In the Wake of Wanting (18 page)

I look up at him, not quite sure I heard him right. “You obviously didn’t grow up with women in your house.” He didn’t, exactly. His mom was a successful motivational speaker who spent eleven out of twelve months of the year traveling, doing conventions all over the world. His dad pretty much raised Asher and his little brother by himself–well, and with maids and nannies that he had multiple affairs with. My friend wasn’t sure if his parents had an open marriage, or if his mother was oblivious. “I made that comment once about my mom and sister when I was ten and I learned very quickly to never make such a speculation ever again.”

“Proof that it’s true,” he says, shrugging.

“Mom and Livvy would eat you alive.”

“And I would love every second–” I drop my fork and throw down my napkin.

“Do not
ever
insinuate sexual things with my family members again, Asher. It’s deplorable and disrespectful.”

“A,” he says, talking over me, “I was kidding–“

“Wasn’t funny.”

“And B, you set it up.”

“Just… move on,” I say, more than annoyed by his comment.

“Easy, there… easy.” I take some deep breaths to calm down, finally picking my fork back up and eating again.

“How’d the rest of formal go?” I ask, just wanting to talk about something else and picking the first thing that comes to mind. He quirks his brow, and I sense he saw me waiting below Coley’s dorm that night. I wish I’d thought of something else to talk about.

“After you, uh… went upstairs, I called a car for Pryana to take her back to her apartment.”

“You called her a car? And stayed at the hotel?” I ask, not expecting the blatant lie.

“Yeah,” he says, nodding his head.

I decide not to challenge him. If he’s going to maintain that lie, I can pretend that I went up to my room alone and didn’t walk clear across town to find the intriguing girl that plagues my every thought.

“You know,” he says, “I did go by your room early the next morning,” he laughs.

My stomach drops. “What happened?” I ask him, gripping a fork in one hand and a knife in the other with clenched fists.

“You don’t remember?” he asks with a sneer I’ve never seen before on him.

I swallow. “Did anyone answer?” I can feel my pulse raging in my chest and shoulders, delivering blood to my biceps and forearms.

“Man,” he says, leaning over the table, “were you as fucked up as I was?”

“Did anyone answer, Asher!?” I say loudly, so that everyone in the restaurant is looking at us. I drop the silverware and put my palms on my jeans, rubbing them nervously, waiting for him to answer and hoping to God I can hold it together with whatever his answer is.

“I know what you did that night, Trey. I know who you were with.”

“What time was it, Asher? What time did you go by there?”
She checked out at 7:35 a.m.

“Fuck if I know, man. All I know is that the sun was coming up over the park. I saw it through the windows in your room.”

I grab my things, knocking over the table as I get up in haste. “Sorry!” I say to the guys behind the food station–
certainly
not to Asher.

“Trey!” he yells, but I can’t hear any more. I have to get out of here or I’ll kill him. I’ll kill him if he did anything to
her
. My throat gets tighter and tighter as I walk toward Coley’s dorm. It gets harder and harder to breathe. I had asthma when I was little, but not since I was nine or so, and I’ve played sports year round every year since. I’ve played hard. I swim hard. But I know what an asthma attack feels like. This feels a lot like that.

And I can’t breathe.

Just across the street from Carman Hall, I can’t walk anymore and call 9-1-1 after easing to the sidewalk against the brick building. “Can’t. Breathe.”

Someone takes the phone from me. “We’re at the southeast corner of 114
^th
and Broadway. Maybe an asthma attack?” I nod my head. “And holy shit. It’s Trey Holland. You okay, man?” An older guy squats next to me, trying to get me to breathe with him. “He’s not wheezing, no. No coughing. Yeah, he’s shaking like crazy.” He takes my hand in his. “Cold, clammy.”

Still holding my phone to his ear, he sits next to me cross-legged. A bunch of people have crowded around now. “Back off!” he yells, throwing his free arm around. “Sorry, sorry.” I’m not sure if he’s apologizing to the operator or to me. “Trey?”

I nod my head.

“An ambulance is on the way.”

I’m starting to breathe better now, though.

“Yeah. Breathe… yeah,” he says, motioning with his hand for me to inhale and exhale on command. I concentrate on the motions and comply. My throat opens up but my heart is still pounding out of control. “You’re okay,” he assures me.

I lean my head back, seeing Coley’s building and remembering what I was doing. The choking feeling returns.

“No, no, no, Trey. No, breathe.”

“Out of the way, folks,” a woman says, rounding the corner on my left. Three paramedics arrive with a stretcher piled high with equipment. The man that was with me hangs up the phone and sets it next to me on the ground.

“You’ll be okay,” he says.

“Thanks,” I barely manage to say. I try to get a good look, hoping to remember him, but one of the paramedics steps in the way, taking my arm in his hand and trying to check my pulse. “Inhaler,” I say. “I need an inhaler.”

They put an oxygen mask on me instead.

“You’re not having an asthma attack, Mr. Holland. It’s a panic attack. I need you to take some nice, deep breaths.”

Panic
attack? I start breathing, resting my head against the wall and closing my eyes. Deep breaths are impossible at first, but with concentration, they start getting a little longer. Someone puts a cuff on my arm to take my blood pressure, and I try to relax.

“Good job, Trey.”

“Thanks,” I say, opening my eyes and getting a glimpse of Carman Hall again. “I need to find Coley. I can’t breathe.”

“Trey, you’re gonna have to calm down, or we’re gonna have to put you on that stretcher over there. You see that?” I look down and then over to where she’s pointing. “You’re a tall, muscular guy. Don’t make us pick you up,” she jokes with me. “What are you, six-three?”

“Four,” I breathe heavily.

“Your feet’ll hang off that,” she says. “You don’t want to ride on that silly thing, do you?”

I shake my head.

“You a Rangers fan?”

I nod.

“What about that hat trick last Friday? Was that insane? All in two minutes!”

Again, I nod. Breathing is getting easier.

“Good job. Keep breathing. Innnn and ouuut.”

“Pulse is slowing,” another one says.

“Blood pressure’s good.”

I glance up to test myself. I think about Coley, alone in that hotel room.
Breathe in.
I think about Asher in there with her.
Breathe out.
Why the fuck was he in there?
Breathe in.
Is this why she isn’t talking to me?
Breathe out.
She isn’t mine.
Breathe in.
She isn’t a thing to have. To take. To possess. Not by me.
Breathe out.
Not by him, either, though.
Breathe in.

She can make her own choices. She’s an adult. She’s fully capable. She doesn’t need rescuing.
Breathe out
. Why didn’t I tell him how I felt about her?
Breathe in
. Would he have respected my feelings and stayed away? Is there any possible way that he feels the same way about her that I do?

Not in a
thousand lifetimes
.

Breathe out
.

I nod my head and point to the mask. “Can I take this off?”

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“We’re good on pulse.”

“Blood pressure’s normal.”

She helps me remove the instrument, and I take a few breaths of fresh air while the small crowd around us applauds. The small woman who’d complained about carrying me to the stretcher helps me to my feet. She can’t be more than five feet tall. “Thank you,” I tell her. “I feel fine.”

“Whatever you were thinking about… can’t be that bad, right?”

“Right.”
Hopefully, but I’m about to find out
. I grab my phone and bag and head across the street, going into the unmarked entrance to Carman Hall.

“Can I help you find someone?” a girl asks.

“Coley Fitzsimmons. She’s on the ninth floor. That’s all I know.”

“She’s down the hall from me.”

“She’s here?”

“We can check. I’ll sign you in.”

“Thanks.”

She walks up to the registration desk and writes in big, bubbly letters TREY HOLLAND next to JANA WICKER. She dots her I with a heart.

“Are you okay?” she asks. “I couldn’t help but notice what happened out there.”

“I’m good,” I tell her. “Just a little, uh… asthma attack.” I look away when I tell her, my natural reaction to lies. “I haven’t had to use an inhaler in years, so I wasn’t prepared for that.”

“I’m pre-med, if you need anything,” she says when we get out on her floor. We stop at the third door on the right, and she raps four times quickly. We can hear people inside. “Coley? Teri? It’s Jana, with a visitor.”

Breathe in. Breathe out
.

Coley opens the door slightly, her expression changing quickly from curiosity to distrust.

Jana senses the tension immediately. “If I shouldn’t have brought him up here, I’ll take him back downstairs.”

“Coley, please,” I beg her.

“It’s fine, Jana.” Coley smiles at her friend, nodding at her to send her away. She slips into some house shoes and comes out into the hallway with me. “Let’s go down here,” she says as she guides me to a common area where a few other students are huddled in front of a television. We take two seats in the very back row of the room.

“What happened Sunday morning, Coley?” I can’t help but jump right in.

“What’s up with your face?” she asks, touching the area on either side of my lips. “Indentations… or something.”

“Oxygen mask. I just had a fucking panic attack. I was with Asher. He said he went to my hotel room, Coley.” I put my face into my hands.
Breathe in. Breathe out
. “What the hell happened Sunday morning?”

“Oxygen?”

“If you don’t answer my question, we’re going to have to get the paramedics back here, laureate. I’m not kidding.” She can tell from my shortness of breath that I’m not.

“I’m sorry, Trey.” Her voice is full of remorse. She shakes her head. I swear, a tear falls from each of my eyes before they even have time to form. They catch me completely off-guard, anyway. “He woke me up, pounding at the door, and I thought… I thought it was an emergency or something. I panicked. I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I knew it was him. I answered the door. I was in my pajamas… they were… not the most modest pajamas in the world. I was half asleep, and… I didn’t know what to do.”

I’m not following her story. “So… what did you do?”

“He was yelling for you to come to the door… It was obvious he was messed up. Drunk, at least, and still in his tux, but he looked awful…”

“Yeah? And?”

“I told him you weren’t there, but he didn’t believe me. So he wanted me to let him in to prove it to him.”

“Tell me you didn’t let him in. Please, Coley.”

When she directs her attention to my lap, I do the same, only to see that I’ve got both of her hands in mine. I’m trembling. I know it’s me and not her because my arms are shaking, too. I try to pull away, but she holds on to me tighter. “I didn’t let him in. I kept the door latched. But he thinks we hooked up, Trey. He laughed and said he finally had something solid on the
saint
. Before I knew what he was doing, he took my picture through the opening in the door.”

I wrestle my hands away and pull her tightly into my chest.

“I was so scared, Trey. After I closed the door, he stayed in the hallway and pounded on it, yelling for you for fifteen minutes or so.” I move my hands up and down her back. “He said he was going to tell Zaina if you didn’t come out. Then, he said that he had
told
Zaina. I felt awful.”

I shake my head. “I don’t think he’s done anything like that. Not yet, anyway. Coley, I’m so sorry. I never thought anyone would bother you. I wish you had called me.”

“I just wanted to get out of there… and things were weird… and I felt so bad. I don’t want to be the reason you and Zaina break up.”