Chapter Nine #2
Nate gave her a fierce look, like he thought she might be mocking him. She smiled softly and held his gaze, hoping he’d see that she understood.
‘Yes,’ he said. His voice was barely more than a whisper.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ she asked.
Nate shrugged and swallowed hard. ‘It’s low level, mostly, and circumstantial – day to day I’m usually fine, but it’s hardly a conversation starter.’ He half-smiled, and Lucy could see that talking was helping.
‘What circumstances make it worse?’ asked Lucy. It felt important to know, considering their situation, and it definitely wasn’t her first time at this particular rodeo.
‘Airports and flying are hard,’ said Nate. ‘I’ve got some calming stuff I can listen to when I travel. Social situations are a whole other thing.’
Hence the headphones in the airport and him leaving the party early, thought Lucy, kicking herself for not spotting it sooner.
‘This morning the mountains were too big, the sun was too bright and the snow was too deep. I definitely should have read the signs and stayed at the hotel.’ Nate forced a laugh, like he was trying to brush it off as nothing, but Lucy knew it wasn’t nothing.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, feeling inexplicably guilty. She’d been so caught up in her own dramas that she’d entirely failed to notice that Nate was struggling. And even worse, she’d dismissed his strange behaviour as rudeness, when it was clear he was only trying to hold it together.
‘Just keep breathing, OK?’ she said gently.
The bar felt quiet after the bustle of lunch – Gunther was speaking in a low voice to the man and woman from the band, and the two tall men at the next table were hunched over their phones.
Right on cue, Lucy’s phone vibrated and she snatched it up. It was Jonno, on a WhatsApp video call.
‘Hey,’ he said as she answered it. He looked pale and worried. ‘I’m with Sasha and Kristoff. You guys OK? There’s been an avalanche.’
‘I know, we heard it,’ said Lucy. ‘The building was actually shaking. But we’re fine, we’re still in the bar.’
‘Thank fuck for that,’ said Jonno, rubbing his hand over his face. ‘We were worried you might already be on the bus coming back down.’
‘No, we’re still here. We may have to wait a while, though.’
‘I’ve just spoken to the owner of our hotel; they’re pretty sure nobody was in the path. They closed the mountain an hour ago.’
‘Yeah, the landlord here said the same.’ Lucy breathed, relieved that they weren’t going to be a sidebar in a Swiss mountain tragedy. Survivor’s guilt and PTSD were both familiar territory, but she could do without another two years of therapy.
‘Is Nate with you?’ It was Sasha’s voice.
‘I’m here,’ said Nate, as Lucy turned her phone so he was on camera.
He kept his voice steady, and Lucy wondered if Sasha knew about his anxiety.
She must do; it wasn’t the kind of thing you could hide for very long, and Lucy had worked it out within hours.
‘We’re both fine,’ he added. ‘Everything’s cool. ’
‘Keep us posted, yeah?’ That was Kristoff’s voice, before he appeared on camera looking like a chiselled god in black ski gear. ‘The bar will be open when you get back.’
‘They’re literally IN a bar,’ said Jonno, and Lucy could hear his eyes rolling even though the camera was still on Kristoff.
‘We’ll let you know as soon as we’re on our way,’ said Lucy. ‘Don’t have any fun without us.’ She ended the call and looked at Nate, wondering what was going on inside his head right now.
‘Can we keep talking?’ he asked.
‘Sure,’ said Lucy with a soft smile. Clearly nothing was going to happen for a while, and she owed him this. ‘What would you like to talk about?’
‘Tell me how you know about anxiety disorders,’ said Nate.
Lucy looked away, wondering how much to tell him about Leo.
A few hours ago she’d successfully deflected the conversation, but an entire mountain had shifted between them since then.
They’d gone from being colleagues who barely knew each other, to two people who were sharing an avalanche experience.
By any standards, they were definitely no longer strangers.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You don’t seem like a very anxious person,’ said Nate with a shrug. ‘Apart from earlier on the bus, when you looked like you were making plans for your own funeral.’
‘I was,’ said Lucy, smiling weakly. ‘I was wondering who might say nice things about me during the service.’
‘Lots of people, I should think. But if you’re not sure, you could write your own eulogy in advance. I’m sure you’d do an amazing job.’
Lucy said nothing, registering the compliment. She realised with surprise that in some ways she wanted to talk about it, because Nate of all people would probably understand. But equally this was something she never talked about, even to Jonno. It was hard to know where to start.
‘Hey,’ said Nate, his warm hands suddenly on hers.
Lucy looked up, suddenly aware that her cheeks were wet with tears.
So much for maintaining composure. She searched for a deflection, but all the potential lies felt bitter on her tongue.
‘I don’t have anxiety,’ she said, taking a deep breath as she gently extracted her hand.
‘But I know someone who did. My brother Leo . . . my twin brother, actually.’
Nate’s eyes widened, the way people’s always did when they found out. ‘Wow, your brother is your twin?’
‘Mmm,’ said Lucy, dabbing at the pizza crumbs on the table so she didn’t have to look at him.
Was she really going to talk about this?
With Nate Lambert, of all people. Apparently so.
‘He died eleven years ago. Today, actually.’ The words rushed out so fast, she wondered for a moment if Nate had heard them.
‘Shit,’ he gasped, visibly shocked. ‘Lucy. I’m so sorry.’
‘It’s OK,’ said Lucy, even though it was very, very far from being OK. ‘He’d have thoroughly approved of this.’
Nate smiled, visibly relieved that he hadn’t put his foot in it. ‘Which bit?’
‘All of it, probably,’ she said, feeling the warmth return to her fingers. ‘The wine, the food, the board games, the drama.’
‘How old was he?’ asked Nate.
‘Twenty-one,’ said Lucy. ‘He’d have seen all this as a big adventure.’ And so would I, once upon a time, she thought to herself.
‘Fuck, that’s so young,’ said Nate. ‘How did he . . . if you don’t mind me asking?’
Lucy took a deep breath. ‘Can we not talk about that? I’m not being rude, but it’s a long story and today is . . . a difficult one for me.’
‘Of course.’ Nate held up his hands. ‘I’m really sorry.’ He looked at her and smiled, and it communicated warmth and solidarity and understanding. Nate wasn’t dumb; he’d probably filled in the gaps in this story already. But she appreciated him backing off nonetheless.
‘Don’t be,’ said Lucy. ‘But what I will say is that Leo suffered from anxiety since we were kids, and I learned to recognise the signs. Sometimes it was low level, other times full-blown panic attacks.’
‘And you were the one who could talk him down.’
‘Yes.’ There was an awkward silence as pain knifed through Lucy’s chest. Apart from that one time when it really mattered.
They were quiet for a moment, and Lucy wasn’t sure where to take the conversation next.
Telling him about Leo had crossed a line into a strange kind of intimacy – Jonno was the only other person at the agency who knew she’d lost a brother, but any questions had been shut down very early in their friendship.
She glanced at Nate, wondering what was going through his head after the avalanche.
If Leo had been anything to go by, it could be anything from racing thoughts of impending doom to flashing lights and sirens.
They both looked up as the woman with the guitar propped herself on a bar stool and strummed a few chords to tune up, then launched into a song. Lucy listened to the first verse, then started to laugh, hoping she could distract Nate from the motorway pile-up happening in his brain. ‘Jesus, really?’
‘What it is?’ asked Nate, looking around for whatever new disaster the mountain was throwing in their direction.
‘She’s singing “Tragedy”. By the Bee Gees. Or Steps, if you’re our generation.’
‘Christ,’ said Nate, rubbing his pale face with his hands. ‘Is this appropriate right now?’
‘I would say . . . definitely not,’ smirked Lucy, picking up the wine bottle and shaking the last few drops into her glass.
Right now, sobering up felt like the worst idea ever.
The woman delivered the chorus in a breathy voice at funereal pace, like the acoustic John Lewis advert version of a Bee Gees classic literally nobody asked for.
‘This situation is too much,’ said Nate to nobody in particular, his voice wavering and his fists clenching into white knuckles. He closed his eyes as his breathing came faster. ‘I don’t . . . I can’t.’
‘Hey, it’s OK,’ said Lucy quickly, resting her hand on his arm in the hope that she could provide some kind of anchor before he spiralled. ‘Just breathe, OK?’