Into the Fire Ch. 10

As if he heard us, his eyes locked with mine. I gave him a small wave, and he winked. "Absurdly, and completely."

"He has the means to take care of you?"

I inhaled deeply, the sight of him playing with Austin melting the rest of my anger away. "He says he wants to marry me."

"I know. He came to see me at the office two weeks ago, asking for my blessing for the two of you."

"He did? What did you say?"

"That I felt you are entirely too young, and in no way should he not interrupt your education. But you are an excellent judge of character, and if you feel he is good enough for you, that's enough for me. I have to get back to work." He pulled an envelope from his coat pocket. He placed it in my hand and gave me a brief squeeze on the shoulder. "I'll be in touch. Enjoy the rest of your day." He walked up the opposite path and was gone.

I wrapped my arms around myself, either from the breeze or the conversation, I couldn't be sure. Shane appeared at my side, basket in one hand, Austin in the other. When we reached the truck he threw the basket and blanket into the back, handing me Austin to ride in my lap. I don't know if he thought I was still mad, or just needed space, but he didn't ask until we pulled off. "Everythin' okay?"

"They're getting a divorce." A sharp pain stabbed me in the temples, I reached up to rub them as they throbbed. I rolled my window down all the way, starting to feel extremely hot. Shane whistled low. "Damn, I'm sorry. You okay, sweetheart?"

"I, uh..." I balled my fists to keep them from shaking. "I think..." I felt that constricting feeling in my chest, like a boa constrictor was wrapped around my lungs. Oh God. Not now.

"I mean, I know you and your mom don't get along, but...hey, what's wrong?"

"I need to get home. I need to take my Ativan." I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to breathe deeply. It's a panic attack. It's not a heart attack, or a stroke. You're not going to die. Breathe. Breathe.

Shane spoke quietly. "What do you need me to do?" I felt the engine rev as he drove faster.

You're not dying. Ride it out. Keep breathing. "Talk. Just talk about anything." My voice was shaky, drawing in gasps of air after each word.

"Okay. Do you know how to change a tire?" I shook my head. Listen to his voice. Focus on the external. Ride it out. "First, put the car jack under the frame near the tire that needs changin'. Make sure it's flat against the ground, then raise it until it's supporting the car, not liftin' it up all the way. Next comes off the hubcap, and loosen the nuts. Here's how you do that..." By the time he got to back to tightening the nuts again we were home. He got out without turning off the engine, running into the house. Half a minute later he reappeared with my pills and a glass of water, handing them to me through the open window. I swallowed them quickly and drained the glass, leaning my head back on the seat in relief. My chest was still tight, but the hyperventilating was beginning to subside and at least now I knew it would be over soon. "Thank you."

He opened the door and reached over to unbuckle my seatbelt, taking care not to touch me. "What else can I do?"

I closed my eyes again, concentrating on my heartbeat starting to slow while the Ativan took over. "Can you take Austin and put him in his crate? I'll be there in a minute." All the shaking from my anxiety attack and the car ride had him sound asleep in my lap.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I'm right behind you."

He picked up the sleeping pup and reluctantly walked into the house. I remained seated, running down my Tess's Panic Attack Recovery checklist.

Breathing? Normal.

Heartbeat? Normal.

Mental state? Shaky. Growing tired. Humiliated, but no longer feel like I'm dying. Good to go.

I took the keys out of the ignition, stepped out of the truck and shut the door, leaning against it as I got a hold of my wobbly footing. I made my way up the porch, where Shane was waiting for me. I walked right into his arms, gently securing me against him without making me feel trapped. "I need a nap."

"I guess I should have let you sleep in this mornin', huh?"

I wrapped my arms weakly around him, clutching to his shirt for support. "This isn't your fault. It happens. Thank you for taking care of me."

"Thanks for letting me. C'mon, let's go upstairs." He cupped the bottom of my butt in his hands and lifted me onto him, my arms around him tightly while my head set in the crook of his neck. He carried me up the steps to our room, setting me on my feet while he started taking off my clothes. Leaving only my panties on, he wrapped me in a blanket that smelled faintly of him and helped me in the middle of the bed. "Do you want me to stay?"

"That's okay. Go do Shane stuff," I murmured, half asleep. "I'll see you some hours. I love your face." I heard a soft chuckle, a faint brush of a kiss on my forehead. "I love your face too. Sweet dreams."

***

I groggily peeled my eyelids apart. The bedroom was dark, and I could see nothing but the time the digital clock on the nightstand. 7:00. Ugh. Damnit. The five hour nap I had taken felt way too short. That's what I hated about anxiety attacks, besides the physical attack itself; while the Ativan helped immensely, I tended to zonk out for hours, and ended up feeling like I wasted my day. I sat up immediately, cursing the dizziness from the head rush, and planted my feet on the floor to go find my boys.

I pulled my shirt on, not bothering with the rest. Stepping into the dark hallway, I noticed a sliver of light coming from the guest bedroom. I stepped quietly, not wanting to disturb him if he was reading, until I heard his voice through the slightly ajar door.

"I don't know what to do, Dad. I think I'm makin' her worse." I stopped moving. Oh God.

"She's been doing a lot better, then today she had a panic attack after seein' her dad." My face heated with embarrassment. His parents are going to think I'm a lunatic. "No, I'm not blaming myself, but I think I'm pushin' her too hard. I pushed her to see him, I pushed her to move in with me...I think I'm stressin' her out. And she's already stressed out at school...uh huh. Sometimes I think I should give her more space, but I hate being away from her. Yeah, it's totally selfish...maybe we should wait on movin' in together. " A hard lump formed in my throat as I tried to stay silent.

"No. No, I am not breaking up with her...because it's not an option. If someone told you maybe you should divorce Mom, what would you tell them?" A pause, then a boisterous laugh. "Exactly. But she's amazin', you know? She's funny, and God, she's so smart. And she's the most beautiful girl I've ever laid eyes on. She pisses me off so bad one minute and I can't keep my hands off her the next...yeah, she is a lot like Mom...ugh, gross, Dad." A smile touched my lips, envious of how close they seemed. "I worry about her all the time...yeah, it is draining, but what else can I do? She doesn't have anyone looking out for her, and I love the hell out of her."

I knocked on the door and pushed it open, feeling guilty for eavesdropping. He motioned for me to come to him. I stopped a few inches from where he was seated on the bed until he reached with his long arms, grabbing my shirt and hauling me to him until I was practically in his lap. He wrapped one arm around my butt and set his forehead onto my stomach, mumbling into the phone. "Dad, I gotta go...yeah, she's here...that's right, I pick her...because she smells better than you do." I giggled noiselessly, smoothing the curls over his ears. "Love you too." He threw the phone on the bed and smashed his face in my belly. "God, you're so soft."

"Is that your way of calling me fat?" He slapped me on the ass for teasing, then fell back on the bed, taking me with him. "Don't talk about my girlfriend like that. How are you feelin'?"

"Better."

"Wanna talk to me about it?"

"No, but I know you want to, so I'm going to say something, and then I don't want to talk about this for the rest of the night, okay?" I sat up, supporting my hands on his chest while he cupped my ass. He raised an eyebrow at my request but didn't say anything. "I don't like surprises."

"...that's it? You don't like surprises?"

"I mean that...I'm not good with change. It has taken me a very long time to feel like I'm in control of my life. Then the accident happened and you came along, and I'm so happy you're in my life, but to go from no one to all this love and sex and happiness...it's a lot, you know? And I am really happy, but I'm worried about making you happy, because I'm so messed up, and..." Shane smacked me on the ass again. "Ow! What the hell! I'm trying to talk to you!"

He massaged where he spanked me with his palm. "You're not talkin', you're spiraling, and I can't understand what the hell you're tryin' to say. Take a deep breath and try again." I gave him a dirty look, but did what he asked. "You have to stop making major decisions about my life without my input."

"What are you talking about?"

"You decided I'm ready to take care of a dog, whom I love very much, but you know how much busy I am. You decided we're going to live together a full year than we discussed. You went and talked to my dad about getting married when you haven't even proposed to me yet! And kids? What if I don't want kids? It's like, you have the next twenty years of my life planned out and I don't have any say in it."

His mouth was set in a firm line, clearly unhappy with what I just said. "No one said you didn't have any say in it. You don't want kids? You want to move to California, or New York, or the moon? Fine. But I'm not a fuckin' mind reader, Tess. If you want something, stop beating around the bush and say it."

I crossed my arms, trying to keep my balance on his lap. "It's hard to say anything to you when you're being so controlling."

"You don't have a problem with me being so controlling when I'm pullin' your hair and smackin' your ass."

I pushed at him, climbing off his lap and stomping out of the room. "That is not the same thing and you know it. If you're going to be a jerk then forget it." I sprinted into our bedroom when I heard him coming up behind me and scurried across the bed, setting on my feet when he crossed the threshold. I could see on his face he was thinking about coming to get me. "If you come over here I swear to God I will kick you in the balls. Don't touch me."

He stalked toward the bed as I backed away, but all he did was rest his hand on the bedpost. We scrutinized each other for a minute, seemingly not being able to stop antagonizing each other. "I'm not tryin' to control your life, okay? All I'm doing is moving us forward, in any direction. I'm sorry if you think I'm not including you, but maybe if you told me what you actually want, we could work on this together instead of me feelin' like I have to do everything by myself."

"I never said you had to do anything by yourself. I'm trying here, but if it's not as fast as you like you just go at whatever pace you want. You say you love taking care of me and then resent me when you do. I never asked you to do any of this! You took on this caretaker role all on your own, you're constantly acting like I'm not capable of taking care of myself."

"Let's be honest darlin', you were doing a pretty shitty job of it before I met you."

My hand flew to my stomach, as if he just punched me. "Wow. I didn't know you thought I was so weak without you to swoop in and save me. Good to know." I walked around the bed and snatched my pants off the floor, not looking him in the eye.

"Shit. Tess, I didn't mean it like that."

"No, it's fine, I read you loud and clear, Tex. Take me home. Now." He stood, unmoving. "Either take me or I'll call a cab." He threw his hands up and snarled in frustration before leaving the room to grab his keys.

***

We spent the entire ride to my apartment stewing over our argument. It's one thing to think you're helpless, it's a whole other thing for your boyfriend to think it, too. I hadn't meant to get into a fight, but his words hurt. I liked that he took care of me, but I damn sure didn't want him to feel obligated to. I was his girlfriend, not his child. Does this ever get any easier?

He parked in front of my apartment and I sat, not wanting to fight, not being able to leave. "I don't want to be so dependent on you anymore."

"Tess, that's not what I meant..."

"I know what you meant, and you're right. I don't make decisions, I don't move forward, I stay unchanged because it's easier. First my parents made all of my decisions for me, and now you...I need to learn to be in charge of my own life for once. I'm just...I'm not sure if I can do it if you're around doing it for me. I feel like...I feel like you want to move in together now because you want to look after me constantly, and that's not okay. For you, or for me." I stared out the window to the front steps, something holding me back.

"Tess...you're makin' me feel like if you go, I'm never going to see you again."

"God, no, it's just..." I wanted to reassure him that wasn't true, that couldn't be true, when my phone rang in my hand. My dad's number illuminated the screen, I only picked up because the conversation was making me ill. "Hey, Dad, this isn't a good time." I listened to the words he said to me, the sentences making sense but the context garbled in my head. "Okay." I hung up in the middle of what he was saying.

"What'd your dad say?" I couldn't answer him, I didn't know how to form the words. He grabbed my hand and gave me a little shake. "Hey. Tell me." I turned to him, and said the phrase I had thought a hundred times before, but never thought I'd actually say out loud.

"My mom is dead."

***

"Contessa, there's someone here to see you."

I fixated on the wall opposite my childhood bed, where I had been sitting since we returned from the cemetery. The funeral for my mother was nothing short of extravagant; large white roses and gold drapery surrounded her casket, which had a TemperPedic lining. TemperPedic. In a casket. Ridiculousness aside, Monica Adams demanded the finest in life, even in death. I could hear the wake carrying on downstairs but had no interest in celebrating the life of a woman who made mine hell.

"Not now, Dad." I head low mumbling outside the door, followed by a soft knock.

"Tess? It's me."

I closed my eyes and let the sound of Shane's voice vibrate in my ears. It was the first time I had heard from him in about a week, after I left him a brief voicemail informing him thought it would be best if we had some distance for a while, and I would call him when I was ready. Not that he hadn't tried to get in touch. My phone rang every five minutes for two hours until I turned it off. He also drove up and came to my apartment, but Sydney got rid of him. I'm still not sure what she said to him, but the phone calls stopped.

"Go away, Shane."

"Tess, please. Please open the door. Just talk to me. Tell me what I can do."

I continued to focus on the bare cream wall, courtesy of my mother deeming pictures and posters as "distractions from my grades". When Dad called to tell me she'd mixed too many pills with booze and had a heart attack, after the initial shock, I laughed. I laughed until I cried. Shane thought I was having a nervous breakdown of sorts, but it was just because I found it so ironic that a woman with no heart had died from a heart attack.

That was the only time I cried.

I'd been running on autopilot, with Sydney practically moving into my apartment to be by my side the whole time. I wasn't sure how I felt, or should feel, and I couldn't sort it out because there were people around me all the time. I wasn't sad. I wasn't angry. I was just numb. And tired. And wanted to be left alone.

Austin started whining by my feet, so I stood and hesitantly crossed the room to open it. Freshly shaven and in a black suit, Shane flashed a look of relief. A week ago I would have jumped on him for looking so good. But...that was a week ago.

"Go home, Shane."

He let out a large breath and ran his hand through his hair, drawing my attention to the dark circles under his eyes. I guess he hadn't been sleeping well either. "Sweetheart, I just want to help."

"I don't need help. Go home."

"If you would just talk to me..."

"Go home, Shane."

"Tess, please, just listen to me..."

"Shane, just STOP." I shouted louder than I intended to, but it was the only way I got his attention. "I want you to listen...really, really listen because you don't seem to get it. I don't want to talk. I don't want to do this. I just want to be left alone. So please, for the last time, go home."

The crushed look on his face would have made me cry, if I were able to at the moment. "So that's it, we're over? I don't get a say in any of this?"

I bent down to pick up Austin, holding on to the door for support. "That's it. I'm sorry." I closed the door and leaned my forehead against it. After a couple of minutes I heard his footsteps trek down the hall. I sighed. It was done. I went back to the bed and climbed into the covers. With Austin nestled at my side, I closed my eyes, sleep finally dragging me under.

And that's where I stayed for the next three days.