25. Chapter 25
Chapter 25
M y hands were shaking as I fumbled with my keys and managed to unlock and open the car door. I made a mental note to purchase a new battery for the keyless entry fob, which hadn’t worked for months. Once in the car, I stared at the dash and realized I was overdue for an oil change. Probably a car wash too, given the layer of dust on the dash, along with something sticky-looking in some parts.
By the time I absently buckled my seatbelt, my heart rate had slowed, and I was no longer shaking but very still. I could breathe.
I started driving, and I kept breathing. That was important.
I wasn’t really in my body, except to drive. And breathe.
Keep breathing.
When I entered my apartment minutes or hours later, I breathed.
Calmly placing my purse on the table, I slipped out of my shoes and purposefully walked to the couch.
I just needed to breathe—
But the spell was broken.
I was falling, falling down to the couch, falling into a deep, terrifying pit of feelings and thoughts. The shock, the humiliation, the betrayal, the absolute devastation—the disbelief that I could be so, so deluded. So stupid.
Lightheaded and overcome, I braced my hands on the couch. I clutched one of the armrests while my vision blurred. Was I having a panic attack or maybe dying? I wasn’t sure what either of those things felt like.
I crumpled back into the cushion, grabbing my Austen throw pillow and hugging it to my chest. I was both hot and cold, feeling both everything and nothing, at least nothing that I could identify.
Realizing what pillow I was holding, my knuckles whitened, and I saw the silhouette of Elizabeth and Darcy. As though scalded, I dropped the pillow on the floor and then kicked it several feet away.
Breathe. Just breathe.
And then the tears came, and that was all I had left. The cloudy and panicked feeling left me, abandoning me to this new feeling, which was so, so much worse. I collapsed on my side, utterly overcome by sadness.
No, not sadness. Agony, anguish even. I was being ripped apart from within.
I felt myself feel in ways I hadn’t in a long time, maybe ever. Pain I couldn’t handle, devastation that would swallow me whole. I’d rather be having a panic attack than feel this; I’d rather be angry or in shock than face this. Anything but this.
As I buried my tear-streaked face in my hands, curling into a ball on the couch, I thought vaguely that this was probably a long time coming. Years of therapy had helped me identify my tendency to do whatever is necessary to avoid having to feel crippling negative emotions, especially sadness or shame. It was useless to try this time.
The phone was ringing. I stumbled off the couch, looking around slowly as I became aware of my surroundings, lit only dimly by the setting sun. Had I been sleeping? I rubbed my eyes, sore from sobbing. Finally, I spotted my phone on the floor near the couch.
Before I could turn it off, I saw Lillian’s name and photo on the screen. I felt another twinge of guilt for not returning my sister’s messages, but this was definitely not the time to chat. Lillian wouldn’t understand. Probably no one could, but my perfect older sister definitely wouldn’t.
From the couch, I stared blankly in the direction of the TV, which was off.
As much as I wanted to hide from the world and drown in misery, I still had a strong urge to call a friend, to be soothed even, as ridiculous as it sounded even to myself.
Maybe Jenn could help. She wouldn’t judge, at least. She was good like that. But she was probably busy with her perfect little family.
I couldn’t bring myself to contact Jane, who was probably in the midst of reading my ridiculous story. Thankfully, Jane lived many miles away; I couldn’t imagine having to face her in person now. My new friend probably wouldn’t even be surprised by this turn of events, as the signs were all clearly pointing to this outcome. Why hadn’t I seen it myself? Or why had I refused to acknowledge what a wretched person he was, even to myself? Or had I known but not cared? I shook my head, which was starting to ache.
And then there was Jack. I bit my lip and quickly decided against calling him. He hadn’t exactly been a good confidant lately, at least with the Gregory stuff. Jack disliked Gregory and would never understand why I had even bothered with him. I couldn’t bear for Jack to see me this way, even though he had many times before. Somehow this time was different.
Oh, the humiliation , I thought, burying my face in my hands for the hundredth time that day. Definitely not calling Jack .