Trigger Warning: Panic Attack (Do Not Read if this is a trigger for you. I'll mark off before and after the section and put a summary at the bottom. Stay safe everybody!)
Tonight is family dinner night.
It wasn't mom's idea to begin with, but of course she loves the idea, and I still haven't found the heart to deny her that. We didn't have so many when I was in high school or during the year I took off in between high school and college, and especially few during college, when I was busy getting a degree and my mom was too.
My third year of college my mom met a man.
I was actually pretty glad that she felt ready to be meeting people again, not that it was any of my business or anything, but still, I was worried about her living alone once I moved out, which was something I was starting to consider. (I lived at home during college, considering I attended one that was only a short drive away, I didn't feel ready to move out, and most importantly it saved us money, which we needed.)
Anyways, my mom met a man at one of her night classes or something. I didn't hear about this man until they started dating, during the fall of my junior year at college.
He moved in with us about a year later.
To be honest, I don't have any issues with him really. Paul doesn't have a ton of comments to be pointed in my direction. He was the one who decided that it might be nice to start having family dinners together.
There's a little flower shop a ways down the street from my apartment. Every week on my way back to my mom's house I stop by the flower shop and pick out a flower arrangement for her and Paul. It's my way of giving back to her, although I really should do more than just buy her flowers. High school Evan was a burden, as much as she refuses to admit it, and I can't just erase all of that with a bouquet of slightly wilted carnations.
Fortunately, the drive is short, and soon I'm pulling into the driveway of the little yellow house I've known for my entire life.
I get out and straighten the collar of my polo. Mom and Paul always tell me that I don't need to dress up: after all, it's just them. I get the drift: we're all family here, no big deal, except it is a big deal. It will always be a big deal for me, no matter how many times I knock on this door and Paul comes out and shakes my hand and tells me my mother misses me.
The entryway is just how it always is, and I slide my tennis shoes off and place them next to my mother's.
It seems like we're always celebrating something at these dinners: tonight is a rare exception.
I mean, it's not like something terrible has happened or whatever. It's just... normal. And normal is always a welcome reprieve.
Somebody's picked up food from the really good Mexican place with the vegetarian enchiladas that I enjoy.
We started eating kosher when Paul started dating my mom. Not that I mind it.
In elementary and middle school and the beginning of high school, I spent a lot of time at Jared's. His parents were sort of strict, I guess, because they made sure he ate kosher, although he confided to me in private that he hated it and as soon as he had freedom he was going to stop doing so. Regardless, I spent so much time over there some days that I ended up eating meals with the Kleinmans, which were always kosher and homemade.
It was nice, actually, because at some point the food I ate at home became something you heat up in the microwave and comes in a tiny plastic tray and is way too hot to eat at first. Homemade meals in our house stopped in middle school or so, not that I blame my mom because I understand what she had to go through. She was busy making sure we would be able to stay in our home.
It wouldn't be fair to hate her for that.
But sometimes I missed home-cooked meals. The Kleinmans were my second family at that point.
I wonder if Jared has kept his vow.
Knowing him, he probably has, although I don't really know if I know him anymore.
___________________________________________________________________________
After dinner, mom offers to wash the dishes. I try to protest, of course, but before I can get a word in edgewise Paul's dragged me out to the tiny fenced in-area that was marketed as a yard to my mom under the excuse of 'boys time'.
"Evan, I have something to tell you," he says in a low whisper.
I freeze.
Oh god, somebody's sick, right? Maybe that's why mom sounded a little quieter on the phone the other day. I shouldn't've just dismissed that as a bad connection. Of course she wouldn't tell me. Maybe that's what this is about: mom is dying and Paul is telling me that they don't want me around anymore because they determined that she caught it at the hospital working more shifts to provide for me and she wants to spend her last days in peace and not worrying about her son.
"Hey, Evan, can you hear me?" Paul's voice cuts back in. This isn't the first time he's seen me in the middle of an anxious spiral, but it's the first time we've been alone.
I nod, unable to get any words out.
"Okay, Evan, we're gonna breathe together, okay?"
Another nod.
"In-two-three-four, hold-two-three-four-five-six-seven, out-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight. Good job, Evan. Can we do that again?"
Slowly my breathing comes back under control, although I'm still shaking like a leaf and my mind is still racing.
"Do you want to go back inside and take an Antivan? I'll come with you."
I nod yes. Heidi still keeps a few of my pills around here, even though I don't live here anymore. I don't know how to feel about that.
Before he opens the door I grab his jacket.
"Um. Uh. Could you uh... tell me what it was you had... had to tell me? Or you don't have to, I mean you probably don't want to now, not after I freaked out all over you but I want to know becau-"
Paul cuts off my rambling. "It's fine, son, don't worry about it at all. Everything's fine. Now let's go get you your meds."
_______________________________________________________________________________
Something still feels strange, but I'm unable to put my finger on it, even as Paul leads me to the couch, even as mom sits down next to me and gives me a glass of water and one of the tablets and rubs my shoulder and tells me that everything is okay. Paul sits down on the couch with us after I'm looking significantly calmer and apologizes for causing a panic attack and the three of us sit there for another hour or two, watching Treehouse Masters reruns.
By the time I leave, I'm feeling better, although I still can't figure out what the strange feeling is and chalk it up to the remaining sparks of anxiety still jolting through my body.
The wind blows through my hair as I climb the stairs to my tiny apartment.
I focus on placing my feet carefully on the steps. I've always been worried that I'll slide my foot in between the slats or step on somewhere wet at night and fall over, spilling me and all of the things I'm carrying down the steps, and then I'll have to root around in the dark looking for my stuff because the little flashlight on my phone is dying.
The lamp in the hallway is turned on dimly and by the light of it I put down the bag of leftover vegetarian enchiladas and double check that the door is locked.
Good night.
Summary: Paul takes Evan out to their backyard to tell him something. Evan panics over what this could mean and is calmed by Paul, who leads him back inside to take medication. Before they go inside, Evan asks what Paul had to tell him. Paul reassures Evan that there's nothing to worry about and he'll tell him later.
A/N: Hello everybody!
I hope your day today has been a good one. Please remember to take care of yourself and take breaks if you are feeling overwhelmed. Thank you to everybody reading this book, it means a lot to me. Thank you to all of the people who have written comments. They make me smile.
I love you all. Please stay safe, everybody.
Your dearest author,
Angie
Word Count - 1320