Chapter 7
Eddie
I sit, sipping a can of Merry Berry Mynt sparkling water that was in my room refrigerator. The bland taste is frankly gross, but my mouth is so dry I don’t care. My hands are shaking, so I set it down. Closing my eyes, I lean back onto the couch.
The face of the young boy in the ballroom immediately flashes in my mind. I rub my forehead, willing the image to disappear.
I hear another knock on the door and then the hotel lady’s voice. “Mr. Evans, please let me in. I’d like to make sure you’re okay.”
“Go away,” I groan back.
It’s not that I’m trying to be a jerk. I just need a few minutes to pull myself together. The boy in the ballroom…he looked just like my younger brother. I can’t believe it. I almost thought it was him. It’s not possible, but for a second, my brain hoped.
The hotel lady’s muffled voice cuts through my thoughts. “Mr. Evans, I’m not leaving until you open this door and let me in.”
I sigh. What is her deal?
My chest feels heavy, and tension is creeping up my neck.
I take another drink, trying to swallow down the lump in my throat.
Ugh, this water stuff is awful. What I really need is a Dr. Pepper.
It’s my comfort drink. One I usually avoid while preparing for the tennis season, but desperate times.
Now that it’s on my mind, nothing else will do.
Good thing I know someone with connections. I stand and make my way to the door. Through the peephole I see the lady who I think is named Maya leaning on the wall across from my room. I slide the lock and swing the door open.
The woman straightens. I can tell I startled her, but she attempts a smile. “Mr. Evans.”
“Hey, sorry about all that. I, uh, am not feeling the best. Just a headache. But, one thing that always helps is a Dr. Pepper. Do you think you could get one for me?”
Maya’s face softens. “I’m sorry you aren’t feeling well. I can certainly get you a Dr. Pepper. I’ll be right back.”
“Thank you.”
I close the door and head back to the couch.
I know I need this sponsorship, but I really don’t know if I'll make it through this week. These symptoms have happened a few times before. When I went to the doctor, they said it was most likely a panic attack. I don’t have panic attacks.
I can’t have panic attacks. It’s this stupid event's fault. I haven’t had these symptoms in years, but I know how to fix them.
I focus on training, I stay away from people and I avoid Christmas at all costs. This week is ruining everything.
“Mr. Evans.” I hear Maya’s voice. “I have your drink for you.”
Walking back to the door, I crack it open. She holds out a bottle of Dr. Pepper.
“I also got you a snack.” She grins, then holds up a bag of Cheez-Its in her other hand.
I stare at the bag, stunned. Then, I mumble, “Thank you,” grab both items and slam the door.