Leap (10 page)

“Can’t breathe.” He cups my face and searches my eyes. I stare at him as I try to have air enter my burning lungs.

Only a towel covers my body as he picks me up under my legs and carries me to my bed. He lays me down and covers me with two blankets immediately because my shaking is not under control.

He tucks the blankets in around me, creating a makeshift cocoon around my flesh. He runs his hands up and down where my arms are covered.

“Jesus, Rinny. Please stop shaking. What’s wrong? Why are you shaking? Please, tell me. You're scaring me. Please.”

He pleads with me to tell him what’s wrong, and I can’t answer right away. My teeth chatter, my heart races, and a lump is in my throat and no matter how many times I try to swallow it down, it just won’t go away.

“Ma, ma, make it go . . . go away, Mack. Ma, make it stop.”

My eyes are shut so tight I see stars, and the trembling doesn’t subside until I hear Mack’s voice beside me. I feel his breath in my ear and the warmth of his body next to mine suddenly. His arms encompass my body and try to still my body. My face comes in contact with what feels like his chest, and I cry. I weep. I scream through my tears.

“Shh . . . Rinny. I’m here. I’ll make it stop. I’ll make it go away. Whatever it is, I’ll make it go away. I won’t let go. I’ll never let go.”

I don’t remember falling asleep. I wake up somewhere between the end of a dream and the awakening from a restful sleep. I’m tangled in heavy blankets, and I can feel my body overheated by the weight of them. I know it’s nighttime now because all I can see are the flashes of lightning illuminating the walls around my room and turning my head a little north, I see Mack at my desk. His head is down, and his hands are clasped behind his neck. The light from my computer screen sits in front of him. I stretch and blink a few more times.

“Mack? What are you doing?”

He turns around, gets up from the desk, and sits on the end of my bed.

“Hey, you’re awake. How you feelin’?”

I smile because I feel well rested.

“Good, actually. How long was I out for?”

“Few hours. Big storm is headed this way. Mae called and said the storm out in Montauk is bad so they are staying an extra night.”

I nod and roll over slightly and hug my pillow. Lazily I ask, “What’ve you been doing while I was asleep.”

He shrugs. “Made some soup for dinner. Straightened up your bathroom, talked to Veronica.”

I was feeling okay up until he just mentioned that wench’s name. I don’t respond. My silence speaks louder than any word I can say.

“Rinny, she was concerned. She knows what went on and she asked how you were. She even wanted to come over.”

That earned him a ‘ha’ from my lips.

“I bet she did. She just wanted to see you, Mack. I’m not stupid.” He ignores me and gets up and goes back to the computer.

His fingers move over the keys and I ask, “What are you doing?”

Mack sighs and continues to type away. “Looking up the symptoms of what was going on with you earlier before you fell asleep.”

I bite my lower lip and remember the way I acted. “Mack, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I acted like that. I just couldn’t control my breathing or the way I was feeling. I was fine one minute and the next . . .” He stops me.

“I know what it was, Rinny.” I clash of thunder rattles the windows and me for a second.

“What do you mean?”

The light on the screen goes out after a crash of lightning funnels through the room followed by a roar of thunder.

“Damn it. Electricity is down.” The room is pitch black but I can tell that Mack approaches my bed again.

“You got a flashlight in here?”

“Bedside table drawer.” Mack finds it and clicks it on. I sit up in bed but realize in that split second I have no clothes on, and I thank the Gods the lights are out and that Mack didn't flash the light onto me. He had seen enough last night. I pull the covers up fully under my chin and then the light is cast upon my face.

“Oh shit. I carried you in from the bathroom and you only have a towel . . .”

He sees my face and immediately stops talking and takes the flashlight over to my dresser drawers. He pulls out a pair of my underwear and holds the light up to it.

He laughs. “Nice, Rin. I didn’t take you for a blue lace thong kinda girl.” He throws them at me along with a t-shirt and pajama shorts. I motion for him to turn around while I hurriedly dress.

“Okay, it’s safe.” Mack comes over and plops on the bed next to me as the only sounds we hear are the raindrops hitting the glass on the windows and the rainwater pouring through the gutters.

“So, um what did you find with your research.”

He shines the flashlight up to my ceiling, and I look at the fading star decals.

“Panic attack. You had a panic attack. You have all the classic symptoms. They usually occur after a trauma, and I’m pretty damn sure last night was some sort of a trauma.”

I’ve never felt the way I did a few hours ago. I never shook like that or felt as though I couldn’t breathe. But after Mack rattles off the symptoms, I agree with him. I had a panic attack for sure.

“So what do I do if it happens again?”

The thunder booms again and light from the lightning filters in the room.

“It said breathing exercises, chamomile tea, and meditation. If none of that works there are some medications to help. It says sometimes they go away on their own.”

“Oh,” I reply quietly.

Mack shines the flashlight on my face. It’s so bright I shield my eyes from it.

“Get that out of my face, Mack.”

“Rinny, I want you to know that whatever it was that I did to calm you down worked so if you have another one, just call me and I’ll be there to help you through it.”

“I never ever want to feel that way again so no offense but I hope you never have to help me through another one.”

“Me neither,” he says back.

We lay in silence and listen to the storm outside. The quiet is calming but also unnerving. We could talk about a million and one things like we do every day. There’s always something for us to talk about. Except for now.

He takes the flashlight, and its beams cast a glow onto the ceiling of fading stars.

“We leave for college in three months.” He sighs and twirls the light around and around—making the stars appear like they're shooting across the sky.

“Yeah, I know. You won’t have to put up with me bothering you by throwing rocks at your window or me just walking in your house and coming straight up to your room and making myself comfy.”

Still staring at his light show he replies, “I never had to put up with anything I didn’t want to put up with, Rinny.”

I look over at him stunned a little by his words but also realizing that it’s the same with me. I never have to worry about him busting in my room excited about a baseball score, or to flush the toilet in my bathroom while I was in the shower on purpose as a joke. I won’t have to put up with him raiding my refrigerator and eating my favorite food my mom buys me before I have a chance to eat it.

I won’t have to put up with any of his shit until summer breaks.

Then my stomach empties into my feet.

“Yeah, me neither. It’s going to be weird though. I know you're going to be just a few minutes away but even that seems far compared to now.”

He sighs and puts down the flashlight—making it dark in my room except for the unpredictable luster of the lightning.

“I know but I want us to make a pact, Rinny. No matter what, we talk every day. Even if it’s just for a few minutes or if it’s just a quick hi. Let’s just do it so we can hear each other's voices. It’ll be a little different not seeing each other every day but at least we can talk.”

“I’m a little freaked out, Mack. This isn’t middle school. This is college. We’ll be on our own. Aren’t you freaked out in the slightest?”

“A little. I just know I need to get away from here for a while. I need to let my mom grieve alone, and I need to get away from the somberness of that house and this town, and this city. I need to escape how depressing it is. Still over a year and a half later and it’s everywhere we turn. New York has become nothing but one, big spiritless hole.”

Poor Mack. I know how difficult it must be for him to watch Jocelyn suffer through her depression over losing his dad.

“I think the city is just going to get stronger, Mack. People are coming together. The government is doing what they can. The troops are in Afghanistan and the Taliban don’t stand a chance against us. I don’t think we’ll be at war for too long. I give it a year.”

“Those fuckers, Rinny. Those fuckers killed my dad.” I can tell from the sound of his voice he’s getting sad so I nudge his arm with mine.

“Hey, don’t you dare rain on my pity party. I’m the one with post-traumatic stress attacks. You’re stealing my thunder, MacIntyre.” He turns sideways onto his pillow and faces me. The brightness of the light that glimmers into my window fixates on his features and illuminates the brown-jeweled toned irises of his eyes. The few freckles he has across his nose come into my sight and the grin he gives me stirs something inside my belly. And like the wind that carries a sail on the water without warning, I want to reach out and touch him. At this moment beyond anything I could ever comprehend I want to touch more on Mack than just the stupid scar I gave him. I want to feel what his hair feels like as I slowly run my hands through it. I have but in a playful way. I want to run my hands down his chest and feel his skin. I want my hand to stop and touch where his heart is. I want to know if it’s beating fast because I’m touching him, or is it just as slow as it needs to be because this is me. I’m Rinny, his Rinny, and I can’t touch Mack like a man. I can’t touch him in any other way than a friend. It would be weird. It would be awkward. This is Mack and what if I
did
touch him and he shuddered and rejected my touch. How embarrassing that would be. I can’t even imagine. I also can’t stop staring at his lips every time damn light comes into this room. His eyes are closed and as the lightning dissipates from the storm, all I can make out is the outline of his face. The contour of his jaw, and knowing he is in my bed, this close to me, just within my reach, it’s
my
heart that beats erratically. But it would never happen. Mack and me. Mack’s my home. My reasoning when there’s no reasoning with me. My rational brain when I have none. I won’t go there. He doesn’t feel anything else towards me other than as a sister, and I won’t ruin it with teenage hormones. I’ll find someone else who makes me feel like I do right now. Mack is untouchable.

“Hey, Mack?”

He yawns. “Yeah?”

“Thank you . . . for everything.”

He slips an arm underneath me and pulls me towards his chest. His other strong arm engulfs me, and I’m wrapped up in his arms like it’s the most natural thing in the world, except it’s not. Even though I don’t think I’ve ever felt so safe and secure in my entire life except for this moment. I feel at peace. I feel warm. I feel at home in Mack’s arms.

“You never have to thank me, Corrine. I’m always going to be here. I’m not going anywhere.”

CORRINE ~ PRESENT DAY

A
fter Haven goes to sleep, I go back to my parent's house and get ready for bed. I take my medicine as instructed by my mother and the new nightly ritual begins. She puts the shower chair in the tub for me, and she starts the water. I undress myself and I order her out of the room as I do. She goes under protest every time, but I need to keep a little dignity for now. I step into the tub carefully—holding on to the new shower bar installed for me on the edge of the tub. The showerhead in my childhood bathroom has been lowered, and I sit naked and let the deplorable events of the day get washed away with soap and water. The stream hits my face, and I scrub. My hair, my skin, my soul.

I call to my mom when I’m done because getting into the tub is a lot easier than getting out. She wraps a towel around me and helps me out, then leaves me to stick my robe on. I go towards the fogged up mirror and wipe it—displaying the image of someone I don’t know. Who am I? What is this all about? I ask God all the time. What’s the reason for all of this? This pain, this sorrow. Why has he chosen all of us for this torture? This is part of the nightly ritual.