Tightrope

22

THEN

WILL

It started small. Most of them did. It was extremely rare for one of my attacks to just happen out of nowhere. 

Most times, there was a buildup. My foot started to bounce, or I started getting hot flashes, even when it was freezing cold. 

Sometimes, I felt like I was asphyxiating. As hard as I tried, I just couldn't seem to get a good breath in, which was so frustrating I started panicking. 

I hated it.

This time, it started small. A tight feeling in my chest only grew whenever I tried breathing. 

My hands were starting to feel numb. 

Becca, I needed Becca. 

I left my apartment, not even caring about the fight with my dad, and knocked next door. 

Becca's dad appeared in the doorway. Harold Cole was a good man, or at least I thought so. He was serious, but so loving with his family. He was hardworking, liked fancy suits, and loved Becca more than life itself. 

He was also standing in my way.

"Will, hey! How've you been?" Mr. Cole asked. He always spoke to me like we hadn't seen each other in a long while, then the truth was, some weeks I saw him more than I saw my own father. 

I tugged at my collar nervously, feeling hot all of a sudden. "Hey, Mr. Cole," My voice shook, and I scolded myself for it. 

I cleared my throat. "Been good. What about you?" I tried to be polite. 

"I've been well, Will, thanks. You're a good kid." 

I swallowed hard. "Is, uh... is Becca home?" I asked, praying she would be. 

Mr. Cole just nodded and stepped aside. "She's in her room, come right in." 

I mumbled my thanks to him and headed toward Becca's room. 

Her door was closed, but I couldn't even feel my hands well enough to knock, so I just opened the door. 

Becca was laying on her bed, reading a book. She turned around as soon as she heard the door open. "Oh, hey Will," she greeted me before going back to her book.

It was what we did sometimes, we each did our own thing while keeping each other company. Sometimes, she would read and I would watch T.V., sometimes she would watch T.V. while I read. 

This wasn't one of those times, though.

Becca set aside her book and turned to face me again when I didn't answer. "What's wrong?" she asked. 

I shook my head, not feeling like explaining my situation at the moment. "Can you just talk to me?" I asked. I needed a distraction desperately. 

"Yeah, okay I've got this," Becca whispered to herself. "I just started a new book," 

I closed my eyes as I paced from one side of the bedroom to the other. "What's it about?" 

"It's about a girl. And a boy. They're friends but then they kinda fall in love." She explained. 

"How old are they?" I asked the most random questions to get my mind off the rising anxiety. 

"Eighteen. It takes place after their high school graduation. They're going to different colleges but they still have the summer, so they decide to try to date for the summer and just like, give themselves a chance." Becca continued explaining.

"Do they end up together?" 

Becca shrugged, "Probably, I haven't read that far yet, though."

There was a moment of silence before Becca asked,

"Are you okay?"

I nodded quickly. I was okay. I was not actually having an attack, I was just stuck in the buildup of one. 

Becca got up from the bed and walked over to me. "Stop pacing. Sit." She led me over to her bed and sat down next to me. 

I tried taking a deep breath but failed miserably. She put her hand on my back, applying gentle pressure like she always did when this happened. 

"Focus, Will." She whispered.

"I'm trying," I exhaled.

And I really was trying, I was just not succeeding. 

I hated it so much, I hated to feel like this and I hated to be such a big bother. 

I hated that my attacks interfered with my life.

What if I had an attack while at a game? While playing? What would I do then? 

Becca wouldn't be able to be there on the ice with me to calm me down, and it's not like I can just go over to the coach and tell him I sometimes freak out and get anxiety attacks. 

And while they were mostly triggered by fights with my father, what if something else triggered one? What if he showed up at a game and I spotted him from the ice and went spiraling right then and there?

It made me sick to even think about it. 

I choked on air and Becca patted my back a couple of times. "You're okay," She reassured me. 

I wanted to believe her, but I didn't feel okay. 

I buried my face in my hands, begging the anxious feeling to go away. 

It didn't. 

After years of doing this, Becca knew that I just had to wait it out now. 

Whenever I got stuck on the buildup to one of my attacks, it was like I just couldn't get off. I wasn't actually having an attack so I wasn't sure when it would end. 

Nothing we had tried so far had actually worked to stop the buildup. 

Well, there had been one thing. 

That one time I was so panicked I couldn't even go to Becca's and my dad just went back for round two. 

That definitely helped get me off the buildup stage and into a full-blown attack. 

But I also definitely wasn't the course of action I would rather take. 

And so Becca and I stayed seated on the bed for around half an hour, waiting it out. 

❈

"You know that book I read last week?" Becca asked. We were laying on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. 

"The one with the yellow cover?" I asked, vaguely remembering her carrying it around. 

"Exactly. Well, there was a point in the book where two best friends made a deal..." She kept speaking.

"What kind of deal?"

"That if they weren't married by thirty they'd marry each other," Becca explained. 

I had seen enough romantic comedies with her to know exactly what deal she was talking about. It was the most cliché thing ever between best friends. 

But if I really thought about it, it was a way to make sure you didn't die alone with your cat. 

"I mean, that's a good deal," I chuckled. 

"Thirty is way too young, though. But forty is a good idea." Becca explained. "Will, will you marry me if we're both single by the time we're forty?" 

I was taken aback by the suggestion. I didn't know if she was kidding or not. 

I didn't really care. The plan seemed logical enough. I liked Becca, and I already spent most of my time with her. I could probably marry her tomorrow, and it would work.

Still, I laughed. "Sure," 

"Really?" Becca beamed, excited. 

"Yes, Becca. I'll marry you if we're still single by forty."