Maybe Someday

EIGHT

                                                                                        EIGHT

CLAIRE

Our faces are super close to each other. Too close for my liking.

"I need you." He says again, now caressing my cheek with his thumb. 

"Why?"

"Because you understand me like no one does. You know me, the real me."

"I don't know who you are anymore Josh."

I say walking away from him to go sit at the edge of my bed. He follows me and does the same thing. 

"I'm the same guy you grew up with."

"Are you? Because in all honesty, I haven't seen it. This version of yourself that you portray is not the guy I grew up with. This macho, arrogant jackass guy that you've become is not the Josh I know. I hate that Josh."

"I know and I'm sorry. I'm trying to change."

"Well, try harder. Because I don't want to be around you when you're acting like a jerk."

"Then help me. Help me change; please. I need you, Claire. My dad has been patronizing me a lot these days. You know how he is. Always wants me to be perfect. You know how he can be. I just... I can't deal with it anymore." His body is starting to get tense. 

"With what?"

"The pressure. I just want everything to be over."

"It will.", I say caressing his back. 

Suddenly, I saw that his breathing was accelerating dramatically and I could feel his heart beating rapidly against my palm. A little bit of sweat was leaking down his temples. He gets off the bed. I could see him shaking. What is going on?

"Josh? Are you okay?"

He looks at me with fear in his eyes. I see his chest going up and down quickly. 

"I... I can't... Bre... Breathe." 

Oh no. He's having a panic attack. I thought these were over. I haven't seen him have one in a very long time. 

"Claire... Help... Me..."

I get up and go in front of him.

"It's okay. I'm here." I say, caressing his back. 

Suddenly, he falls to his knees, a hand on his chest. Fuck. It's worse than I thought. 

"Mom!" I scream. 

I get on my knees and cup Josh's face in my hands. I hear my mom running up the stairs and stop in my doorway.

"What? What's wrong?"

"Josh is having a panic attack."

"I can't... I can't breathe."

My mom doesn't waste a second and runs to go get an inhaler with an air chamber and a small plastic bag filled with ice. I've read on Google that applying ice or even drinking cold water helps slow down your heart rate and causes a shift in your parasympathetic nervous system. In other words, it calms you down. So, I grabbed the bag from my mom's hand and put it against the side of Josh's neck. My mother asks me if I need her help but I say no. With time, I've learned how to deal with this kind of situation. Josh used to have panic attacks regularly. And somehow, I was the only one able to calm him down. One day he had one so intense that the paramedics had to intervene. By the way, the way people in movies use an inhaler is complete bullshit.