It’s been two hours since I sent the text for Clarissa to meet me. I chose the spot we’ve favored for our picnic lunches. The park always gave us ample things to watch and talk about, with one of our favorite times being when we’d watched a father teaching his daughter how to wolf whistle from a YouTube video, but he was about as bad at it as she was. So, I went to meet them, and after a hilarious ten minutes, all three of us were whistling like old pros. I’d learned a lot about myself when it comes to teaching, and the father and daughter left, both having learned a new skill. I’d come back to see Clarissa with a smile on her face, watching intently, although she’d pretended to be focusing on her phone.
It had been hard not to think about her watching me and wondering how I’d be as a father. Not that that was a concept we had even come anywhere close to talking about.
But it had stayed with me.
And sometimes, when I was having a particularly rough day at work, I would imagine the softness in her eyes, the way she’d looked at me when she thought I wasn’t looking.
Now here we are, her hating me for not believing her. And me, saturated in guilt over how I’d treated her. Wondering if she would ever forgive me. And knowing I can’t blame her if she doesn’t.
Two hours and fifteen minutes.
Soon, it’s going to be too late for her to leave the club. She has only missed a handful of times to open the club, and most of those involved me.
Her work ethic never ceases to amaze me.
How she has transformed from having every last thing handed to her on a silver platter, to now making sacrifices so that her staff are taken care of.
Fucking Terry.
He talked about loving her, but he never knew her at all. Clarissa didn’t need to be forced to learn how to take care of herself.
She is strong, capable, a hard worker and kind in her own subtle way. Creative and resourceful. All the things he thought she never was because he forced her into a life that made her believe she wasn’t good enough.
But she was better than all of us all along.
Better than me most of all.
Fuck.
What have I done?
She’s not coming.
She’s not coming, and it’s all my fault.
Brushing the dirt from the back of my pants, the hopelessness sinks my stomach. My fist meets the tree trunk, sending a sharp pain up my arm, making me forget for just a moment.
I need more.
Alcohol isn’t doing it anymore.
But I can’t keep feeling like this.
It’s going to rot my soul away.
As if it matters that I have one without her.
I wave a cab down. “Teterboro Airport. As fast as you can, man!”
Don’t be stupid, Matthias. Don’t be stupid. It’ll pass, I try to tell myself.
The cab turns into traffic just as my phone buzzes. Something at the last moment compels me to check it even though I have no need for contact with anyone but her.
The text, it’s from her.
Relief floods my body.
She’s coming. Something held her up, that’s all.
I open the text.
Clarissa: “Anxiety attack. At the club. Please.” No. No, no, no, no. Not an anxiety attack…
Heart thick in my mouth, I jump out of the cab, anyway. It’s barely half a mile. I’ll be there soon, darling. My lungs expand and squeeze, sending oxygen around my body as I run. Shit. I didn’t even reply. She doesn’t even know I’m on my way.
I can’t waste the time. It’s going to stop now.
One more block away.
I’ll be there in a minute, darling. Just breathe.
The front entrance is locked when I get there. I race around the building until I get to the back entrance.
“Matthias!” James shouts. “She’s upstairs. She wouldn’t come down.” I sprint up the stairs, legs burning with each step.
She’s on her knees in the middle of the room, clutching at her chest as Clementine kneels next to her, rubbing her back.
“Get me a glass of water, now!” I yell, falling onto the ground next to her. “I’m here, Rissie. I’m here.”
The looks she gives me is pained, but she doesn’t push me away. Instead, her eyes beg me for help.
“I’m here, okay. You’re going to be okay. We’re going to get through this. On three, we’re just going to take a little breath, okay?” I grab her hand and squeeze it, grounding her in that action. “One, two, three. Breathe, darling.”
She takes a little breath, and then it shoots out of her almost immediately.
“Good, Clarissa. We’re going to take it nice and slow. One more. Ready?” I drag the air into my breath, and she does the same, her face still panicked. “And out.” The air is forced out of my body with a whoosh. “One more, in. And out.”
She copies, with each repetition, it becomes a little easier.
I settle on the floor, rubbing her back. “The park was so crowded today, and I saw a few kids using those skipping ropes they hung up.” I talk, talk to distract her, get her brain to focus on something other than the desire to flee. “One more breath. In, hold it, and out. Good.” I talk.
I talk for ten minutes while reminding her to breathe.
I tell her about Damien and My-Linh traveling around the U. S., instead of their original honeymoon plans. And how My-Linh volunteered Damien as an audience member for the show when they went to Disney, and there’s a picture of Damien wearing some sort of cloak, apparently at the was the moment when he was going to commit. And then there’s another picture of him smiling into the camera, because My-Linh is standing next to him.
I tell her about how Hannah went on a date the other day, and came to work in the same clothes that she was wearing the day before.
I tell her about getting some pictures from the owners of the ranch, and how they are willing to discuss selling. But I don’t tell her, that I can’t bear to buy it, if she’s not going to go there with me.
That she’s the reason I went there the first time. And I won’t go back unless she’s by my side.
She listens.
Zoning in and out as she fights with her brain. But soon, she focuses for ten, fifteen seconds at a time. She even nods at once point. Her eyes losing the erratic way they flick back and forth, her hands no longer white-knuckled.
When she breathes on her own, I scan her body, making sure that there are no other injuries. Sometimes when the attack comes on unexpectedly, she inadvertently hurts herself.
“And Leanne finally told me who it was she’s seeing. You’re not going to believe it. It’s with the older guy who lives on the second floor! Little wench. How’s she going to bring home other guys now?”
A little smile tickles on the corners of her mouth. “Funny.”
My heart soars at her first word since I arrive. “Yeah.” I give her hand another squeeze before laying it gently on her leg. “Alright?”
“I think so.” She takes a deep breath and inspects her hands, like she just realized they were attached to her.