Walk the Line

16 - The Time She Sleeps in His Bed

16 – The Time She Sleeps in His Bed

I felt lucky to have Ford, which was quite the feeling considering only a few years ago I'd wanted him out of my life for good. But he was letting me live with him at minimal rent. Which beat the alternative—moving back in with mom and dad. As if I already didn't feel like a big enough failure. We'd negotiated that I'd pay him $250/month, which was exceptionally low rent considering the space I got.

The old home he'd purchased was an old farmhouse and he'd spent a chunk of time restoring it to its former glory, giving everything a new coat of paint and restoring the old wood floors and woodwork. It felt cozy like home and it was easily nicer than any ramshackle place I could have found for twice the price.

It had been a little complicated to explain to my parents and Kyle. We're just roommates, yes mom, just roommates. No, Kyle, Ford is not going to try to sleep with me. Remember Tiffany? I felt like a broken record, but maybe their concerns were justifiable, because Tiffany had been giving me the cold shoulder since I'd moved in. I felt bad, but Ford assured me she would get over it.

Even though I had my living situations figured out, I was still pretty stressed out. You'd think that after graduating college I would have found a way to manage my stress, but I hadn't. I still got extremely stressed out and in the worst way possible.

However, this stress was justifiable. I was supposed to start my job at Franklin Channel Nine News in the morning and that meant being on the air. On live television. Of course, that had been my goal and everything I'd ever wanted since I was old enough to watch the news, but it was still kind of terrifying. Especially when everyone I'd ever known in the small town of Franklin was going to be watching.

I took a shower and pulled on my favorite extra-large Northwestern University t-shirt and no pants because I live here now and that means I don't have to wear pants to bed. I walked across the hall and hopped into bed before rolling over into a warm body. I let out a little scream.

"Hello, Eleanor," Ford chuckled.

"Fuck," I cursed. My heart was pounding. I was so terrified.

"You know this is my room, right?" he asked.

"I'm sorry. I'm just so fucking stressed out and all this is new and I thought this was my room but it's obviously not," I said. I was still getting used to the massive home.

"What are you stressed out about?" he asked.

"I start work tomorrow," I said.

"And you're stressed out about that? That's ridiculous! Eleanor, you've been wanting to be a journalist since you could talk. You were made for this job! When you were little you used to make Kyle and I be the people you interviewed on the streets. You always made me the criminal you exposed," Ford said.

"Well, you know, I didn't use to like you," I laughed.

"Something changed?"

"Ha-ha," I mocked, "But what if I mess up on air? This is my last chance. Franklin County News is already scraping the bottom of the barrel as far as journalism goes."

"If it's the bottom of the barrel, it won't matter if you mess up. They aren't going to fire you on your first day," he said.

"But--," I started to talk back but I could feel the panic rising in my chest and my heart pound.

"Eleanor?" Ford asked. I tried to blink it back but the panic was stronger than me, stronger than my lungs, refusing me my right to breathe. I hadn't had a panic attack in years. Why now? I didn't know what to do.

"Eleanor, are you still taking your medicine?" he asked me. I shook my head no and he pulled me into him, hugging me tight and taking slow, deep breaths. The tightness in my chest continued as I grabbed fistfuls of his t-shirt and breathed ragged, raspy breaths of air that refused to go in my lungs. I'm not sure how long it was before the panic finally subdued, but Ford had patiently held me. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I shook.

"When did you stop taking your medicine?" he asked.

"When I hadn't had a panic attack in a year. I haven't had a panic attack since my Freshman year," I said, "I thought I was better. I'm sorry." I tried getting up, but I was still shaking.

"Ellie, it's okay, just relax for a minute," he said, pulling me into his warm, safe arms. I buried my face in his chest and inhaled his familiar scent. I found myself drifting off and trying to fight sleep as he played with my hair and rubbed my back soothingly.

"I should go to bed," I mumbled.

"It's okay, Ellie. Just get some rest. I set an alarm for the morning. Just relax," his deep voice reverberated through his chest.

"Won't Tiffany be mad?" I asked.

"You just had a panic attack, Ellie. I'm just taking care of you as a friend," he said.

"O-okay," I breathed, feeling myself relaxing into Ford. I hadn't had a panic attack in years and I'd forgotten how much they took out of me, how they drained me physically and emotionally and mentally. And I'd forgotten that Ford had always been the one there to help me. Somehow.