Doctor's Touch

Chapter 17

There are times when I feel like the world is slowly vanishing in front of my eyes. Or maybe it's me who's disappearing and my eyes which are closing. It doesn't matter though; knowing the reason behind the phenomenon won't change my feelings about it. It won't fill my empty burning lungs with water or hold my erratic heart in place. It won't prevent my nerves from tearing its skin apart or my soul from trembling. It will keep me in exile- nothing more, nothing less.

Tonight is considered one of these times. All people around me have pitying, harsh, judging, and impatient looks on their faces. These expressions are so powerful that they become meaningless in one second and fade in front of my optical orbs.

Even though Troy has encouraged me endlessly, I'm not sure I will be able to do it. Pep talks don't always work and anxiety isn't always calmed by sugary words. Well, since the moment I've stepped into the restaurant, my emotions have been showering me in raindrops. But all of this can't be compared to the cascade of vehemence resulting from this confrontation, especially now that music fills the room without my voice. I could have started, yet my dry tongue has become somehow immobilized.

And, just like a compulsory reflex, my fingers start creeping from my shoulder towards my neck, retracing the memories of that ghastly night. Sensing every fiber of my being along the way, an avalanche of bile rises up, ready to destroy any ounce of courage left in me. Yet, all of this doesn't stop me from noticing Troy who is standing in my peripheral view. He is studying me attentively, hope holding on to his body like a falling petal.

Following his gaze, I remark that he has perceived my gesture. Worry suddenly crosses his impersonal features, amplifying my anxiety that was seeking refuge in his calm demeanor. He has most probably remembered my previous panic attack and how it started. Thus, he stops my hand from wandering into dangerous pathways by embracing it with his rough one.

"Breathe in, breathe out. It's just you and me," whispers his pink lips, a few centimeters away from mine.

Next, as if we're playing in a musical theater, the blue-eyed monster sings his piece smoothly. It's a smart move; outsiders will think it's part of the show- the male mistakenly professing the L word and having to apologize to his woman.

However, I don't think of it as a façade and lose myself in his irises. There is something about their shade I'll never find even in the most beautiful landscapes. Blue -just like a drop tickling the depth of the sea or a sky counting birds to fall asleep.

Or maybe it's his angelic voice who has captured my soul. It doesn't only hit the notes perfectly, but also plays on the strings of the ocean, making waves his opponents.

Peace.

I'm taken back to our session in the garden. My breathing comes to be softer while my muscles slowly relax. This relaxation unmutes the microphone to my voiceless chords.

"And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like I love you," the final words fall from my mouth and settle in the room.

One, two, three. It's over.

My hands are still held captive by his fingers, unlike my eyes that can't seem to let him go.

Why? Because his eyes are so different in moments like these, softer than I knew they could be. The professional man is gone replaced by someone more passionate. Maybe it's the universal consequences of singing- turning stones into livid creatures.

Then, he tells me the statement I need to hear, "We're ok. We did it, you did it."

I nod and slowly turn to face the public. People are applauding, denuding their skin from judgmental expressions. A sense of nostalgia takes over me; oh, how much I've missed this! It has magically lifted some weight off my shoulders, settling my soul at a strange yet familiar pace.