Chapter Fifteen
“I’ve missed you,” greeted Marc as he enclosed Penny in his arms. She always smelled so good, he wasn’t sure what it was, just a particular Penny scent that he couldn’t get enough of.
She sighed and snuggled up to his chest. “Me too,” she said. “It’s been a rough couple of days.”
He held her at arm’s length. “How come?” He tried to keep his voice neutral and watched as Penny gave him a tired smile.
“I had another attack yesterday. At Greens.”
“Shit, Pen.” He hugged her close again. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said, her words muffled from talking against his chest. “I’m sick of them, but I’m fine.”
“Did you go to the doctors?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
Penny went quiet in his arms. Marc waited for her to say something, but the silence stretched on. Then she sighed and pulled herself free. “It’s just something I have to work through.” Her smile slipped a little.
“Can I help?”
“Not really, no.” She took his hand. He noticed the enormous bags around her eyes and immediately wondered if she’d slept properly.
“If and when you can, I’ll be right here, asking you. But right now? Just if I have an attack, make sure I don’t make an idiot out of myself, okay?”
“Sure.”
He didn’t like it. Didn’t they promise each other there would be no secrets?
Without another word he stalked out through the wings and on to the stage, his heart racing. What was she not telling him? Why did she need to keep things from him?
He tried to calm his breathing - he was getting overwrought about nothing. Penny would tell him when she was ready.
“No,” he said, and the word reverberated in the gloomy dimness of the stage. “No.”
“What no?” said Chris, strolling on to the stage. “What are you talking about?”
Now, Marc was thankful for the dull blue light, since his blush wouldn’t be able to be seen. “Some of the furniture that should be here isn’t.”
“Then you’d best go look for it, shouldn’t you?”
Marc sidled right up to Chris, getting in his face. “You can be an arsehole sometimes you know. You’re no better than me.”
Chris backed away, palms upward. “Hey, man, I was just kidding around,” he said with a smile. “What’s up with you tonight? You’re pretty highly strung.”
“Nothing,” growled Marc, running a hand through his hair and stalking away.
What the hell was wrong with him? He didn’t lash out at people like that. Not ever. He made his way through the wings, locating the pieces that should be on stage and placing them, letting his racing pulse and his unwelcome anger subside.
He needed Penny to tell him what was up with her. He needed to know that tomorrow, when he woke up, he wouldn’t find her unresponsive.
And if she couldn’t assure him of that, then he needed to let her go.
The realization hit him like someone had punched him in the solar plexus. He would have to let her go. He couldn’t do the whole mental illness thing again. He just couldn’t. He would never survive through that again. His heart had been shredded, and the guilt was so bad, he would spend hours standing under the shower, just crying, wishing he had known she was in such pain, reliving again and again the times when he should have seen the signs, beating himself up over letting her go through that with no support from him.
“Ten minutes,” he heard in his earpiece.
Okay, right now he needed to focus. There was a show to take care of. But he would have to talk seriously to Penny sometime soon, make her understand that he couldn’t live with her having secrets.
She would have to tell him. He would make her tell him.
Or, they would have to break it off.
His heart hurt at the very thought.
Penny was pretty sure she had brought on Marc’s mood when she wouldn’t tell him what was going on with her panic attacks. He had stridden away from her, and kept looking at her with a concerned expression that she just wanted to slap off his face.
As for Penny, the tears continued to reside just under the surface, waiting for her to tip the balance and spill them over again. How she had kept it together all day at work was beyond her. Her old passive persona served her well - she smiled, spoke as little as she could, and interacted as little as possible. But doing that had left her exhausted and strung out, worse than she had felt in years. And now Marc, the one person she thought perhaps she might get some support from, was behaving like a class one jerk. Well, she knew how to protect herself from that. She would just retreat into her shell, doing what needed to be done, but not allowing anyone, least of all Marc, to draw her out tonight.
But it seemed Marc was having none of that. To Penny’s dismay, he came charging up to her as soon as the changes were done for Scene Eight. It was a long break between scenes, and one that Marc obviously planned to make use of.
“I need to talk to you, Penny,” he said, taking her arm. She pulled out of his grasp.
“I have no desire to talk to you.”
His eyes snapped with anger. “We can do this here, in the wings, or we can go into the green room. Your choice.”
Not wanting to create more of a scene than Marc already was, Penny walked stiffly into the green room, then turned to Marc, her arms crossed defensively over her chest.
“What do you want, Marc?” she said, her voice quiet and chilly.
“I want to know what’s wrong with you.”
“Nothing.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it.”
“Fine. There is something wrong with me. But it’s not something I can talk to you about. Not yet, at least.”
“Why not?” Marc grabbed her arms, his distress obvious even though he still spoke in whispers. “I thought we were going to have no secrets from each other, Pen. I thought we agreed to that.”
Penny was silent, her eyes pleading with Marc to understand. “I can’t tell you. Not yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m still working through it.”
“Through what?”
“Stop it Marc.” The tears Penny had been holding back all day drew precariously close to the surface. She angrily wiped away the one that managed to escape. “I can’t tell you. That needs to be enough.”
“Well, it’s not, alright? I’m not sure this will work if you think it’s okay to hold back like this.”
He turned away from her and stalked back toward the stage.
Penny stood for a moment, her mouth hanging open in shock, then strode back to her stage manager’s table, her jaw clenched so much that it hurt. There were too many questions pounding in her brain, too many bright sparks of anger and hurt and…
Oh no. She doubled over, the pain starting again, from her chest and radiating out all her extremities. She felt like her breath deserted her, that the small amount of air she took in had no oxygen and that she would faint. Memories descended upon her, people and places and names… a nameless baby with its life torn away… guilt and sadness, overwhelming sadness. She scrambled for a handhold, happy to find a wall she could lean on. She sunk to the floor, balled up in pain and panic. She didn’t know how much time passed, if any. There were no thoughts, nothing, except her own psyche.
Breathe, Penny. Just breathe.
“Penny!” Someone ran up beside her, placing a hand on her back. “Penny, what’s wrong?” She couldn’t reply, couldn’t even look up. The pain shot everywhere over her body, pricking every nerve and blasting through her muscles. “Marc!”
No. Don’t call Marc.
And then he was there, cradling her, smoothing her hair from her face, telling everyone that she would be fine, everyone just needed to give her some space.
Her pulse slowed, and she found herself crying, her face buried in Marc’s shirt. He held her close, whispering, “Everything’s fine, Pen. Just breathe, baby. I got you.”
She moaned. “Everything hurts.”
“I know, Pen, but it’ll come good soon.”
Suddenly, she never wanted to let Marc go. No matter how angry he made her, or how frustrated. “Never leave me, Marc.” She clung to his shirt. “Never leave me.”
She felt his muscles stiffen, and when his only answer was a quick kiss to the top of her head, her tears started up afresh.