The Last Time We Met

18

"Breathe, honey," Mom was saying, rubbing my back. "Do you need your inhaler?"

I lifted my head up from my arms. I hadn't had a vision, which was weird. My chest felt tight and I was still struggling to breathe. "Maybe?"

Her comforting hand went away and the sounds of rummaging through the medicine cabinet scraped against my ears. I hadn't had an asthma attack in forever. Mom believed it was because she cut processed sugar from our diets, but my doctor had once said sometimes "childhood asthma" just "went away." I'd been about thirteen then, and I wasn't even sure I still had an unexpired inhaler.

Mom returned with one, that she shook up before checking the date on it. "Well, they say medicine just gets less effective after the expiration. It's probably still okay to take it."

And I did, and felt that tight band around my lungs release a little bit.

"Why don't you go upstairs and lie down," Mom suggested. I just nodded and did that, leaving all my books downstairs. I didn't even realize I'd left my cellphone in my backpack until I hit my bed, but I couldn't make myself get up again. No matter, because Mom carried it up to me. "Cedric texted you," she said, sitting on the side of the bed as she handed it to me. She pushed my hair back from my forehead in what I at first thought was a comforting gesture, until I realized she was seeing if I had a fever. "Maybe I should take your temperature. Just in case."

"Sure," I mumbled. I knew I didn't have coronavirus, or COVID-19, as they were calling it now. But if it made her feel better I would let her do what she needed.

While she was looking for our thermometer, which neither of us had used in years, I opened Cedric's text.

So my dad says I can't go over to your house today

I closed my eyes and drew in as deep a breath as I could manage, then exhaled before I texted back.

Can you Facetime me

Mom came in with the thermometer as my screen lit up with Cedric's incoming call. "Hey," he said, then squinted. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

"I, uh, my mom's taking my temperature. I just had an asthma attack, that's all."

Cedric watched my mom lean in to stick the thermometer in my ear. "I didn't know you had asthma."

"I haven't had an asthma attack since I was, like, nine."

"It was probably a panic attack," Mom said loudly. The thermometer beeped. "Okay, you're normal. 98.8. Or isn't it supposed to be 98.6?"

"That's normal," Cedric said through the phone. "You only need to worry if it's over 100."

"And your mom's a nurse, so you would know." Mom nodded. "Okay. Rest up, hon. I'll be loading up the pantry."

"What is going on?" Cedric asked as soon as my mom left the room. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," I mumbled half into my pillow. "She's right, it was probably just a panic attack. Like, it all hit me all at once."

"Yeah, this is pretty crazy. I didn't even know until I got home from school that school was closing for three weeks. I left half my books there." When I didn't say anything, he kept going. "I mean, I probably should have known. They just sent out a thing last week about cancelling all afterschool activities."

"I wouldn't have known either," I said finally. "Eli told me."

Cedric peered at me through the phone. "I want to come over there and hug you."