Page 52 of You & I, Rewritten

Slumping against the cool wood paneling of the hallway, the blood begins pounding in my ears and my vision blurs and distorts everything in front of me, creating a soft and dizzying vignette. This forces me to push harder against the wall to ensure I remain semi-upright. I know I need to get my breathing under control but the vice-like grip that my anxiety has on my chest right now is making that nearly impossible. But the more I think about trying to breathe the more I realize that I just might never be able to breathe again. My chest rises and falls rapidly as I struggle to force air into my reluctant lungs and when it’s clear that I’m a failure at that as well, I claw the collar of my shirt, physically preparing to rip it off of me in the off chance I can’t jumpstart my traitorous lungs.

“Just breathe, Will,” Klair—who I could have sworn was just at her desk when the elevator doors opened—says, wrapping an arm around me. “I need you to breathe. Come on, Will…breathe with me.” She takes my hands in hers and looks me in the eye, physically forcing me to do what she says because it’s Klair and of course I can breathe when she tells me I have to. I mimic her dramatic inhales and long exhales until I’m somewhat in control again. Embarrassment barges to the forefront of my mind as I’ve just publicly had the worst panic attack I’d ever experienced—in my place of work, no less. Luckily, no one from our team seems to have noticed the two of us huddled in the hallway loudly exhaling into one another’s face.

“Tell me three things you can see, hear or smell.” Klair hasn’t had to do this for me since high school when I’d found out my grandmother passed away on our way to Chemistry. Much like now, the two of us sat, forehead-to-forehead in the middle of our crowded school hallway, until the relief of air rushed through me again and brought me back to a somewhat manageable reality.

I take a few more inhales, letting the air flow slowly and purposefully through flared nostrils. “I smell…” Exhale. “Um, I can smell your perfume,” I say, taking in the familiar sweet and floral scent that’s always been a Klair Thompson staple.

“That’s good…You gave that to me as a birthday gift years ago and I’ve worn it ever since, remember?” I do—she’s always been someone who’s incredibly appreciative and moved by the smallest of gestures. “What else, Will?” I can also smell the tuna fish sandwich she’d had for lunch but I don’t see any reason to bring that upnow.

“Um, I can hear Audra…” I say, straining to hear her calm but strong voice over the cubicle wall. “Yeah, she’s on the phone talking about…” Exhale. “…an upcoming marketing campaign.” Frankly, she doesn’t sound too happy but that’s neither here nor there.

Klair gives me a little space, perhaps sensing that I am breathing somewhat regularly at the moment but still keeps my hands in hers. “Excellent…what else?”

Movement just beyond her head catches my attention just as my vision returns to normal. Graham is pacing from one end of his office to the other with an open manuscript in his hand. His sleeves are rolled casually showing off his strong forearms and it seems that he’s undone a button or two at his collar.

Graham.

Just when I thought I’d remove the lump lodged in my throat, it returns with a vengeance like no other at the sight of Graham. I have no idea how I’ll be able to tell him about this.

“Lana terminated her contract.”

Confusion ripples across Klair’s face. “Wait…what?”

“Yeah, she called me when I was grabbing coffee with my dad,” I whisper, afraid to say it all out loud because once I do, there’s no going back.

“She said she’s done with me.”

Klair sits back on her heels and her expression softens. “Okay, first of all, she’s not done withyou,Will. I don’t know what could possibly be going on—and I’ll be honest, I’ve held my tongue for quite some time now about the vibe I’ve been getting from Little Miss Lana, but there’s got to be an explanation. Something you’re not seeing.”

I look back over at Graham, who’s now sitting on the arm of the leather chair across from his desk. He’s tapping a pen against the pages he’s holding, his subconscious tell that he’s irritated and instantly, I’m terrified he’s going to be upset with me. Or worse, disappointed.

“I don’t know. Like…I honestly didnotsee this coming, and I have no idea how to fix it.”

“Honestly, Will…this isn’t something you have tofix.Especially right now.” She stands up and brushes off the blush slacks she’s wearing. “Come on,” she says, extending a hand in my direction which I grab. Despite our substantial size difference, Klair yanks me to my feet with ease. “We clearly don’t have the full picture here, but I think it would be best to give Lana a few days to mull all of this over. Give her the space she deserves and needs—because I know you, Will. I know you’re dying to pick up the phone or show up at her place unannounced to smooth things over and that is the last thing anyone needs right now.”

We start walking toward our desks but Klair has never once let go of me. For most of my life, Klair has been the one constant, the hand that is always most comforting when held. Despite what I’ve now found with Graham, that hasn’t changed. She understands this side of me free of judgment or patronizing and has always known how to step in and help me find my way back through the darkness.

Graham may be my epic love, but Klair will always be my person.

“You’re right,” I say before being forced to part ways at our desks. “I know you’re right—I just really felt like this wasthe one, you know? The one that takes off and soars. The one that means something to someone.” I lean against our shared cubicle wall, resting my head against my forearms and feel the tension circulating throughout my body.

“And it still can be. Just trust me on this, Will…give Lana a moment to think this all through and give yourself the peace of mind in knowing that there is literally nothing that can be done to fix the situation right now.” She rubs my back before returning to her desk.

“I know it’s hard but do your best to just put this out of your mind today and wait until tomorrow to figure out what’s next, okay? Can you do that for me?”

We’re both liars if we think I’ll be able to do that but I nod my head in agreement anyway before sitting down at my own desk and willing something—anything, to distract me from the fact that my professional life feels like it’s hanging on by a thread.

* * *

After enduring more back-to-back meetings I truly feared would suck the life out of me, I slump down in my chair and give myself permission to momentarily think about Lana’s phone call. I know Klair is right and that something is clearly going on that I’m not privy to that warrants this sudden change. All I can do is hope that a little time will sort this all out. In the meantime, I owe it to Graham to fill him in—but with everything he’s got going on with his brother, I don’t want to be yet another thing he needs to deal with right now. Honestly, I don’t think I have it in me to even address it. I rub my temples, the beginning of a migraine threatening to wreck any and all of my plans for the remainder of the day. Ugh. Why dobothof these things have to be happening simultaneously? All I want to do is nose-dive into my bed, turn my phone off and just let the world fade away for a while. Is that too much to ask for?

Leaning back into my chair and stretching my arms and back, noting the stiffness from sitting for so long, I see the pop of pale yellow and an all too familiar script adhered to my desk phone out of the corner of my eye.

“Hey Klair, have you heard of Harbor Park?” I ask over our shared desk wall. She’s yet again bent over another manuscript and just shrugs her shoulders.Yeah, me neither.After a quick internet search, I see that Harbor Park is near Coney Island, the famous and historical New York amusement park where I’d spent many nights as a kid with my family.

I glance at the clock, noting that I have over three hours until I’m supposed to meet Graham. Despite my earlier desire for a relaxing evening, whatever he has up his sleeves sounds far more interesting.

* * *

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