Chapter 20
Murphy
Walking up to the checkout counter at my favorite Thai place usually brought me a sense of euphoria, knowing I was about to eat the best Pad Thai chicken.
A tingling sensation that caused a weird mental awareness of something started to prickle at me.
Odette is close. Don’t ask me how I knew, but I would always know when she was around.
It was then that I saw her walk in, holding his hand, and her gaze was firmly stuck on where their hands were joined.
They followed the hostess to the back booth, and he took her coat off before she sat, and I felt like a hand was crushing my heart.
He looked at her, taking her hand again while they looked over the menus, and she’s laughing.
Walk away. This is what you deserve.
It felt like my heart was going through a meat grinder, and I was leaving pieces of it behind in the restaurant. They handed me my food, and I grabbed it, knowing it would be going into the trash the second I got home.
Walk away. This is what you deserve.
I started toward the exit with one glance over my shoulder, finding her attention was still firmly on him. I felt like the walls were closing in on me. Can you feel me dying from here?
Walk away. This is what you deserve.
I made it to my car before the panic attack started. She’s happy without me. Can you feel me dying here?
Walk away. This is what you deserve.
I haven’t had a panic attack this bad since that night— the night I banged on Wynn’s door, the night I knew my marriage was over.
“You called my dad?”
“Act like a child, get treated like one.”
The memory of Wynn’s voice was so real, it felt like she was standing next to me, and it felt like I was back there instead of reliving that night inside my mind.
“Son, get in the car,” my dad barked out.
“I…”
“Get in the car, now,” he yelled, and my dad never yelled.
I climbed into the car, and he threw the car into reverse, his knuckles white with how hard he was gripping the wheel.
“They think I should sign the papers. Can you believe that? I can’t do that. I love her.”
The car went from going a cool fifty-five to veering off at the next exit and whipping into the gas station that was an exit away from my parents’ house.
“Are you seriously asking me if I can believe that your wife wants a divorce after you cheated on her? Are you really that fucking selfish, Murphy? Tell me you aren’t. Tell me this person sitting in front of me isn’t who I raised.”
“She won’t even let me explain. She’s giving up on us.”
My dad leaned over the seat and grabbed my collar and got in my face.
“You gave up, Murphy! You gave up. You became this asshole who no one recognizes. The only thing you can do is sign the papers!” I don’t think my father had ever yelled at me before tonight, and I just looked at him with my mouth open.
“You want her to leave me?”
“I want her to leave the person you’ve become. I want my son back, not whoever the fuck this is.”
I couldn’t breathe. The four doors of the car were closing in on me. She was going to leave me. It was over, it was over.
“Murphy? Murphy!” My dad’s voice sounded far away, but I could see his face right in front of mine, trying to bring me back to the current situation. But I didn’t want to be here; I wanted to be where she was. Why did I do what I did? Why did I give it all up? Who was I?
Dad must have grabbed a water bottle he had in the car because one second, I was lost to my thoughts, floating in a sea of pain and regret, and the next, I was looking at my dad, sputtering wet with a gaping hole in my chest where my heart used to be.
The following morning, I signed the papers, letting Odette go.
Sitting in my car, I did the exercise Dr. Rold had insisted I learn to bring myself out of my panic attacks if I should ever have one a bad one again.
Name three things you can feel: the leather of the car, the seatbelt on my thigh, my sock has a hole in it.
Name three things you can see: I see the clock on the dash reading 6:37 p.m., I see the takeout container turned upside down on the passenger side, I see the sun starting to set.
Feeling marginally better, I picked up my cell and dialed a number I knew by heart.
“Dr. Rold’s office, this is Norma speaking, how can I help you?”
“Hey, Norma, it’s Murphy Lake. I’d like to make an appointment for the next available opening.”
“Oh, dear.” Norma’s voice held a hint of concern. It had been a year or so since I needed to make an emergency appointment.
“Murphy, how does tomorrow at four work for you?”
“I’ll take it.”
“Take care, dear. See you tomorrow.”
I put the car into reverse and headed home.