by Portia Moore
“William! William!”
Her yells turn to screams as I hear footsteps leaving the room. My whole body is shaking. It’s harder and harder to breath.
“I’m calling 911,” I hear someone say, but everything is starting to sound muffled.
I don’t know who says what.
Then.
I feel a warm hand on my arm and I’m pushed back on the couch.
“I think he’s having a heart attack,” a voice says.
“He’s not having a heart attack,” says another voice.
A moment later, someone is sitting on top of me, warm hands grip my chin and lift my head up.
Lauren is sitting on top of me, on my lap. Her hands are shaking and she’s holding my head between them, making me look at her.
“Chris, you have to breathe,” she says, her voice is shaky but stern. “Everything is okay. You just have to breathe,” she says again. I nod as I try to do as she says. My mom has Caylen in her arms but is still on the phone.
“Deep breaths, Chris. Everything is fine,” she says, stroking my head, holding my cheek close to her chest. My chest relaxes and air starts to fill my lungs again. I feel my temperature cooling, my heart not racing as fast.
“It’s going to be okay. Breathe through your nose now,” she says, continuing to stroke my head. Her voice isn’t shaky anymore. Instead, it's calm, sweet like a lullaby, and all of my senses slowly return to normal.
“What just happened?” mom says frantically. I glance up at her, the color almost gone from her face. She’s shaking, with Caylen in one hand and a phone in the other.
“Oh, yes ma’am, never mind. Everything’s fine. He’s going to be okay,” she says into the phone.
“He just had a panic attack,” Lauren says, still holding me close. I notice my arms are around her back. I don’t even remember putting them there, but it feels natural, and I’m still not letting her go.
“My friend used to have them,” she says quietly. I feel her leaning back, away from me. I loosen my grip around her waist. I’m too embarrassed to look up at her. She lifts my chin up so that I have to look at her and she smiles. The sweetest smile I’ve ever seen from her, the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen in my life. She looks like an angel.
“You saved me,” I say gratefully, looking up into those big hazel eyes. I didn’t realize how much I missed seeing them until now.
She shakes her head. “You weren’t dying.” She giggles.
“I almost died!” my mom says, breathing with relief. She holds a hand to her chest.
“What’s going on?” My dad’s voice is sharp and angry. Everyone’s attention turns to him. Lauren immediately slips off my lap.
“Chris had some sort of panic attack” my mom explains.
“I thought I was having a heart attack,” I explain, missing the warmth of Lauren’s body. My dad frowns.
Lauren brings me a glass of water.
“Thank you,” I say gratefully.
“No problem,” she says simply, a small smile on her face.
She’s looking at me again.
“I really thought he was dying,” my mom says, her voice choking. Lauren takes Caylen from my mom, who immediately rushes over and hugs me.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I say. She looks more afraid than I felt.
“Don’t do that again,” she says sternly, and I laugh after she kisses me on the head like I’m five.
“Thank you, Lauren,” she says, then goes over to her and squeezes her tightly.
“I was so scared, William,” she says, relieved, then swats my dad on the shoulder.
“What took you so long?” she asks him angrily.
“I came as fast as I could,” he says defensively.
First DID and now panic attacks? What a great catch I am, but at least it was better than a blackout.
“What happened?” my dad asks gruffly.
“It just came out of nowhere. We were talking and he went pale. He was shaking and then saying he couldn’t breathe,” my mom answers for me.
Lauren looks at me a little suspiciously.
“What were you talking about?” my dad asks.
“Nothing in particular,” my mom answers again.
“Thank God Lauren was here. That would have been another medical bill that we don’t need,” I say, stretching my limbs.
“Yeah, thank God,” my dad mumbles before leaving the room. Now I feel heat on my face and everything around me starts to blur. I’m no longer in my parents’ house but in a small apartment with boxes all stacked up.
“Thank God that’s the last box. I didn’t think that many clothes could fit in this apartment,” Lauren says, flopping onto a small white couch in a little apartment. Her hair’s up in a ponytail and she’s wearing a tiny white t-shirt, revealing her stomach as her sweatpants sit low on her waist.
“Well everyone’s closet can’t be big as a freakin’ living room, Mr. Scott,” she quips, walking towards him. He pulls her by the hand to sit on his lap.
“Yours will be now,” he retorts as he kisses her neck.
“It will.” She giggles, wiggling on his lap.
“Don’t wake up the monster unless you want him to come out to play,” he says in her ear.
“Maybe I want him to come out to play,” she says seductively, her hands rubbing against his crotch. In a second, he’s rolled on top of her on the couch.
“I was kidding!” She laughs and he tickles her until she turns red.
“Stop. Cal. Please,” she says between fits of laughter. He stop and kisses her on the neck and she wraps her arms around his neck.
“Is it always going to be this great?” she asks sincerely.
“It’ll be even better,” he says confidently, and she bites her lip and sighs.
“I can’t believe we’ll be married next month,” she squeals, and then her expression falls. “Are you sure you really want to marry me? To be with me and just me for the rest of your entire life? When I’m old, wrinkly, gray, and my boobs sag down to the floor?” she asks, her eyes sparkling.
“I didn’t sign up for saggy boobs,” he says with a grimace, shaking his head. She frowns at him and then he cracks a smile. She pushes him away.
“I haven’t second-guessed us since the moment you said yes,” he says with certainty.
“You see something good in me. You look at me like I’m not a problem or a villain,” he says, rubbing the skin on her back, and she looks troubled.
“Who would see you that way? The people who work for you?” she guesses.
“No, it doesn’t matter. The important thing is that you don’t,” he says with a shrug.
“I could never see you that way,” she promises with a smile so wide that both her dimples are visible. “What do you see when you look at me?” she asks quietly.
“Someone kind, loyal, and affectionate. Someone who wants to give as much love as she gets,” he says, looking her in the eye.
“So my looks don’t matter at all?” she jokes.
“Oh no, they do. You’re hot has hell,” he replies, giving her butt a squeeze, and she laughs.
“I’ll never see you that way,” she says quietly. “You’ll never be a villain. You’ll always be my prince charming,” she says reassuringly, sitting on his lap exactly the same way as she was during my panic attack.
“You promise?” he asks her, his tone almost vulnerable.
“I promise,” she says, before kissing him.
They say near-death experiences tend to wake you up and make you see things in a different light. I wouldn’t necessarily call a panic attack a near-death experience, but it woke me up. I felt like I had been sleepwalking for the past week and a half, breathing but not living, hearing but not listening. Now I want to live; I want to listen; I want to feel.
I never would want a panic attack but I’ll take that over a blackout any day. I wonder where he is, if Cal has given up. I’d think a panic attack or any sign of trouble would be his openi
ng to slip through. But he didn’t. My body nearly shut down because he didn’t but I’m ignoring that fact. I came back from it. I came back from it because of Lauren. Her smile brought me out of the emotional dessert I was in. Her touch brought me back. Her calming voice let me know everything would be okay. She was what was missing, not the shell of her, but the real her.
I missed her and missing her made me feel like a part of me was missing. The only thing is, the part of me that was missing could be the part of me that I want gone. The moment I felt her open up to me again, I had another memory come full force. I know now that she is a trigger. That’s one thing my dad is right about but I’m not so sure that it’s a bad thing. What I need to know now is what to do about it.
She’s strong, but fragile. She puts up a hard shell around herself but she’s vulnerable and I know my actions affect her more than anyone else's. Well, almost anyone, and that’s the problem. What scares me more than anything is that the memories that make me feel closer to her make me seem closer to him. This bond that I see is between them. Between her and Cal.
Besides Caylen, I think she loves him more than anyone. How can I compete with that? How could she ever look at me and not wish that I were him? But I’m not going to worry about that today. If they had memories, then we need to make our own. That’s what I’ve been telling myself as I stand outside her door with this box in my hand. I feel like a creep. I set the box down, my nerves getting the best of me. If she shoots me down, it’s going to take me a few days to recover, but then again, maybe I need to be shot down. I haven’t talked to Jenna today and I know that I need to. Right now, I’m trying to take one thing at a time. I decide to just do it. I knock on her door. Then I wonder why I didn’t just send her a text. It’s quiet in her room, no music or talking. It’s 9:30 so she could be asleep. Before I can overanalyze any further, she opens the door and looks at me curiously. The funny thing is, she's wearing a white tank and sweats just like in the last memory I had of her, but this time a white sweater is covering most of her body.
“How are you feeling?” she asks. She’s actually looking at me, not staring past me. I can’t explain how good that feels.
“I’m good, really good, actually,” I say honestly, and a smile spreads across her face. “I-I got you something to say thanks,” I say, and she looks at me curiously.
“Really?” she asks, excitement creeping into her voice. She’s excited.
“Yeah,” I say, my own excitement growing.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she says, almost reminding herself she shouldn’t be.
“I wanted to,” I say sincerely.
“Can you throw on a jacket. I want to show it to you outside. I’ll tell my mom to listen in on Caylen,” I explain. She looks at me suspiciously, a glint in her eye.
“Uhm. Okay. Just give me a minute,” she says, and I nod. I head upstairs, ask my mom to listen in on Caylen, and she agrees. I grab the box and meet Lauren back at her room.
“For me?” she guesses, her eyes gleaming, and I nod. I gesture for her to come with me. Once we make it outside, I can tell she’s anxious. The box is pretty big so I hold it for her.
“Can I open it now?” she asks enthusiastically. I nod and she quickly lifts the top off, revealing a pair of brand new white roller skates. She starts to laugh.
“You shouldn’t have,” she says, picking one up and examining it closely.
“You don’t like them?” I say, trying to hide my disappointment, and she quickly shakes her head.
“No, they’re beautiful. It’s just, well, you saw me back at the rink. The only thing I’m worse at is cooking.” She chuckles.
“My mom says you’re getting better at it,” I assure her, and she shrugs.
“Are you going to try them on?” I ask her, and she looks a little skeptical.
“I was just so bad at it last time,” she says nervously, tucking a loose piece of hair behind her ear.
“Aidan just sucked as a teacher,” I tease her.
She looks at me skeptically but then concedes. She sits down on the porch, takes off her shoes, and carefully puts on both skates.
“Okay, give me your hands,” I say, and she slowly puts them out. I take them and pull her towards me. Except it’s a little too fast and her chest crashes into mine. She looks up at me apologetically.
“Sorry, I told you I suck,” she says quietly. As I look down at her, I have to fight the urge to kiss her. It’s hard, but I do. I show her how use the brake on the skates to stop, and how it’s better if she tries to slide her feet rather than walk choppily the way she did with Aidan. After about 30 minutes, she’s confident enough to try without holding my hand, and when she skates a few feet by herself, you’d think she won the lottery.
“I can’t believe it!” she squeals as she carefully turns around and starts to skate towards me. She doesn’t go that fast, but her movements are much more fluid than before.
“You’re a much better teacher than Aidan,” she quips once she makes her way to me.
“In his defense, I think he liked you falling all over him.” She looks away from me bashfully. She clears her throat and runs her hand through her hair.
“Can you help me over to the stairs,” she giggles, sticking out her hand. I laugh and take it. Her hand feels so small in mine but we fit. She sits on the stairs and starts to untie her skates.
“About that night,” she says quietly, and I feel my stomach drop. “I’m sorry that I did that,” she says glancing at her skates.
“You don’t owe me an apology,” I say.
“No. I should. I wasn’t thinking,” she says quietly. “Actually, I was, but not with my brain. It’s just this is a lot harder for me than I thought it would be,” she continues. “I think I’m doing pretty well. God, if this would have been three years ago.” She laughs, shaking her head. “It still wasn’t an excuse for the position I put you in. I know that you want us to be friends and at first I didn’t think I could be okay with that,” she says, glancing up at me. “But today, when you had your panic attack, it occurred to me how much I need you. And, even though it was not life-threatening, I realized that I need you in my life,” she says, her eyes on mine, the sincerity in her voice sends a chill up my spine.
“And not just for Caylen,” she says quickly. “So if it has to be as a friend, I can learn to do that. There may be times here and there where I’ll need a little space to remind myself that I’m your friend.” She chuckles, “But I can do that. I don’t want to lose this. I like getting to know you. It’s just that sometimes it's hard for me because the more I get to know you, the more I…” She stops herself and gives me a weak smile.
“What?” I ask her, walking closer to her. I just need her to say it. I look her in the eye, my heart beating rapidly, and she looks up at me like she’s contemplating. If she would just say it.
“Chris.” We turn to see my dad approaching us.
“Thank you for the skates. It was really nice of you,” Lauren says quietly before glancing at my Dad.
“Mr. Scott,” she says, acknowledging him before going into the house. Once she’s inside, my dad’s hard glare turns to me.
“What was that about?” he asks and I shrug.
“We went skating and Lauren didn’t know how so I thought I’d show her,” I say simply.
“You think that’s a good idea?” he asks sarcastically.
“I don’t see anything wrong with it and that’s what matters,” I say before heading up the stairs.
“Chris—”
My vision starts to blur again and I see myself storming down the stairs of my house. My face is red, there are tears in my eyes, and I look furious. My dad flies out of the house behind me.
“Chris. Just let me explain. Please,” he yells, trying to catch up with me.
“Don’t fucking talk to me. You stay the hell away from me!” I shout back at him.
“All these years, all lies. Your moral code, your rules and lectures
, you’re a liar. A fucking hypocrite,” I continue to shout at him. My dad looks like he’s seen a ghost as I look at him.
“I hate you!” I growl at him.
“You don’t mean that, son. You’re angry. You’re upset,” my dad stutters, and I turn to walk away but stop and turn around. In a split second my anger dissipates and a smug grin spreads across my face.
“I should thank you. Dad. You’ve just created the biggest problem of your life,” I say with a wicked grin on my face.
It’s him.
My dad stares back at me, slack-jawed. He’s frozen in place. I don’t think he realizes I’ve jumped in his truck until I’ve pulled off. He’s calling after me, running behind the truck, and I flip him off outside the window.
“Christopher!” my dad says, and I realize I’m back to the present. I try to shake the memory from my thoughts. Judging by my haircut and the way my dad looked, that had to have been years ago, I must have been in high school. I think the beginning of the memory was me, but the end was Cal.
“What’s wrong, son?” he asks, looking at me carefully.
“I think I just remembered something about us. Do you remember us having a big fight out here?” I ask him. He flinches a bit, then frowns.
“We’ve had our share of disagreements,” he says flatly.
“This one was really bad and I took your truck,” I say, my tone sharpening.
“Was that it?” he asks, eyeing me suspiciously.
“I don’t know. I just remembered it. Standing right here. Do you remember that happening?” I ask him again.
“I don’t remember anything like that,” he says adamantly.
“You don’t?” I ask him again.
“No. Nothing like that with you,” he insists.
“I think we both need to get some sleep,” he says, patting me on the shoulder before turning to go in the house.
This is the first memory I've had that didn’t involve Lauren, and the one person who can confirm it, who I used to trust, has just flat out lied to me.
Why?
Secret number one. Think, think, think, dumb ass. Don’t take too long. There’s so much more to come…
