It’s maddening.
A gate opens, and the emotions of that night unleash and surround me, suffocating me. The scenery around me swirls, and I can’t breathe. My ribs seem to collapse on themselves, one by one, like taut strings snapping, as the intercostal muscles contract and contract.
I gasp for air, but it won’t come. I hear a roaring noise in my ears, and I’m on my knees and all I can see is Artie. She’s in my face and she’s whining...and I think I might be dying. My heart slams hard harder harder, and my lungs explode.
Then cool hands are on my shoulders, and someone says my name, but the lights are exploding around me, like fireworks.
“Corinne.”
I open my eyes and it’s Lucy, and she’s calm, and she’s rubbing my back. Her hands are cool.
“Breathe. Count to ten.”
She doesn’t ask what the issue is. She’s just very no-nonsense. The nurse in her acts swiftly, and my face is buried in her bulky sweater.
I suck in air, letting it out.
I suck it in again, then let it out.
It’s minutes before I can breathe, before I can relax.
Minutes more before I can even process what happened.
“I’m sorry,” I finally say weakly, and I’m so humiliated.
Lucy stares at me, her pretty face serious.
“Why are you sorry?” she asks. “It’s a panic attack. People have them. I’m going to go get you some water.”
I nod, and I close my eyes, and I hear Artie growling.
“She won’t hurt you,” I call out. “She’s just old and grumpy.”
“Okay!”
Lucy comes back within a minute, putting a cool glass in my hand. “Drink.”
I put the liquid to my lips and something something something still doesn’t feel right.
“I don’t know what came over me,” I say. I don’t know what else to say.
“It happens,” Lucy says casually. “Don’t feel self-conscious. Lord knows, you’re under enough stress at the hospital.”
I nod, like that’s the reason. No one has to know any different.
“Don’t tell anyone, okay?” I say hesitantly. “Please.”
Lucy rolls her eyes. “I would never. You know that.”
“Thank you. Not even Jude.”
She rolls her eyes again. “I still have yet to meet that husband of yours in person. And it’s not like I’m going to tattle on you over the phone.”
“Okay.” I nod, relieved. “Thank you.”
“Do you want to ride with me to work?”
She’s still concerned, and it’s sweet. But I shake my head. “No. By the time I shower and stuff, I’ll be fine. But thank you anyway. We’ll have to take care of my talons another day.”
“You’ll do anything to escape pampering yourself.” Lucy shakes her head as she puts the bottles away. “I swear. Just don’t blame me when the patients start complaining.”
I smile. “I would never.”
“See that you don’t.” She tries to be gruff, but she doesn’t fool me. She’s concerned.
“See you at work, Luce.”
She hugs me. “You’ve got to take better care of yourself. Expect me to start nagging you about it.”
“I would expect nothing less.”
She leaves, and I’m alone, and I stare out the window, trying to suppress the fear that is bubbling up in me, gurgling to the surface like bubbles in the water.
Am I going crazy like my father?
Is this how it started for him? Irrational panic, and memories that he couldn’t explain?
With a gulp, I shove the troubling thoughts away and head for the shower.
*
At work, I focus on not worrying about the panic.
I have to compartmentalize. I have to do that to stay calm. It’s never been a problem before, even after the murders so long ago. In fact, that’s when I learned the skill. Every day, at school, I weathered the taunts that came from being a killer’s kid, and I was brave and defiant. But at night, in the dark, alone, I’d curled up in a ball and succumbed to fear. That was fine for me. As long as no one saw me break down, I could pretend that I was fine.
It’s a skill I utilize to this day.
I can do this.
I can be brave, defiant Corinne.
The nurses’ station is empty as I grab an orange and peel it, and I sit for a few seconds to rest my feet, checking over my shoulder for Lucy. She’s checked on me no less than four times in four hours, making sure I’m fine. It’s starting to feel a bit smothering, even though I know she means well.
I take this moment of downtime to check my phone, and a text from my husband makes my heart flutter, and I smile.
I love you today. You’re beautiful.
“Hey, what’s funny? I want to laugh, too.” My colleague collapses into the chair next to mine, exhaling deeply as he drops his head straight back against the headrest. He stares at me from beneath half-closed eyes. “Well?”
I smile. “Nothing’s funny. I was just thinking about Jude.”
Brock raises an eyebrow. “Good thoughts?”
“Obviously, Einstein. I was smiling.”
He lifts a shoulder. “True. Don’t judge me. I had three hours of sleep last night. I’m slow on the uptake.”
He grabs a coffee cup and gulps it, filling up for seconds.
“Where’s Lucy? I might get her to hook me up for a caffeine drip.”
I roll my eyes and grab a chart, trying to keep on top of my notes. It’s a never-ending task, and the charts end up in a mountain on the nurses’ station by the end of the day.
“If she agrees to that, tell me. I’ll want one, too.” I rub at my neck while I write. “Also, I’ll pay you fifty bucks to do my charting.”
“Ha. No.”
“You don’t even want to think about it?” I look imploringly at him.
He shakes his head. “Nope.”
“You’re not even sorry.”
“Nope.”
“You’re heartless.”
“No, I’m not. In fact, here.” Brock gets up and stands behind me, gripping my shoulders. He massages, and as he does, the tension leaves my neck in waves and I groan.
“Sweet baby Jesus, that feels good.”
“Yeah, I hear that a lot.”
He snickers and I ignore it. I don’t even care about boyish sexual innuendo. This feels too good. “Don’t stop.”
“Yeah, I get that a lot, too.”
“You’re a child.”
He agrees. “A child with magic hands.”
“Let me guess. You hear that a lot, too?”
“Now you’re getting it.” He rubs up and down my spine with his fists, and when he’s done, I’m almost a pile of goo in the chair.
I close my eyes, and when I open them, I notice two nurses staring at the two of us, whispering.
“Great. Now we’re part of their rumor fodder,” I say ruefully. “You’d think they’d be too busy for that crap.”
They have the grace to look away, but I can feel them whispering long after they walk away. Fantastic.
“Oh, you know how they are,” Brock says easily. “They’re easily entertained. They were buzzing for days after that chick came in last week with the shower massager stuck inside her. But seriously, they had a point. Who does that?”
I don’t know. I don’t care. People never cease to amaze me.
“Did you know that Dr. Fields is screwing around with Gabby?”
I stare at him. “Eeew. Gabby is so sweet and Fields is so...eew. And he’s on his honeymoon. He just got married. Are you sure?”
I’m indignant on his new wife’s behalf, and Brock nods in affirmation.
“Very sure. I got it firsthand from Sara. She was working a double and caught them in the supply closet.”
“Gross. What a slime.”
“Yep,” Brock agrees. “Men are dogs. They can’t keep their dicks in their pants.”
He says this so cheerfully, even though he himself is in possession of a penis.
“Jude can,” I tell him as I return my attention to my chart. “He’s got faults, but being unfaithful isn’t one of them.”
“As gorgeous as he is?” Brock’s question seems weird, coming from another man. “You don’t ever worry?”
I pause, looking up at him. “Do you have the hots for my husband, Romeo?”
He laughs quickly, turning red. “No. Of course not.”
“And no. I don’t ever worry.” I finish up my chart, proud of myself that it took one minute flat. It’s a new record for me. “He never gives me a reason.”
Speaking of my husband... I pull my phone out of my purse and start to text him.