Twenty-Four #2
“I thought it would be better that way.”
“‘Better that way’?” I echo, disturbed. “Okay, so why did you think that?”
He sighs and rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Look, I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going on in my head. Maybe it’s better if—”
I raise a hand to stop him. I can’t bear to hear him say the thing I fear most in the world, that he has to break up with me.
“I don’t want to hear it,” I say, like a coward.
“I’m leaving now. And until you are at least willing to apologize to me, don’t try to find me.
” I walk away, secretly hoping that he’ll follow me and take me in his arms, but he doesn’t.
It’s the final blow after days of anxiety.
Angry and with a pounding headache, I head for the campus lawn.
This whole situation is going to drive me insane.
At first, I thought his breakdown was about losing his father.
But now I’m starting to think that I’m the issue.
He’s done everything he can to avoid me for days now, and I have no idea why.
I walk toward the redbrick building where Alex’s photography workshop is being held. He should be finishing up in a few minutes, and I really need to talk to someone. Now more than ever.
As soon as I see him emerge from the building, I grab him by the arm. “Hey, wanna go for a walk?”
“Hey, I didn’t see you there. What are you doing? Were you lying in wait for me?” he asks with a grin. I wish I had even a fragment of his good mood. “Where were you thinking about going?”
“Oh, nowhere in particular. We can just walk around here on campus. There’s that rain smell in the air; you know how much it chills me out,” I answer with a sad smile.
“Things with Thomas still going poorly, huh?” he asks me with his familiar sweetness.
I nod. “Yeah, but I’m not here to talk about him. It’s all I do lately, and I’ve realized I don’t know anything about your life anymore,” I say, desperate for a distraction. “Talk to me; how are things with Stella?”
“Good. She’s coming down next week for Thanksgiving, and after finals I’m going to her place in Vancouver so we can slip in a trip to New York as well.”
“Right, the trip! How long are you planning to stay?”
“If all goes well, I’ll come back right before the start of next semester in January.”
“What!?” I stop in my tracks and give him a shocked look. “That’s so long!”
“Not really, it’ll be a little over three weeks…” he says, downplaying it.
“Three weeks is decidedly too long!”
Alex chuckles. “What’s up with you? Are you afraid you’ll miss me?”
“Pfft, I can live without you. I’ve been doing it every summer for the last thirteen years, remember?”
“Sure, but you had time to prepare for that kind of separation. This is coming on you like a bolt from the blue. But never fear; my whole life is here, and I don’t plan to leave it for at least the next three years.
I want to give this thing with Stella a real shot, though. I feel like we could work out.”
I let out another lungful of air, realizing that I have no right to act like this. It’s just that, for a split second there, the idea of losing Alex too knocked me off balance.
“I’m sorry, you’re right. I’m actually really happy Stella’s coming here next week. You two seem great together.”
We sit down on a bench and chat through the lunch break.
Finally, in a fit of despondency, I tell him all the latest news.
I confide in him about the events of last night, saying that at least knowing that Thomas chose to lose himself in me this time rather than in a bottle gives me some sense of relief.
Alex listens to me without judgment and offers a few sage pieces of advice.
And I think it’s going to be really hard to face the holidays without him.
***
“…Nietzsche calls into question a human being’s faith, thus revolutionizing Western philosophical thought.”
It’s Thursday afternoon, and I’m in the library for my first tutoring session with Logan.
Last night, after my talk with Alex, I texted Logan and asked him if we could put our argument aside and just focus on studying.
We agreed on a few rules to start: I would help him, but anything about Thomas and me would remain out of bounds.
For the moment, he seems committed to keeping his word.
“Why did he question faith?” Logan asks.
“Because he sees Christianity as a conspiracy against the human being to inhibit his basic impulses. And in order to move on, to progress and become a population of übermensch—or, rather, free people without chains or restrictions—we need to destroy the certainties derived from religion, which holds men captive.”
“Destroy to create again?”
“Exactly. His philosophy is somewhat based on that concept: Destroy a house and build a palace. Destroy a wreath, make a crown, et cetera,” I explain, nervously brushing my hair over one shoulder.
Nervous. That’s how I feel all the time now.
Perpetually nervous. I haven’t heard from Thomas since yesterday.
But this time, unlike all the others, I didn’t chase him.
I was trying to follow Alex’s advice and take a step back from the whole situation.
But I would be lying if I said I didn’t miss him and didn’t constantly hope for a phone call or even a visit in the middle of the night.
And I know that, if he showed up, I’d give in despite all my best intentions.
Just like I always do when it comes to him.
The good news is that he didn’t come to the Marsy yesterday to get drunk either.
I can only hope he wasn’t just doing it somewhere else.
My phone vibrates in my pocket while Logan uses his laptop to take notes on everything I’ve just explained to him. It’s a text from Matt. I’m a little weirded out because we never text each other.
Did you hear your boyfriend started coming back to practice again?
This knocks me for a loop. I had no idea. But the news does make me unaccountably joyful: He’s back on campus; he’s playing again. Maybe the worst really is almost over?
Me: I didn’t hear anything about it. But that’s a good thing, right?
Matt: Not exactly. Look, I don’t think I should be the one to tell you this, but I’m worried the person who should worry won’t. Recently, the coach decided to give the entire team a surprise drug test before practice. Thomas popped hot for cocaine and got kicked off the team.
My eyes fly open, and my heart begins to beat so hard that I can feel it reverberating through my entire body.
It can’t…it can’t be true. I gulp air, swamped by nausea and a sudden wave of heat.
I’m struggling to breathe, like some supernatural force is bearing down on my lungs.
My palms are sweating, and I see that I’m starting to tremble.
“Are you okay? You look…” Logan’s voice comes to me like an echo from far away. My mind blurry with anxiety, I leap to my feet.
“Sorry, Logan, but I have to go.”
“What, now?”
“I–I’m sorry, I promise I’ll make it up to you,” I babble, stuffing textbooks and notebooks into my bag as he stares at me, bewildered.
“Hold on, you’re scaring me.” He grasps my hand. “What happened?”
I fervently shake my head. “D-don’t ask me, please, I don’t know what to say.
” I pull free and run away, swerving around students as I pass.
I run with no idea where I’m headed, only that I need to get off campus right away.
Rolling my eyes skyward, I clutch my phone to my chest and take a series of deep breaths, trying to calm my racing heart.
Breathe, Vanessa. Breathe. You have to breathe.
But I can’t. Why can’t I breathe?
All around me I hear confused murmuring, see blurry images. Cold shivers pass through my body. I have never felt like this before in my entire life. What is happening to me? Am I having a heart attack? Am I dying? I need to do something. I think I need an ambulance.
“Vanessa…”
I recognize Logan’s voice behind me, and I want to turn around but I really…really can’t. I feel trapped, petrified, like my feet have been glued to the concrete. All I can hear is the beating of my heart against my rib cage and my breaths getting shorter and shorter.
“Vanessa, give me your hand, come with me,” he says softly, now by my side.
I shake my head no, unable to manage a single word. I don’t want to go anywhere. I just want this to stop, but it only gets worse. My ears are tingling, and my head feels like it’s about to explode.
“I’m afraid you’re having a panic attack. And being here, surrounded by all these people, isn’t good for you. Come with me. I’ll take you inside, into the lobby, and you’ll feel calmer there, I promise.” He takes my hand, and I, incapable of thought, let him pull me back into the entranceway.
“Here, sit down.” He eases me into a soft chair. He unzips his sweatshirt, takes it off, and wraps it around my shoulders, rubbing my arms as he does. “Now, listen carefully to me. I need you to take some deep breaths, okay?”
I shake my head. I can’t do what he’s asking me to do.
Fortunately, he seems to understand. He kneels down so he can look into my eyes and takes my hands in his. “You can control this; I promise you that you can. It is all in your head.”
I close my eyes and try to make myself to do as he says. I force air into my lungs over and over again.
“Good job; keep going. I’ll go get you some water.”
By the time he comes back, my heartbeat has almost returned to its regular rhythm. I drink all the water and hand him back the empty bottle, taking one last deep breath. “Feeling better?” he asks.
I nod. “I…I don’t know what happened to me.” I press my fingers into my temples, bowing my head. I feel embarrassed and stupid.
“You had a panic attack,” he says again.
I raise my head, still in shock. “That’s the first time it’s ever happened to me, and I’m not exaggerating when I tell you that it felt like I was dying.”
He nods. “The feelings are more or less the same, yeah. It happens during especially stressful times. The hardest part is learning to control them.”
“You seem to know a lot about the subject.”
He lowers his eyes, focusing on the floor. “I’ve been living with them for years.” Then he adds, almost shamefacedly, “For a little while, I went to therapy for it, but it didn’t help me that much.”
I wince. “I’m sorry…I didn’t know.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he reassures me. “Instead, do you maybe feel like telling me what happened? My therapist always told me that it’s easier to control your fears if you know what’s triggering them.”
That oppressive feeling starts brewing in my chest again. “I really don’t feel like talking about it right now,” I admit after another deep breath.
“Of course. I understand.” He stands up and holds out a hand to help me do the same. “Are you sure you feel okay? Should I go get you some more water?”
“No, I’m fine.” I shrug off his sweatshirt and hand it back to him. “I’m sorry I screwed up the tutoring session.”
“No worries,” he exclaims, with an accompanying wave of his hand. “We’ll make it up.” He pulls his sweatshirt back on and cracks a smile. “Were you headed home? I can go with you if you want?”
The only thing I want right now is Thomas. I want to see him. I need to. I’ve got to look him in the eye and get his side of the story. Because I refuse to believe that this is real.
“That’s sweet, Logan, but I think I need some alone time right now.
But thank you, thank you for all of this.
” I smile gratefully at him, and despite the clear disappointment on his face, he promises to get in touch in the next few days.
Though my hands are shaking, I manage to get my phone out and ask Matt where I can find Thomas right now.
I run all the way to the men’s locker room, and I’m so out of my head that I just rush right in without even knocking.
Luckily for me, it’s almost empty. There’s only Thomas, sitting on a bench with a white towel wrapped around his waist and another hanging around his neck.
His hair is dripping over his forehead, and elbows resting on his thighs, he’s cradling his head in his hands.
But the moment he senses my presence, his eyes snap to me, and the coldness that flares in them stops me in my tracks.