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7
Caiti
I wakewith a flutter in my chest after a restless sleep. My stomach shifts like a lava pool as my consciousness kicks in, sending my heart into overdrive. Not again. I squeeze my already closed eyes tighter. Another morning waking with fear in my veins.
Why didn’t I know anxiety could be like this? These all consuming feelings happening at random without identifiable triggers. I always assumed an anxious person would be afraid of attending a party alone or speaking to a crowded room or driving over a bridge. Why is it that I’m merely afraid of waking up in the morning?
I take slow, deep breaths through my nose, something the therapist I saw after Eric died tried to get me to practice with regularity. I found it to be a bunch of garbage, but as time went on, the simple way of calming myself eased some of the sensations. Now that my fear has returned with a vengeance, I find the action annoying.
Fluttering my eyes open, I’m met with a strange room and dim lighting. The memories from the day before rush back in. What am I doing in Dane’s room again? The bed beside me is messed but empty. I grip the vial around my neck and listen. Except for my breathing, the rest of the apartment appears silent.
I locate my phone in the side pocket of my leggings. It’s a miracle it stayed put all night. The battery is down to fifteen percent, and all my belongings remain in my car. I’m not sure where my keys ended up, but they have to be nearby. Unless Dane’s holding them hostage to force a conversation.
A message from the home screen waits from Evie, and guilt sinks into my stomach. I’m so used to ignoring her attempts at reaching out that I almost missed it. With a hurried swipe, I open the text and read.
Evie: Ophelia slept great! She’s having some toast and a banana for breakfast. Call me when you’re up. Love you.
I type back:Thanks for the update. I miss her so much! Let me figure out where Dane is, and I’ll call you in a bit. Kisses!
I clickthe screen off and head to the bathroom. The rest of the apartment is vacant. I definitely need to find my keys so I can change my clothes. I’ve been in these pants for so long that they’re going to start to adhere to my skin, and a shower sound heavenly right about now.
A white sheet of paper on the kitchen counter beckons me forward. The apartment is small but tidy, with an air of coziness I can’t quite place. A smoky pine smell reminds me of Christmas without a tree in sight. The kitchen and living room are open, separated by a bar counter with two stools. I imagine as a bachelor, Dane eats most of his meals here or on the couch in front of some sports game.
The vision of his concerned face chases some of the gray clouds from my head this morning. I don’t know how he’ll take to this entire situation, but his actions yesterday give the impression I can count on him.
Beside the paper are my keys. A phone number is transcribed in a barely legible scribble above a message.
C-
I’ll be back at eleven. Help yourself to the fridge. Put this number in your phone and call if you need anything.
D.
A glanceat the microwave clock shows I have thirty minutes alone before he returns. I check the note again and add the number to my contact list. My stomach sours further at the thought of food. I’m too anxious to eat. I scratch that off my mental to-do list and grab my keys to the car. I’ll shower instead.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m lathered, rinsed, shaved, and clean. With a towel wrapped around my body, I stand on the blue rug in front of Dane’s sink, worrying my thumbnail between my teeth. What-if thoughts circle my brain like vultures surveying roadkill. Apprehension at our impending conversation seizes all rational thought. I should have tried harder to stay awake last night instead of putting this off until morning. The fretfulness is nothing new—I’ve had three years of practice—it’s the thought of losing control again like I did yesterday that sends new terror through me.
My phone rings on the sink, jolting me from the ruminating.
“Hey, Evie,” I answer, coughing to disguise the perpetual tightness.
“Morning! How’d it go last night?” She’s never one to hold back, except when concealing her own secrets. I crack a small smile, thinking of how hard she tried to keep this town a secret from Eric and me, and ultimately failed. I’m grateful I got to see Arrow Creek before. The slight sense of familiarity made the return bearable.
I clutch the knot of the towel between my breasts. “It didn’t. I fell asleep.”
“No! You’re kidding.”
“Sleep got the better of me, I guess.”
“Caiti.” Her tone is one of a disapproving mother. “Well, what happened this morning then?”
I dance from foot to foot. “It didn’t. He was gone when I woke up.”
“Do I have to lock the two of you in a room to figure this out? Because I will.”
“You’re supposed to be on my side,” I whine, glancing back at my reflection in the mirror.
“Oh, I am. You have no idea,” she mutters. “How about I bring the kids and pick you up? We can do some shopping until Dane’s back from his errands.”
The thought does nothing to settle my nerves. If anything, it sends my new-friend anxiety back to the forefront. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. He should be back soon. Actually, I’m standing naked in his bathroom right now, so I should take care of that.”
“Why? It’s not anything he hasn’t already seen.”
“One-time thing.”
“That’s no fun. Who else is servicing your needs?”
