Chapter 22 Breathe
Breathe
Maisie
My heart is beating so fast, it feels like it might pop out of my chest, and simultaneously like an elephant is crushing my ribs.
I’m having a panic attack. It’s far from my first one, but it is particularly bad.
My breathing is labored, and the lack of oxygen has my head spinning and vision blurring.
Between that and the knots painfully twisting my stomach, crying isn’t even an option right now.
We’re back in the apartment, thank goodness. I’m curled on our futon. Angie placed a blanket on top of me but now doesn’t seem to know what to do, and I can’t instruct her in my current state.
“Water. I’ll get you some water,” she announces, more to herself than to me.
I’m sweating, and I feel disconnected from my own body. I wish I could tell Angie to get this blanket off me.
A knock raps at the door. Angie startles, but rushes over to see who it is.
“Oh, Connor, right, the food,” I hear her say.
I close my eyes and try to focus on breathing. I hear something being set on the ground, and next thing I know, I feel a large hand on my forehead, followed by Connor’s deep voice: “She’s burning up. Let’s get this blanket off her.”
The relief is immediate, but I can’t open my eyes yet.
“Maize. I’m here. You’re doing so great. I’m gonna move you so that I can hold you, okay?”
I nod, really not sure of what would be best at the moment.
He lifts and adjusts me like I weigh nothing, so I’m folded over his lap, curled toward his chest as he sits. His arms are wrapped protectively around me, and he moves one hand to put pressure on my sternum, gently moving it from side to side.
“I know today was really hard. It’s okay that your body is reacting this way, but I know it’s no fun.
” A tear sneaks out of me. “I want you to try to breathe with me. I’m going to count everything for us, ready?
” I don’t reply, but he starts: “Inhale, one, two, three, four.” He demonstrates by pulling air through his nostrils.
I copy as best I can. “Good, hold it for me.” Another four count.
“Now release. Push it out through your mouth. Good.” He counts to four out loud for me as I exhale.
After following that pattern for several more minutes, my body slowly regains some semblance of control. Connor continues to gently coach me while showering me with reassurances in his soothing voice. No one other than Lauren has ever helped me through one of my panic attacks before.
I can tell I need to cry more, but the exhaustion is weighing too heavy. Sleep will need to come first.
Connor, sensing what I need, shifts so he can lift me to my bed. He sets me down gingerly, adjusting the pillows and comforter until I’m comfortable. “You’re going to be okay, Betty. You can rest for now. I won’t go anywhere.”
Feeling a strong sense of comfort at Connor’s presence, I close my eyes and drift off to sleep.
Connor
I had been worried about Maisie when we parted at the natatorium, but I didn’t expect to find her in such a rough state when I got to her place. It broke my heart to see her struggling so much. Panic attacks can be awful.
“How did you know what to do?” Angie whispers as I shift to sit on the futon.
My mind wanders back to one night after my dad left. I overheard Mom in her room. It sounded like something was seriously wrong, so I went to investigate. When she didn’t respond after I knocked on her door, I decided to just go in.
She was curled up in a ball on the bedroom floor, clutching her chest and shaking.
I nearly knocked over the hamper trying to get to her.
She was breathing, but it was shallow. I was so panicked, but managed to call for Oliver—my older brother, closest to me in age—knowing he was home.
When he came rushing in, his eyes widened in panic, but he called 911.
When the paramedics arrived, I went with her in the ambulance and told Oliver to wait there with Liam, our youngest brother, who was only eleven at the time.
After a full examination in the ER, it was determined that her heart was fine, and she simply had a panic attack.
Simple wasn’t really the way to describe it, though.
She took the medicine the doctors prescribed and had a pretty good handle on it most of the time, but sometimes one would slip through. When that happened, I’d sit with her and hold her through it. Sometimes I worry about what she does now that I’m not living at home.
“My mom has panic attacks,” is what I say out loud.
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, but glad you knew what to do. I had no idea how to help,” Angie says.
“It’s okay. It's different for everyone, but in general, staying calm, giving them reassurance, and asking what you can do to help is a good start.”
“Thanks. I’ll remember that for next time.” Her eyes squint in concern as they move over Maisie’s form lying in her bed. “Well, hopefully there isn’t a next time.”
“Hopefully,” I offer.
We sit in companionable silence for a while.
Angie reclines in her desk chair, watching videos on her phone with the sound off, so I close my eyes and lean back on the futon.
But I don’t sleep. I just check in with my own body and do a few breathing exercises of my own—ones Mom’s doctors had taught us.
When I sit back up, I turn to Angie and whisper, “It’s okay if you want to leave.
I promise to stay until she wakes up. It honestly might be better to have fewer people here when she does.
Not that I’m kicking you out or anything, of course.
” I punctuate my statement with my hands up, facing toward her, so she knows I’m not trying to order her around or something.
“No, yeah, you’re right. It’s totally fine.
Evie had texted earlier saying there was a party at Swim House tonight to celebrate today’s win.
I wasn’t planning to go because obviously I wasn’t going to leave Maisie, but if you think it’s better for just you to be here…
” She drops off to indicate the question.
“Yeah, go. We’ll be fine here. We have food, and I’ll make sure she has whatever else she needs.”
“Okay, but text me when she wakes up, please? And also, I’ll come home in a heartbeat if that’s what she wants.
I won’t even have a drink. Maisie is my top priority.
Promise you’ll keep me in the loop.” She points a stern finger in my face.
It wasn’t a question, but I have no problem with that.
I appreciate how fiercely Angie loves Maisie.
“You have my word,” I whisper, making an “x” motion over my heart.
“Okay, good,” she says, dropping her finger and moving as silently as she can to grab her bag before making her way to the door. She looks at Maisie one last time before she fully slips out, barely making a sound.
About twenty minutes later, Maisie stirs.