Broken

My body had already started spiraling down to an attack again; but before I could get too wobbly, I made it inside the house. Mom met me at the bottom of the creaking stairs with a big smile on her tired face. "The view from the rooms as the sun starts to set is even better than I thought it would be. Coming here was the best idea we've ever had."

Normally mom's enthusiasm was fairly catching. You expect that kind of energy in a child; when it comes from an adult it's hard not to react in kind. It didn't manage to infect me this time, but it did help focus me on the here and now. I figured I owed her for that, so I tried to suppress my generally ungracious nature. I even let her lead me up the creaky stairs to show me the 'amazing view' for the third time.

Mom pulled the mirrors out of my hands as soon as I reached the larger bedroom, and nudged me towards the window. "Admit it, Adri, we didn't get sunsets like this very often in Minnesota."

"Adriana", I corrected automatically, trying to avoid thinking about where my nickname had come from. The sunset was beautiful, just starting to turn the sky pink as a prelude to the glorious oranges that would no-doubt follow. It was the kind of thing that mom was always trying to capture with her camera, but which never seemed to turn out quite as good as the real thing. The sunset wasn't what captured my interest though, it was the greenery. Mom's room looked out to the West, the gorgeous side that reminded me of the place and people that would always be home. Mom carting me off to the middle of nowhere wasn't going to change that.

There was a huge tree on the far edge of the yard. It was a species I didn't recognize, but it seemed to call to me. For a second it seemed I could hear a familiar voice whispering in my ear. "Come on Adri. Cindi's already climbed up to the second set of branches. You can do it, but you don't have to do it all by yourself, let me help you." My vision was growing blurry. I tried to wrench my thoughts back to safe territory, but it was too late, dad's face was already filling up my vision. Cindi and I looked nothing like mom. She was all dark, wavy hair, olive skin and at five-three hadn't been able to kiss dad unless he bent down. Dad was the one that gave us the blond hair and a shot at maybe hitting an average height. I could see his handsome face smiling at me now, trying to coax me up into the tree with Cindi. The vision lasted only as long as it took me to hit the floor.

I could always judge how long I'd been out by my mom's expression when I came too. That and whether or not I'd seriously injured myself on the way down. She looked concerned, but not desperate yet. Her cell phone was in her hand, but not yet flipped open. It probably hadn't been more than eight or nine minutes.

"Adri, what just happened?"

She knew already, the psychiatrist had some fancy name for it complete with a whole list of symptoms and psychobabble garbage. It all boiled down to the idea that the more mom could get me to talk about it, the sooner I'd shake off the fainting spells. Yeah right. Talking didn't make anything better; it just let him rack up a bunch of fees while I was passed out on his couch.

"I'm fine mom. I just got a little dizzy." I didn't want to talk to her. What I really wanted to do was enjoy the short immunity fainting usually granted me. For a minute or so I could think about dad and Cindi with impunity.

I think mom had figured that out though. Nothing I'd tried recently had been equal to the task of getting her to leave me alone, or at least in silence, right after an episode. She was probably worried I'd go back to how I was immediately after it all happened. I lost a couple of weeks there, alternately triggering a panic attack, and then thinking about dad or Cindi until the immunity wore off and another attack ensued.

Mom had flipped out. I'm not sure what brought me out of that black hole. I think maybe it was when I looked out the window one day and realized I'd somehow missed fall. Fall had always been dad's favorite time. Cindi's had been spring-she hadn't minded the mud.

My immunity was wearing off; the racing heart was a sure sign. I focused back in on what mom was saying.

"...you were doing so well. Don't worry; this is just a little setback. You'll see. Being in a different environment will do wonders for us both."

I knew the rest of mom's speech by heart, there was no reason to listen. Next she'd run through all of the famous, marginally well-known, or even really obscure photographers who got their start in the west. It didn't really matter.

I waited the requisite fifteen minutes and then went back out to the U-haul and got another box. Mom followed me out this time. I guess she was worried again.

Even worries about school wouldn't cushion me now that I'd had an attack today. There was nothing left but to wrap myself in numbness as I traveled back and forth between the truck and the house in a slow-moving haze.

The truck was the smallest one they rented, and we hadn't come even close to filling it up, but it was still dark by the time we finished. Mom looked at the mass of boxes, groaned dramatically, and then went to the fridge and broke out the sandwiches we'd purchased when we stopped in town for directions.

An hour later our beds were made, and I had an outfit laid out for school the next day. The clothes weren't mine. They'd nearly triggered a full scale blowup. Mom thought I just wanted new clothes. I knew we couldn't afford a new wardrobe just because I was temporarily skinny. I didn't mind wearing my old stuff, I just didn't want to wear Cin...wear her clothes. My near attack ended the conversation, albeit with my old clothes still packed away in some anonymous box.

Mom's enthusiasm couldn't be damped for long though. It had fully returned by the time she turned my light off. "Have a good night Adri...anna. You'll see, tomorrow will be like the start of a whole new life."

I kept the tears back until the door was shut, and then they came in a hot rush that left me depleted and sore. It was like mom had already forgotten about the other half of our family..