The lack of its presence had me elated, but at the same time worried. Was it just delayed? Was I going to go into my room upstairs when it was all quiet, and that’s when it would pounce?
But no. I didn’t feel any of that. Some gut instinct within me told me that I wouldn’t be having another anxiety attack tonight.
As I got ready for bed, all I could do was think of why. Over the years, I’d learned of the things that triggered my attacks: Loud noises, stress, too many people I didn’t know in social situations, my mom turning into Scary Mom, and of course, seeing him…
Tonight, I’d seen Scary Mom and saw him, which were usually the causes of my worst attacks.
But here I was, brushing my teeth and feeling normal.
Then it hit me: It was because I helped my mother. I saw her as a human having a hard time, and her yelling was just her expelling her fear and pain. I knew it wasn’t directed at me; it was all for my dad.
And I was there for her. I got to be there for her.
When she came into the house, she seemed like she was possessed or something. If I wasn’t there to talk to her, who knows what she would have done…
I shuddered and refused to think about the possibilities.
As I drifted off to sleep, my mind tended to my fearful thoughts, as usual. It was like I was going through a garden in my mind, making sure to water all of the plants. Especially the ones that caused me the most pain. I had to make sure to nurture those…
I narrowed my eyes and cursed my own brain again.
But my last conscious thought was of Adam, and how safe he made me feel.
* * *
The next day, I rose early and opened my window, feeling the cool morning breeze caress my sleepy face.
One rebellious little voice in me had come to the surface: That I needed to get my shit together.
I spent the morning on my laptop, tracking which classes I needed to retake to graduate. When I left university, I was in my last semester of senior year with only four weeks left.
It pained me how I’d wasted so much time by putting my life on pause, but deep down I knew I needed to take care of myself.
I’d needed that break.
As I registered for classes, I felt a foreign feeling of accomplishment unfold within me.
I could do this. I could return to school, and ace all of my classes.
“Luke?” Echoed my mother’s voice from downstairs. “Luke honey, come down for breakfast!”
I made sure that Obey was tucked under my duvet, then paused.
I wasn’t going to hide who I really was. If my mother was going to find this, she could deal with asking me the questions.
With a quick motion of my hand, I uncovered Obey.
As I padded down the stairs, I caught sight of my mother bustling around the kitchen. She was dressed immaculately in a pressed pantsuit, makeup fully done, and her blonde hair was blown out into golden waves.
Her facade was firmly back in place.
“You must have gotten up early,” I commented as I joined her in the kitchen.
“I did; couldn’t sleep!” she said a little too cheerfully.
I raised an eyebrow. “Mom, are you okay?”
“Me? Okay?” she asked, as if this was the most ridiculous question in the world. “Of course I’m okay! I’ve just got a big meeting today, that’s all…” she chirped, sounding slightly unhinged. “We’re DuPonts, and even if we go through periods of adversity, the world keeps turning anyway. It’s up to us to decide if we’re going to walk or run.”
So this was what she was telling herself.
“Mom… I think you should maybe… I dunno, take a day off or something?”
“Can’t!” she nearly shrieked, “The people of this town need me!”
I gulped, suddenly losing my appetite.
She changed the subject. “What have you been up to today, Luke? I heard your footsteps in your room early-early.”
I narrowed my eyes at her, but thankful to be able to talk about moving my life in a positive direction. “Oh, I signed up for some classes that I need to finish—”
She slammed the skillet down on the stove and leaned over the counter with both hands, shaking.
“Mom?” I asked, the single syllable tingling in the air. “Mom?”
“You’re not going back,” she said in that same low, demented voice she’d used last night.
“What are you talking about? Of course I’m going back,” I said, confused.
“YOU CAN’T LEAVE ME TOO!” she shrieked, throwing a dinner plate in my direction. It shattered on the floor, the pieces sliding over the hardwood.
I jumped out of my chair and tried to scramble away. Dish after dish was hurled at me, punctuating her sobs.
As I ran out the front door, I had one singular thought that I was clinging to: Adam. I needed to call Adam.
12
Adam
I cracked my eyes open as the morning sun poured over my face. Groaning, I rotated under the covers, longing for sleep again.
If I was asleep, I didn’t have to think about how I’d screwed everything up with Luke last night. It was like the scenes of us together were on repeat in my mind: There I was, serving him ice cream.
The way he looked at my phone. The way his eyes narrowed.
I should have blocked Brian… avoided this whole mess…
But as soon as the thought entered my mind, I nestled back into my covers, descending into oblivion.
Then my phone buzzed.
I jerked awake, hoping there was a chance it was Luke and not some stupid work thing.
When my eyes locked on the screen and saw Luke’s name, I was wide awake immediately. Then my eyes scanned his text.
“Adam, I need you to come get me. Right now.”
Barely thinking, I got out of bed, pulled on some clothes, and drove my truck over to his place.
* * *
I didn’t even make it all the way to his house
