Kids at my school were unsure what to do with me. I was too young to hang out with kids taking the same classes I was, too smart for the kids my own age, too weird to be appreciated by anyone who hadn’t been around for years. I didn’t mind. Well, not much. Okay, maybe a little, because I always felt that I was under a microscope, like some kind of weird freaky-looking thing that people didn’t quite know how to categorize.
So I figured I could improve my social skills by tutoring others and also earn money at the same time so I could tell Dom I’d gotten his gift by myself. For some reason, that last thing was very important to me.
I raised the money, yeah. But the social side of it? That was a freaking nightmare. I swear I was speaking English, but my pupils didn’t seem to understand a single word coming out of my mouth.
I don’t use big words just so I sound smart. I’m not like that. I just… I don’t know. I operate on a completely different wavelength, I guess. At least I know I’ll never be a teacher like Bear. How he has that much patience is beyond me. I wanted to pull my hair out ten minutes into the first session.
But it was worth it, because it let me afford his gift. At least, I hope it’s going to be worth it when he sees it. Is it the right thing to give him? Or is it stupid? Is it such trite sentimental bullshit t
hat he’ll take one look at it and roll his eyes?
Crap.
I shuffle through my list, trying to clear my head. It’s not working. I’m starting to feel anxious, that old feeling constricting slightly in my chest. I need this damn party to go off perfectly or else I’m going to have a minor meltdown. I try and focus on my breathing like Eddie taught me how to do years ago when I was diagnosed as having panic attacks. Bear too, though his are lesser in strength and frequency than mine. I didn’t want to go on medication, and Eddie is a little too Zen to write prescriptions anyway, so we tried meditation and breathing, and it worked for the most part. And it should work now. I’m not that far gone yet. I don’t have the clawing at my heart, the constricting of my throat, but it could get there. It could get there so easily. One little push and everything would get a little hazy because nothing will work right, and I—
No. No. No.
All I need to do is breathe.
Just breathe.
In. Hold for three seconds.
I don’t want to go to the bathtub today.
Out. Hold for three seconds.
There are no earthquakes. I do not shake.
In. Hold for three seconds.
I am not having a panic attack. I am above it.
Out. Hold for three seconds.
Everything is fine. Everything is fine.
Bear and Otter see this, as they always do. And as always, they don’t speak, they don’t try to break me out of it. I know it kills Bear to see me this way and not be able to do anything, but Eddie told him it would only make it worse if he tried to interfere with my exercises. Bear’s always been my protector, and I know it causes him pain to not be able to stop these stupid little moments I have. I tried once to explain that it’s not his fault and that him just being there is all I need. I wasn’t very eloquent, as my explanation came at the end of one of these attacks. I was slightly hysterical after having convinced myself that Bear was going to leave that day for whatever reason and not come back. He understood, even if I hadn’t made much sense.
Much like he understands now. He knows that, sometimes, I don’t need words. I don’t need to talk it out. I just need him to be near me while I push through it. I hear his chair scrape as he stands and soon he’s kneeling next to me, twisting my chair until I’m facing him. I look down at my hands and then glance up at him through my eyelashes. He rubs his hand down my arm and I take his fingers in my lap and tug on them, something I’ve done as long as I can remember. It feels safer now. It feels like home.
“Kid,” he says gently.
“What?” I say, sounding snappish. I don’t mean to and I wince, trying to show him I’m sorry.
He looks like he’s choosing his words carefully, which, if you know Papa Bear, is a feat in and of itself. It also makes me dread the words that are going to come out of his mouth. “I know,” he says, “that Dom’s your best friend, and that’s a good reason for you to want this to be perfect. But… is something else going on? You seem a little… high-strung. Well, more so than usual. It’s been a while since you’ve had to do your exercises. At least that I’ve seen.” I don’t miss when he glances quickly at Otter or the subtle shake of Otter’s head in response.
“I’m fine,” I mutter. “There’s nothing wrong. I just want his party to go well so that he has fun. That’s all.” And that’s a big, fat lie, but I don’t want Bear to know that.
However, he doesn’t let it go. “Kid,” he says, “what’s so different about this year than all the ones before?”
Damn him.
I rub my hands over my face, wondering if I should push away from the table and head outside for a bit to clear my head. This moment has been moving closer and closer, and I don’t know if I’m ready to deal with it yet. Every day I look at the calendar and mark off each passing day and it reminds me of what will happen and what I cannot change, no matter how much I want it to. No matter how much I wish I could ask Dom to just go with—
No. It’s not fair to him. I can’t do that. I can’t. His life is here. He’s building it in Seafare and will continue to do so even when I’m not.
“It’s just….” I try to articulate, but it seems petty, childish. It seems beneath me that I should have these fears, that I should be feeling this way. It’s not who I am. It’s not the way I want to be. It’s not the way I was raised. I am so much bigger than this. I am so much stronger than this. Bear was better than this, and the stuff he had to go through was harder than anything I’m going through. I know nothing of sacrifice. I know nothing of pain. Not like what he had to do.