Between the Lines (21 page)

“Which
one?” He holds the tablet up to me.

I point
to Mikhail Pletnev & Russian National Orchestra, and Gabe clicks “buy”.

It’s a
beautiful ballet and I find the waltz to play that first. As soon as the music
starts I can feel myself begin to relax. Why didn’t I turn on a ballet sooner?

“That’s
the same one as the Disney animation.”

This time
I smile.

“I even
remember the words.”

“Lyrics,”
I correct as the anxiety begins to start letting go of me. “Can you even sing?”

“No.” He
chuckles. “Certain things are kept between me and my shower.”

I danced
this once upon a time, when I was younger and had dreams of being a prima ballerina.
I was young and only had a minor role in the production, but it’s one of my
favorites. I close my eyes, listen and go through the chorography in my head.
The vise around my chest relaxes and I’m no longer shivering. Either the meds
are finally beginning to work, or I have Gabe and Tchaikovsky to thank for
bringing me back.

Gabe – 32

I barely
slept and was lucky to doze off a couple of times, but I was too afraid to
really sleep. What if Ellen woke again and needed me? Instead, I made sure the
ballet played over and over, turning the volume down just a little, every
fifteen minutes or so, just so it wouldn’t wake her, and continued to hold her
close. She’s only been asleep for about three hours and I’d turned off the
tablet a little over an hour ago and set it aside. I have no idea how long she
was awake, suffering, before I woke up, and she’ll probably be exhausted for
the rest of the day. I know I’ll be.

But at
least she’s sound asleep now.

I can
hear Mateo moving around in the kitchen and I slip out of the bed, careful not
to disturb Ellen and leave the room, leaving the door slightly cracked so I can
hear her if she wakes. Mateo is standing at the counter, reading the
prescription bottles. I left them there after I brought her into the apartment
and locked the door. I wanted them close in case she needed to take them again.

He looks
up, lifting a questioning eyebrow. I put a finger to my lips so he knows to
stay quiet.

“Is Ellen
in there?” he whispers.

I push my
fingers through my hair and nod before going to the coffee pot and grabbing a
cup.

“She has
an anxiety disorder?”

I nod and
take a seat on one of the stools and tell Mateo what happened last night and
why we are down here. “I almost called you, but she wouldn’t let me use the
phone. I didn’t know what to do.”

“There’s
not much you can do, unless you get her to the hospital for something for the
attack specifically, and still, that takes time.”

“She
wouldn’t go.”

“That
sucks.” He takes a sip of his coffee. I know Mateo would understand. He deals
with this kind of thing all the time. “She should probably get something to
take in case this ever happens again.”

“I’ll
suggest she call her doctor today, after she wakes up.”

“She’ll
probably sleep a good portion of the day if her attack lasted as long as you
say. They can really drain a person.”

“I am
drained.”

I turn to
find Ellen standing in the doorway. Her hair is mussed and there are circles
beneath her eyes. Shit! I shouldn’t have left her.

She looks
at the prescription bottles and then up at Mateo and grimaces before hanging
her head. “I’ll just get my blanket and go upstairs.”

“You
aren’t going anywhere,” I insist.

“Thanks
for helping me last night, but I’m sure you don’t want to deal with my
emotional issues.”

Mateo
meets my eyes. “You have nothing to be concerned about.” He feels sorry for
her, and is concerned. I can read it in his eyes.

“It was a
panic attack, Ellen. Hell for you, I’m sure, but this one has passed.” I pour
her a cup of coffee and set it on the counter. 

Mateo
shakes his head, but I’m already pouring.

“Do you
take anything in it?” I ask her.

“Just
black,” she answers and slides onto another stool. This is the first time I’ve
ever seen her slouch. It’s as if all energy has been drained from her. She
shouldn’t be out of bed yet, but I don’t know if I should or could make her do
anything. I know I’m a bit skittish, afraid I’ll do or say something that sends
her into another downward spiral. I don’t have nearly the experience with this
as Mateo and last night I was just going with my gut and what little training I
got at Baxter.

Mateo
grabs his phone off of the counter and goes to his room, closing the door. Is
he calling someone?

Ellen
pushes her cup of coffee aside. “I shouldn’t drink this. Not yet at least.”

“Is there
something else I can get you?”

“I have a
special chamomile blended tea that I usually drink.”

“That’s
certainly better than coffee, right now,” Mateo says as he’s coming out of his
room.

“Do you
have some upstairs?” I ask.

“In the
cupboard, above the sink.”

Her keys
are on the counter and I grab them. “Be right back.”

She
stands. “No. I’ll go. I don’t want to intrude on you guys any longer.”

Her hands
are starting to shake again. She isn’t totally out of it yet? Or, are these
just lingering symptoms? Damn, I wish Mateo didn’t have to go to work. He’s the
one she should be with. He can help her. Not me.

“Stay.”
Mateo grins. “I’m not going in until later and you’re a sight prettier to look
at than his mug.”

I don’t
question why Mateo isn’t going into work right now and duck out the door before
Ellen can argue further.

Ellen

Mateo
fills at tea kettle with water and sets it on the stove before turning it on.
Is he staying here because of me? Is he afraid I’ll do something to Gabe? Just
because I have panic attacks doesn’t make me dangerous.

“I’m
sorry,” I finally say.

“For
what?” There’s a slight quirk to his lips.

“For
intruding on your morning.”

He rolls
his eyes and shakes his head. “You’re a very pleasant intrusion.”

“I’m a
fucking mess.” It’s best to admit out loud what they are probably thinking.

“I’m sure
you may feel that way right now, but you aren’t.”

What does
he mean by that? How can he know? It’s almost like he accepts this condition
without thought. Just like Gabe did last night. He didn’t back away, but stayed
with me, helping me through the crisis.

“Here you
go,” Gabe says as he comes in the door, carrying my jar of herbal tea.

“Thank
you.” I should have been drinking more of this, but hadn’t gotten out of the
cupboard since I put it there. A blend is always with me, I had just stopped
drinking it. That’s the first thing I should have started drinking the minute Scott
called. I’m not sure if it really helps, but the herbalist assured me that the
combination helps with calming and my doctor said it couldn’t hurt and possibly
could help with some of the symptoms.

Five
years ago, I took my meds and drank my tea without fail. Even after I stopped
the meds, I still drank the tea, and then that stopped. Life was normal. I
wasn’t in danger and feared nothing. I should have realized it was just a lull
and everything would come back to haunt me. Had I stayed on the treatment
course laid out for me years ago I may not have gone through hell last night.

“Do you
have anything to help with the attacks or only these for the condition?” Mateo
gestures to the prescription bottles. 

He knows
what the meds are for? Gabe seemed to know last night too, though he didn’t say
anything. “You know what those are?” I ask, wanting to make sure for some
reason.

“My
degree is in psychology,” he points out.

That’s
right. I knew that already because of the Baxter website. “I don’t have a
current script for the attacks. I haven’t needed it for years.”

He nods.
“You should probably call your doc and get that renewed, just in case.”

Is he
analyzing me right now? Shit, I’ve had enough of psychiatrists and
psychologists. Not that I saw them for long. Just in the beginning. A therapist
to help me deal, and that’s when I learned that dancing is a coping mechanism.
He told me that he usually tells people to walk and that exercise is good for
anxiety. It releases endorphins, which are supposed to make you happy, just
like the movie said. For me, it is dancing and the ballet. When I can listen to
a ballet and dance, I always feel better. Even when I can’t move, like last
night, the music soothes me. The psychiatrist was needed to prescribe the meds
because I didn’t have a family doctor at the time. At least not one I could go
to when I was hiding.

Mateo’s
right though. I’ve got a general doctor now who monitors the meds and I
probably should give her a call. This could easily happen again. At least until
I’ve been taking my other meds for a good three weeks or so.

Gabe grabs
a cup from the cupboard and sits it next to the stove. He’s still limping, a
little more today than yesterday. Probably because we walked so much and he had
to have run up the stairs to be back so quickly. “I’ll call my doctor when Gabe
calls his.”

He shoots
me a look and Mateo laughs. “Dude, she’s got you there. Now I won’t have to
ride his sorry ass about getting that knee checked. I’m tired of hounding him
about it.”

Gabe
frowns. “I’ll call as soon as the office opens.” He pins me a look. “And so
will you.”

I was
going to anyway, but he needs to see a doctor as much as me and if I can make
him go by using my panic attack, then I will. At least something good came from
last night.

Gabe – 33

Mateo
grabs the keys and grins at us. Ellen and I haven’t really moved from the couch
most of the day, until she had to go upstairs and get ready. I went with her
and waited, not wanting to leave her alone for a second.

My doctor
was able to schedule me for a late appointment, but Ellen’s is in New York. She
won’t be able to see her until next week, but a prescription was called into
the same pharmacy I use in Poughkeepsie. She dozed most of the day, her head on
my lap, while I watched television and iced my knee. A fine pair we make, I
chuckle to myself.

My
roommate ended up calling Mag, telling her he wouldn’t be in so he could take
care of a friend and then take me to the doctor. I’m sure he’ll explain in more
detail, if he hasn’t already, though I doubt he used Ellen’s name.  I wasn’t
able to hear the conversation because he called from the privacy of his room,
but I’m sure if he explained Ellen’s situation, Mag would have insisted he stay
with her. There are others who can see to Mateo’s clients, if there are issues,
but she would have only him. And, more than anyone, Mag does not take anxiety,
panic, depression or any other emotional disturbances lightly. Even if Mateo
would have suggested coming in for a short time, she would have insisted he
remain with his friend. Baxter is in the mental health field, after all, and
they don’t limit their concern to the students, but everyone their employees
care about. It’s one of the things I love about the school.

“What are
you doing?” I ask.

“Driving
you, of course.”

“I can
drive,” I ground out.

“Me too,”
Ellen insists.

He’s just
shaking his head. “You aren’t driving with that knee.”

“It’s my
left leg, not my right. I can drive.”

He
ignores me. “And, Ellen doesn’t need the stress of traffic right now.”

She bites
her lip and shrugs. Even though she’s somewhat recovered, she’s still tired and
a little shaky. Ellen doesn’t need to be driving, but I can get her to where
she needs to be.

“I’ll
drop you at your appointment then take Ellen to get more tea and her
prescription, and come back and get you.”

“What if
I need a prescription?” I point out.

“We’ll
just go back to the pharmacy.”

Without
another word, he turns and walks out the door.

Ellen

My
prescriptions are lined up on the counter, next to a new jar of tea. Mateo
stopped by an herbalist and she made a mixture of what I required. Gabe’s ortho
didn’t do anything but schedule him for an MRI. They gave him another
prescription for an anti-inflammatory, which he did take, and one for pain,
which he hasn’t even opened. They want to see what’s going on inside before
offering an injection or further surgery.

My doc
renewed my prescription and gave me one for the attacks. I won’t skip them
again and know I’ll need them until the judge finally makes a ruling.

Even
though I know it’s safe, and nobody is up in my apartment, I’m not ready to
stay up there yet.  Before we left earlier, I took the quickest shower of my
life and got out of there. For some reason I don’t feel safe there. It’s on the
second floor and the only way out is the door or a window, which is a two story
drop with no ledge to get out on. It’s irrational, I know, but I feel trapped when
I’m there. Gabe and Mateo’s apartment is on the first floor and I can escape a
hell of a lot easier.

Again, I
know it’s irrational, but I feel safer here and they are letting me stay.

Mateo ran
out for Chinese food and Gabe’s in the kitchen, brewing more tea, and he’s
singing quietly. “I know you, I danced with you once upon a dream.”

I bite
back a giggle.

He turns
and finds me smiling at him. His face turns red. “That song’s stuck in my
head,” he admits.

“You
remember the lyrics.”

He’s
shaking his head as he brings me a cup of tea. “I can’t believe it either. I
don’t think I’ve seen Sleeping Beauty since I was a kid.”

He sits
down next to me and plops the ice bag on his knee. I snuggle close and sigh. I
don’t want to be anywhere else. It’s not just the apartment, but being with
Gabe. It’s almost too good to be true and a part of me is afraid he’s only
being nice because I wigged out earlier. “I get it if you want to distance
yourself, after what happened.” I need to know he isn’t here just out of sympathy.
God, I hope that isn’t it.

“Because
of a panic attack?”

“They can
kind of push people away. I get that. Most people don’t want to deal with
them.”

His arm
tightens around me and he kisses my forehead. “I hate that you have them, but
it doesn’t change how I feel about you. I just wish I could make them go away.”

Tears
spring to my eyes and I quickly blink them away. I’m an emotional mess right
now, but his understanding is so comforting. “When they first started, my mom
told me to get over it. Then she accused me of trying to draw attention to
myself.”

He pulls
back and frowns down at me. “Seriously?”

I nod.
“She said that there was no such thing as panic or anxiety and that it was just
something doctors made up to make more money. Just like when kids were suddenly
all being diagnosed with ADD or ADHD, when hardly anyone else had been for
years. It was all so the drug companies could sell me Ritalin.”

“She
honestly believed that?”

“Yep!”
The woman had no heart. I see that now. Or, it was a cold one. “She was afraid
I would pull a stunt in front of her friends, when she still had them, and
didn’t want them thinking her daughter was crazy and belonged in a mental
institution.”

Gabe
pushes my head back against his shoulder and pulls me close. “There is nothing
wrong with you, Ellen. A lot of people have anxiety and panic attacks. I’ve
never had one, but I do know they’ve got to suck.”

“They
do.”

“You are
not crazy either, and I hate that word.”

I peer up
at him.

“That and
nuts, mad, and any other word the general population likes to use for anyone
who suffers from emotional and mental distress. There are a ton of reasons why
people act the way they do, and some just need some help, and usually with
medication.”

“Sometimes
I feel like I’m going mad,” I admit.

“Taking
meds for anxiety is no different than me taking something for my knee. The body
and brain are a complicated machine. We just need to treat what isn’t working
right at the moment.”

“Yet you
aren’t taking your pain meds,” I remind him.

“The
anti-inflammatories treat the symptoms. The pain meds just mask them. There’s a
difference.”

“And mine
treat.” He’s got a point, though I wished he’d take something for the pain, but
it isn’t my call. He knows what’s best for his body, and I know what works for
mine.

I snuggle
closer, feeling safe and calm. He accepts me, even with all my problems, and
he’s still here. He knows my past and never left my side when the worst part of
me came out. How the hell did I get so lucky to find him?

I’ve
fallen in love with this guy. There’s no other explanation for my feelings.
Anytime anyone else has ever gotten close, I’ve pushed them away. There were
guys in my past, ones I thought I really cared about, but I never told them the
truth, or who I was and I sure as hell never let them see my anxiety. Gabe has
seen it all, and I let him. I’ve blurted out my secrets, he knows who I am
because I know, instinctively, that I can trust him. I would have never done
that if I wasn’t in love.

But, is
that even possible after a week?

Or is it
just because of this emotional roller coaster I’m on?

Do I dare
trust my feelings?

And, what
if he feels differently?

I glance
up and Gabe is studying me. His blue eyes darkening before he turns me in his
arms so that I’m lying across his chest. I blink up at him as he takes the cup
from my hand and sets it on the end table.

My breath
hitches and my heart starts to pound, but not in the panic attack kind of way,
but in anticipation.

He bends,
placing his lips against mine. They are gentle and packed with emotion. My
heart aches from the tenderness. This isn’t like the other times, when passion
ruled our desire. This is a different emotion altogether. He smooths my hair
back and opens his mouth to speak just as the door opens.

“I’ve got
din…” Mateo stops.

My face
burns and I sit up quickly. Gabe shoots his friend an irritated look.

“I’ll
just make a plate and go to my room.”

“No,” I
rush to say. This is his apartment. Not mine. And, I should be in mine. I can’t
stay here, but I can’t go back up there either. At least not yet. I get up off
the couch and go into the kitchen and grab to plates.

Gabe
starts to get up.

“You stay
right there and rest your knee.”

He rolls
his eyes, but does as I say. I fill our plates after Mateo and take Gabe’s back
to him.

Mateo
takes a seat in the empty chair and looks at us. “Are you going to be listening
to Sleeping Beauty again tonight?”

My face
burns.

“Maybe,”
Gabe says.

“Why?” he
asks me curiously.

He isn’t
being all judgmental, then again, he is a psychologist. “It’s my coping. I used
to be a ballerina. When I can, I dance, when I can’t, I listen. There’s
something that helps calm me.” I bite my lip and try to think of how to put it.
“I can’t really explain why, it just works sometimes.”

He simply
nods his head and takes a bite of the fried rice.

“I’ll go
back to my apartment. I don’t want to disturb you.”

He stops
eating and stares at me. “Can you go back there right now?”

Just the
idea of the possibility of being trapped up there puts me on edge, no matter
how irrational the fear.

“I didn’t
think so.”

“I won’t
listen tonight,” I assure him, though I know myself well enough that if this
point, I’m better off falling asleep listening to a ballet. If I’m going
through the choreography to the music in my head, I’m not thinking or worrying
about anything else.

“You will
if you need to.”

“I don’t
want to disturb you.”

“That’s
not what disturbed me.” He chuckles and shakes his head. “I didn’t know you
were here and couldn’t figure out why Gabe was watching a Disney movie at two in
the morning.”

“It was
Tchaikovsky,” Gabe answers a bit defensively.

Mateo
just chuckles. “Yeah, I know that now. But dude, that is so not you, so you get
my concern.”

“Ellen’s
insisting on bringing culture to my life.”

“It’s
about time somebody did.”