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S1 E18 / 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖗𝖊𝖊
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When she was a kid, Jeanie had been obsessed with holding her breath for as long as possible.
Through tunnels and over bridges, she'd plugged her nose and stocked her cheeks, internal organs screaming until her face went red and her lips went blue.
Counting in her head... one seconds and then two... ignoring the squeeze of her lungs as they begging her to just let it go... three seconds and then four... holding on and on for as long and long as she could––
...
..
.
And then breathe.
A shuddering breath through her nostrils and a sigh between the parents in the front seat.
Breathe.
(Jeanie, you have to stop doing that.)
(It scares us half to death–!)
Now, Jeanie held her breath at stoplights and over bridges.
"I'll be––"
"Right down there, yeah, I know."
Jeremy squinted over at his sister as she leant across the centre console.
He was standing on the sidewalk now, a block down from the Town Square, hands deep in his pockets as Jeanie gave him that half-hearted 'you've got this' smile.
It was a regular routine: the 4:40pm meet outside the High School and the 10 minute drive across town for the 5:00pm appointment, and Jeanie wasn't sure if she'd let herself unclench for any of it.
And yet, there was something so loose about the way she watched him go; hoping that he'd walk in that building and find a coping mechanism that worked for him.
Hopefully, a little bit more productive than the drinking and the smoking and whatever else Mr. Tanner had written in his journal of misdeeds.
(And again, better than whatever the hell Jeanie Gilbert had going for her in that exact moment––)
