Sarah
After two hours of being stuck in an elevator, the panic attack I’ve been fighting begins to consume me the moment I step onto solid ground. I manage to control myself long enough to say goodbye to Frank as he heads back to work, then rush out of McDougan & Kent and gulp air once I’m on the sidewalk around the corner.
My heart races. My blood boils. My chest burns. The piercing sunlight stabs at a headache forming at the base of my skull and the stench of exhaust makes me want to wretch.
Deep breaths, I tell myself. Deep, calming breaths.
I place a shaking hand flat against my stomach and focus on breathing, but the trembling continues. The panic attack rages on, full speed ahead, ready to push me over the edge of barely in control to a full-on breakdown. I fumble with my purse, my quaking hands searching serenity in the shape of a little orange container, the clatter of pills against the bottle both comforting and terrifying.
When was the last time I needed them like this? This frequently? This consistently? I struggle with the cap, then swallow one down before stepping to the curb and hailing a cab.
It’s too much.
It’s all too much.
Between my dwindling savings, my broken car, a fricken job interview, learning a new city, and whatever it is that’s going on between Frank and me, I’m barely able to keep control of myself as it is. But getting stuck in an elevator for two long hours? What cruel god is directing my life? What have I done to earn myself this shitstorm of problems dropping into my lap?
A cab stops in front of me and I tumble in, pulling my phone out of my bag as I give him the name of my hotel. We lurch into traffic, and I remind myself that I need to stop thinking about moving to one of those sketchy two-star extended stays and just do it already. Instead of listening to my own advice, I pull up Colton’s contact info and call him.
“Two calls from you in less than a week? What happened now?” Colton’s friendly voice brings the sting of tears to my eyes. I swallow hard and beg the medication to work sooner rather than later.
“Why does something have to have happened? Can’t I just want to talk to my brother?” I ask, as my eyes land on a woman striding down the sidewalk, phone pressed to her ear, chin up, jaw set. If only I could have a fraction of her strength, maybe things wouldn’t have gotten so bad. I wear confidence like body armor, but it’s all an act. Each sarcastic word, each condescending look, all of it is contrived to keep people from seeing how much it hurts to be me. To keep them from getting close enough to be another reason I hurt.
“Well, in that case, I’m so glad to hear from you again, dear sister. How are things in Denver?” The sarcasm dripping from Colton’s voice is oddly comforting.
“I got stuck in an elevator today.”
He snorts. “And that doesn’t count as something that happened to you?”
“Okay, fine. Something happened to me today. I applied for a job and got stuck in an elevator and now, I’m talking to my brother and he’s kind of being an asshole.” The tears that were threatening recede and I dab a finger at the corner of my eye.
“Wait, back up a second. You applied for a job?”
The cab lurches around a corner and I steady myself with a hand on the door. “Yeah. Remember the part where I wrecked my car and I’m stuck in Denver? I’m going to need money before I can leave, so, you know, employment seemed necessary.”
“You are something else, aren’t you?”
“I’m not even going to ask you what you’re talking about.” My lips still tingle from the receding panic attack. I chew on the bottom one and suck air through my nose.
In for four.
Out for four.
In for four.
Out for four.
Repeat…
…and repeat…
…and repeat.
I lock eyes with a homeless man leaning against a building. There’s a moment of connection and then we’re past him and he’s gone.
“Sarah?” Colton sounds worried.
I press my hand against the window and imagine I can see all the bits and pieces of my life through it. “Remember how we used to play in the apple orchard when we were kids? We’d run through the trees, playing hide and seek. Sometimes we’d skip the seeking part and just hide. We’d spend hours in there while Dad and David worked.”
“We’d get in so much trouble when we finally came out,” Colton says quietly.
I close my eyes and conjure up more memories. “Didn’t we, though?”
“Remember how good it smelled in the spring? When the blossoms were in bloom? It was like a whole different world in there.” His words are soft, nearly a whisper. Leave it to Colton to know what I need.
Something beautiful and wonderful.
Something soothing and constant.
A memory from before things went to hell.
“I miss it sometimes,” I say before I can think better of it. “Being a kid. I wish I could go back and fix everything that went wrong.”
“There’s nothing we can do about the past, but the future is one hundred percent in our control.” Colton pauses. I’m sure he’s about to ask what happened all those years ago, but as he always has, he moves on to safer topics. “Mom sends her love.” His words bring a lump to my throat. “So does David. And Tessa.”
I swallow my emotions and wipe at my stinging eyes. “Tell them I love them, too.”
“Mom’s still here for you, you know. If you’re really in trouble, I’m sure she’d send you money if you needed it.”
I shift as my chest tightens. “I might be a selfish jerk, but even I realize how shitty that would be. I’ve only talked to Mom twice in the last five years.” I glance at the driver, suddenly aware he can hear everything I say. We lock eyes through the rearview. I scowl. He looks away and I lower my voice. “I will not be that person who finally calls her because I need something.”
“I get that. In fact, I respect that, and I don’t respect much of what you do, so, take that for what it is.” Colton laughs to take the sting out of his statement. “I’ve got some money set aside. If you need help…”
“Thank you for that. Really. But, I got myself into this situation. I’ll get myself out of it.” I draw a finger down the window. “Did Dad say anything?”
I regret the question as soon as the words leave my lips. Whatever the answer is, I’m not equipped to handle it. Not on my best days, and certainly not on a day like today. There aren’t enough pills in the world to smudge the pain I feel when I think of my father.
Colton clears his throat. “No, Sarah. He didn’t. I’m sorry.”
“No, no. It’s okay. It is what it is. It might have been too much to handle if he had, you know?” I force a laugh. The cabbie pulls to a stop in front of my hotel and I pinch the phone between my ear and shoulder while I pay him. “Thanks for letting me vent,” I say to Colton as I scramble out of the car and onto the sidewalk.
“Any time, sister. Really. I’m here for you.”
I pause in front of my hotel, sucking in air and swallowing back tears. “Thank you,” I murmur before ending the call. “I love you,” I whisper to the dark screen.
The trip to my room is an exercise in control.
One step.
Then another.
And another.
Keep moving through the building. Head up, chin lifted, face stoic. Don’t let them see the swirl of panic in my belly. Don’t let them see the deluge of tears behind my eyes.
Don’t let them see me fall apart.
The moment the door swings shut behind me, I fall to pieces, shaking and quaking on the bed, the cheap comforter scratching my cheek.
“You’re okay,” I whisper. “You’re okay.”
But I’m not.
I’m stuck here and I’m running out of money. I need to move out of this hotel and into one I can afford—just thinking about the pictures I saw online makes me cringe. I applied for a job I may not be qualified for and I’m definitely not equipped to handle. My car is in the shop. I spent two hours in an elevator, terrified I might fall to my death, while staring at the one man I’ve ever spent an evening with who didn’t take me home, fuck me, and disappear.
The one man I’ve ever wanted to see again.
And again.
And again.
And with all that on my plate, all the heavy emotions pressing down on my shoulders and spinning in my stomach, with the aching hole of fear throbbing in my chest, I decided to ask Colton about Dad.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Do I like feeling this way? Why do I keep making choices that only make things worse?
Lungs burning, eyes throbbing, body quaking, I push myself into a sitting position. Grab my purse. Fumble with my prescription bottle. And swallow another pill.