Chapter 3
Evie
Needless to say, every parent after August Von felt like a cake walk.
I always try to remind myself, “It’s only a bad five minutes, not a bad day,” and while it was actually forty-five seemingly bad minutes, they magically spread themselves out throughout the entire day.
I can’t shake the frustration of meeting with August, even though every meeting after was a breeze.
He’s so incorrigible, but I simply can’t stop thinking about him–the confident way he commands a room, and strangely enough, his hands.
Then you kind of start questioning your sanity.
He also has eyes I want to get entirely lost in.
They’re the richest, deepest green color, an absolute forest I want to run through.
And when he speaks, you want to listen. He’s so sure of himself and while his tone can sometimes be gruff, you can tell there’s a sincerity behind it. Way far behind it, but still there.
“Heading out for the day, Ms. Jake?” Mrs. Johnston pulls me out of my daydream and I pray she doesn’t notice the flush on my cheeks from being caught thinking about my student’s dad.
I mean, obviously I’m heading out. It’s past the time we’re technically paid, and my conferences are over.
I’ve given the day my best, so yes, I’m going home to stew about the man who threw off my equilibrium for the entire day.
Even knowing all of that, her question always makes me feel so guilty, like I have no right to a life outside of my classroom.
“I am.” I answer cheerfully. “My conferences went great and I left all of my notes in my mailbox in the office earlier today.” Why do I feel the need to justify myself to her?
“Great, well, enjoy your evening.” She responds while heading to the next classroom.
“You too.” I walk as quickly but as casually as possible to my car.
The drive to my small cottage on the lake is short and quintessential.
Our little town is a perfect postcard and a huge tourist spot in the summer.
I pull down my gravel driveway and head for my cozy home, excited to change and relax for the evening.
I lock my car even though I live in probably the safest town in America.
I head for my robin’s egg blue front door when I hear tiny little scratches coming from the inside.
Peeping my head through the little half window, I see a tiny tail wag waiting for me to open the door.
My sweet, dapple dachshund, Maple, greets me with all of the love and licks.
As is our ritual, I snatch Maple up in my arms, let her lick kisses all over my face then I lock the door, drop my keys in the bowl, and head to the kitchen.
“Time to put you down, sweet girl.” Maple races to the couch and spins multiple times before settling into her comfy spot.
I grab one of my meal prepped containers from the fridge, a pan, and some oil, and warm up my dinner, all the while wondering what gourmet meal Adeline’s dad is making for her tonight.
Kicking off my oxfords and setting them back by the door, I pad to my room and quickly change into some sweats and a cropped cotton tank top.
Maple coaxes me to the couch after I’m done with my dinner and I flip restlessly through streaming options.
My brain feels fried but my body wants to move.
I glance over at my mirrorless camera and for a slight moment, I feel like I might pick it up again.
Most of the time, I’m okay taking the occasional professional photo of Maple until I look at the picture on the back and the panic attacks set in.
The memory that causes chills, sweaty palms, and the tingly pins all over my hands and arms is enough to snap me out of that consideration and take a deep breath.
Inhale. Count to five. Exhale. You are safe.
You are out. I chant to myself. I see a TV, a lamp, and the kitchen.
I’m sitting on the couch. Only Maple is in the house with me.
This grounding starts to unravel the constrictions wrapped around my chest. I’ve learned to work through my panic attacks and anxiety, but they’re still so mentally draining and I have almost no control over them.
Even the thought of them makes my chest feel tight and sometimes I just can’t get that deep breath to pull through.
But now I’m exhausted. Off to bed we go even though it’s way too early.
Shutting off the TV and stowing my camera out of sight, Maple joins me on our walk to the bedroom. I go through a full skin care routine and brush my teeth before I pull back the comforter.
Maple takes that as her invitation to jump to her far side of the king bed, above the blankets, while I slide in after.
Maple is snoozing away within moments while I’m left staring at the ceiling, attempting to let the entire day dump out of my brain.
August was enough to set me on edge, but the panic of picking up my camera was the cherry on top of a restless night.