Mr security man. I know and appreciate this is you trying to do your job efficiently, but this is also you freaking me the hell out.

  Please stop.

  I can't voice these words of course. And neither can I plead with my eyes, since he might misconstrue this as me trying to hide something. So, I look away and try and focus on walking through the security machine instead.

  On the other side I desperately will my belongings to move faster down the conveyer belt thing but just as they approach reachable distance a hand rests on my arm. 'Could you step over here please.'

  Can I? Yes. Only just, but yes. Do I want to? With every feeling in my body, absolutely not.

  'If you could please raise your arms, I'm just going to do a quick body search.'

  I imagine my level of distress at this point is somewhere similar to that of a person who is actually concealing a vast quantity of illegal substances on their body.

  I am of course thankful security is taken so seriously at airports and all the searching activities are carried out. Any actions taken by others to promote fear reduction are viewed highly in my mind. But still, when it's me being subjected to the search I want to scream.

  Not just in the way people say they want to scream but it's a mere throwaway comment referring only to the impact of the sentiment. In this instance, I very much literally want to scream. I can feel the loud notes rushing up through my vocal cords desperately attempting to break free.

  'Get off me with your hands!' 'Please DO NOT touch me!!'

  These words I cannot allow to meet air, however, or I will likely be led away to a scary room and not allowed any further on this trip. Or indeed any future trips involving air travel.

  So, all the strength I am in possession of is directed at keeping them supressed. I try and will myself to focus on breathing. Breathing will get you through this Amy. Slow deep breathes.

  Just. Keep. Breathing.

  When it's finally over I grab my possessions and join the others waiting for me as quickly as I can. Moving at speed cannot fix what has just happened but I still sense the need to run away from danger, so I comply.

  Sometimes I feel like just running. Running fast and never stopping. Maybe I could go so far, I could outrun it. Outrun the fear and eventually reach
some utopian location where there is only calm.

  Another little delusional dream.

  'Trying to smuggle something dodgy are you Ames? Glad I didn't decide to ask you to be in charge of my contraband.' Nathan jokes.

  I half-heartedly manage a smile that is far from genuine and keep walking.

  Our departure gate has not yet been revealed so people make various decisions on how to occupy themselves until then and split up.

  I'm not sure what to do. I strongly feel like I need to do something to fix what's just happened. How can I undo all the hands all over me and my possessions? The only real way to rectify it would be to shower and wash my clothes but that just isn't an option here. I scramble to find some adequate alternative but I'm struggling to think of anything that will even remotely suffice.

  I become aware that I really don't feel right. The fear is seeping through me. Heat is rising and swarming around all my limbs. Am I breathing right? I'm not sure. Do I even still know how to breathe? Surely you cannot forget this most basic human action but in this moment it seems like I might have.

  'Amy.'

  Everything is blurred out around me, my body and my fear have such heightened focus, there is none left for anything else.

  'Amy?'

  I can hear a sound but it's also a bit blurred. Shit. I need to fix this. Right now.

  'Amy?'

  Ed's hand hovers over my arm but he seems to think better off it and pulls it back. Instead he repeats my name a little louder and sharper and moves his face in front of mine.

  It's enough to pull my attention and he looks at me, eyes filled with compassion, and asks quietly 'What can I do?'

  What can he do. I wish there was something. I wish I could tell him all this going on inside my head. But it's so hard to explain and even if I could, he would certainly think I was crazy. His kind compassionate face would form an expression of distance and confusion as he realised there was something he really didn't understand in his friend.