Losing Charity

Losing Charity - 22

I feel a panic coming on. I don't know why.

Yes, I get anxiety attacks. Sometimes.

Stress. Stress does it. I don't handle stress overly well.

Test. Job interview. First day on a job. Second day on a job. Any day on a job, really. Arguments. The dentist. Deciding what to wear on a date. Going on a date. All aspects of dates.

Lots of things stress me. Some things panic me.

Sometimes I vomit.

For a second, I feel like I might.

I turn away suddenly. I cover my mouth.

The feeling passes.

I look back up at Molly. Cover with a weak smile.

Her face says it all. She's concerned. Worried about me. I know that look. The worried about me look.

"Charity, what is it?" she says.

"Almost threw up," I say. "Might have been the salad."

She gives me another long, appraising Molly look. "Did you throw up last night?"

"I think I might have."

"Not at dinner, I hope."

I blush again. I know what she's thinking.

I have, in fact, vomited on a date before.

By which I mean literally on him.

This has happened.

To me. Well, to my unfortunate date.

Did I mention I get nervous sometimes? Yes, I may have.

"No, no," I say. "Nothing like that. Not at dinner. Later." I shrug. "But just as well. Boring date anyway. Big disappointment." I force a smile. "What else is new, right?"

Her face turns sympathetic. "Sorry, girl. I know you had high hopes for this one. A potential Prince Charming."

I shake my head. "Frog. Total frog."

We laugh. Old joke. You have to kiss a lot of frogs, right?

"What if he calls?" she asks.

"He won't," I say.

I feel inexplicably confident in this statement.

"His loss, then."

Mols is not entirely satisfied with my almost wholly improvised tale. She wanted more. She expected juicy.

But she buys it. Nothing to see here. Move along.

I feel dirty. I don't know why.

My nose detects a whiff of cigar smoke.

Must be one of the neighbors lighting up. Even though this is allegedly a non-smoking building.

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Losing Charity © Dan McGirt 2019. All rights reserved.

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