I'll Be Holding on to You

ptsd

Gage was closing the deli a few nights later, since he felt ready to do so. Mara, Erika and I were inside with him as he did the last few things, Mara perched on the counter. She was reading from a magazine. 

"It says here straight women have fewer orgasms," she said with a mischievous look.

"Sucks for them?" I raised my eyebrows.

She looked at Erika, who was browsing the wide array of chocolate. "What do you think about that, Short Straw?"

Erika gave her a look that was partly unreadable and partly gloating at the nickname and partly telling her clearly to watch herself if she didn't want her ass handed to her on a plate. "I really couldn't say," she mused.

"Is that right." Mara looked thoughtful, and winked at me. I pretended not to notice because I was not getting in the middle.

"Okay, guys, I'm almost ready." Gage came through the swinging black doors. It didn't bother me nearly as much as I worried it might to be there. "The pig barbecue is in the back of the truck so it can go to the repair guy tomorrow. I just need to secure it, if you'll help me, Mar." He had a toweled bundle in his hands.

"Sure," she said, hopping down.

"Here, take these and I'll get the lock." He handed her the bundle and it fell from her grasp, hitting the floor.

The towel fell open and out spilled a tangle of bungee cords.

The breath was slammed out of me and terror overrode everything I'd ever known. 

I fled to the door and a rack caught my jacket, halting me. I shoved it away and then was out the door and running into the dark, somehow avoiding the busy road next to the parking lot, just fleeing. My mind was so static I didn't even think about the cars once. My feet pounded the ground hard and my heart pounded harder and still I couldn't breathe. 

Something pulled my sleeve and I screamed, yanking away, even as part of me knew, insisted even, that I was okay, that I was safe. Blind panic overruled any semblance of logic.

But I knew Erika even through my fright and when she touched me again, my arm this time instead of my sleeve, I stopped running, doubling over. I tried to draw breath and couldn't. My head swam and I dropped to my knees. 

She did the same and was holding me like I would otherwise float away. It helped ground me and my body relaxed enough to actually allow the air in. Still, I was scared, so scared it was as though I had actually seen Robbie. Sweat poured off me and all I could smell was dirt and the tang of fear.

"We are a fucked up bunch, my darling," she told me lovingly, patiently, as we knelt together in the dark, in the dirt, behind the store. "But we are a fucked up bunch together, and this I fucking swear to you." I was still gasping for air. "Breathe, Dorienne. Breathe, bb. Just let the air in, you're okay. Jesus Christ, poor fuckin' thing. I'm here, love."

The adrenaline was leaving me and I was sick and shaky in the aftermath. I turned away from her and vomited until my stomach muscles were cramping. "Jesus Christ," she said again in sorrow, wiping my face with the bottom of her shirt.

I told myself to get it together, to get past it, that there were going to be times in my life I saw fucking bungee cords, for fuck's sake! I told myself I could just move on and they would put them away and it would be fine. We could just be regular people and go on with our regular night.

But my mind just kept snapping back to that pile of them falling out onto the floor, and the realization of what they were, and every time it just swelled until it filled my head and threatened my sanity. "I want to go home," I whispered, knowing she would fix it. I kept flashing on mental images I'd long ago suppressed and was truly worried about my breaking mind at that point.