She Dims the Stars (14 page)

Cline takes his sweet-ass time doing absolutely nothing on the boat until he doesn’t have anything else he can’t
not
do anymore, and he’s forced to get off. He’s still not making eye contact with me, but that’s his problem. It’s not the first time I’ve experienced one of his tantrums. It’s just the first time one’s been directed at me.

“Exactly how long are you going to give me the Somers Silent Treatment?” I ask, keeping his pace up the trail.

He grunts instead of answering.

“You’re still stuck in the car with us for at least another week. You know that, right?”

“Funny you should mention that. September said she could make a detour through Tennessee on her way back home. I figure since this trip is turning more into the Audrey and Elliot Show, I could just hitch a ride back with her. Leave you two to whatever it is that you’re doing.”

We’ve come to a clearing and can see the jumping point where the girls are standing. Audrey is crouched down, hugging her knees, and September is leaning over her, rubbing her back. My first instinct is to run to her, but I stay firmly in place, watching this other person talk to Audrey and calm her down. She’s clearly freaking out about jumping.

Cline crosses his arms and sighs. “This is such a shit show, Elliot. Why are you involving yourself in this?”

“Why are you running away from it? You two haven’t even talked …
really
talked yet. And now you’re just going to get into the car with someone else and give up? Go back?”

“She’s got problems, man. You can’t fix them. I can’t fix them. We don’t even know what they are. But look at her. She can’t even do the thing she came to do. This is nothing but a waste of time and …”

Silence follows as we both watch in awe as September leads Audrey to the edge of the cliff and holds her hand. She looks her in the eye, giving Audrey her undivided attention, and Audrey nods as if agreeing while looking down into the water thirty feet below. It’s a huge drop, and I don’t blame her one bit for the apprehension. September points to the water and then presses a finger to Audrey’s forehead. I wish I could hear what’s being said, but of all the things we’ve done on this trip, this seems like the most private thing I’ve been witness to.

September takes a step back, and I watch with my hands balled into fists as Audrey steps all the way to the edge of rock and extends her arms to her sides. She looks up to the sky once and then, for a split second before she moves, she looks over her shoulder to where we are standing, and I swear I can see her smile. The next instant, she is airborne, free falling headfirst into the water below, slicing the surface and going under, leaving nothing but a white ring of water in her wake.

There’s a scream of excitement from September and then from Audrey as she resurfaces, taking in air and shrieking that she did it. Her arms are raised above her head, and she’s telling all of us to come on, asking us what we’re waiting for.

Cline turns to look at me, his face pale and eyes wide with shock. “What the hell did I just see?”

I clap a hand on his shoulder as I go to pass him. “You just saw Byrdie fly.”

I feel invincible. I am invincible. That’s a terrifying way for someone to feel when they’ve felt like nothing for so long.

September is smiling at me from across the table in the little restaurant where we’ve decided to get lunch. The guys are playing video games in the back room of the pizza joint while we wait on our order, and I’m sipping some water, just trying to get hold of the rush of emotions I’ve been through in such a short amount of time.

“When were you diagnosed?” she asks. There’s no malice or judgment in her question.

I look around to make sure Elliot and Cline aren’t within earshot before I answer. “Fifteen. Some stuff feels like it’s gotten better, but recently …”

“Obviously I’m not trying to give you any advice or treatment. I’m not a doctor. Yet.” She smiles, and it’s so genuine. “Are you seeing someone, though?”

“Yeah.” The condensation on my glass has suddenly become very interesting.

“I know we’ve just met and whatever, but if you feel like you ever need to talk about stuff, and you can’t with either of those two,” she points to the game room, “I’m more than happy to be a listening ear. What you did today was huge. I don’t even know your deal, and I can tell that it was a giant step for whatever it is that you’re going through. And you should be proud of that.”

“Well, maybe one day I’ll tell you why it was such a big deal. Because you’re right. It was. It
is
a huge deal. We only have a couple more places to go before this trip is over, and once we’re done, I don’t think Cline will ever speak to me again. And if Elliot finds out the truth about me … about everything … I have no idea if he’ll stick around either. So you may just be the only one left to call.” The idea strikes me suddenly even as I say it out loud. This is why I don’t get involved with anyone. This is why I don’t open up to people. It’s all on the surface so no one gets hurt. Especially me. But I chose Elliot. I sought him out. I still can’t figure out why.

Her head is tilted in thought. “I don’t think there’s anything short of telling Elliot that you’re a murderer that would make him walk away from you. Even then, I’d bet he would try to find evidence against it. Have you seen the way he looks at you?”

“No,” I lie and cross my legs as the memory of his touch from earlier in the day resurfaces.

“Then maybe you should open your eyes a little more,” she says quietly and takes a sip of her drink before the pizza we ordered is placed on the table.

Elliot is sitting in the back of the car again, laptop plugged in as he tries to work on his game. A familiar tug of responsibility settles in my gut, and I chastise myself for possibly costing him this opportunity.

“Is there anything I can do to help you with this?” I ask, peering around to look at his screen.

A webpage disappears, and his work comes back up quickly with a click of his fingers. He blinks a few times and smiles at me with a shake of his head. “I’m good. It’s boring.”

“What were you looking at?” I ask, climbing into the back of the car next to him.

“Stuff for the project. How To’s and things like that. I don’t have my degree yet, you know. I’m still a novice.”

“A How To on what?” I don’t think Elliot’s lied to me before, and now I know he’s very bad at it.

“How to …” he stalls, and I can almost see his brain firing all cylinders to try and come up with something, “make realistic sand.”

“Bullshit. I’ve seen your realistic sand. What were you looking at? Is it porn or something? Let me see!” I’m practically crawling over him to get to the laptop and switch screens so I can see what he’s trying so desperately to hide from me.

“Seriously, it’s nothing! Come on, Audrey, don’t mess with the laptop …”

He doesn’t fight hard, though, and I’m too fast. In an instant I wish I hadn’t asked.

SIX TYPES OF ANXIETY ATTACKS

My eyes scan the article and I can feel my throat tightening.

Rage and irritability

Obsessive behavior

Stuttering

Silence

Zoning out

Hyperventilating/rocking back and forth

The pressure on my chest is growing heavier with each second, and I’m trying to fight it off, but I know when it’s too late. This is one of those times.

“You could have asked,” I whisper before I scramble to get out of the car and walk as fast as I can to the tent. I know exactly where I’m going and what I’m getting, and as soon as I have it, I am back out and into the night, walking off into the woods. I need a tree. I need a safe space. A place away from anyone and everyone else where it can happen, and I can let it overtake me until it’s over and then I can move on.

The Klonopin won’t kick in immediately, but at least I have that hope to hold onto as I stumble into the woods and away from the voices of the people I know. I’m walking blindly into the darkness, trying to get away from any and all light that isn’t the moon, so I can’t be seen. The only sounds around me are the cicadas, the water from the lake to my left, and my own erratic breathing.

It’s getting harder to see, because the tears are building and blinding me, and my throat is so constricted I can hardly get a full breath in through my mouth. But if I try to breathe through my nose, I feel like I’m choking. There’s a huge tree right in front of me, and I lean against it, my arms straight and legs extended, face pointed down at the ground as I try to breathe just one full breath.

But it’s not coming.

The sounds coming out of my mouth would make any passerby believe I was having an asthma attack and needing an inhaler. The shaking in my hands and arms give way to numbness in my digits, and my face begins to tingle, lips losing feeling while I gasp for a single lungful of oxygen.

The world is collapsing around me, and I am alive and awake to see it all happening, but there’s nothing I can do about it. Tears flow faster, and my heart beats wildly until I slide to my knees and press my face between them and begin to count silently, hoping that maybe by the time I reach ten I’ll have some control.

I reach three hundred and feel a warm hand on my back. I reach three hundred and fifty when I hear September’s voice. I reach four hundred when Cline picks me up and carries me back to the tent.

I lose count when Elliot wraps his body around mine in the sleeping bag and whispers that he’s sorry while pushing my sweaty hair from my forehead.

His touch is what allows that first real burst of air into my lungs, and I pull it in with such force I almost choke on it, wheezing and gasping as I inhale and cry through the exhale. But he holds me through it until the pain in my chest begins to loosen. Until the tightness in my throat lessens, and I can swallow and speak. Until the vice around my head unclenches and the fuzzy gray patterns behind my eyelids give way to actual shapes again.

The campsite is quiet by the time my mind and body go into rest, and I hold Elliot’s hand to my chest as I fall into a dreamless sleep.