Page 124 of The Spring in My Heart

Lux

I’m exhausted.

It’s 8:00 in the morning, and my heart continues to race. My belly keeps dipping, and if I don’t do something, I’ll go into a full-blown anxiety attack.

I couldn’t sleep last night after I slept most of the day yesterday. I cleaned my studio, mocked up some video ideas, and when I couldn’t think of anything else to do, I got in the car at four in the morning and drove to New York.

The sun rose as I strained my eyes while coasting through the New Jersey Turnpike with the music blaring. I couldn’t say what songs played, except when the DJ played an oldie but goodie and “I hate you so much right now” rang out from the speakers, I sang it at the top of my lungs and then turned the radio off and rode in silence the rest of the way.

As much as I wanted to go straight to Cam’s this morning, take a hot bath, and relax before my hell starts, I decided against it. After the tongue-lashing I got from him and Chase, I don’t want to thank them for anything.

I park my car at Big Apple and take the subway to 96th St. I walk to the park and head to the JKO trail in Central Park. It’s so cold the skin of my face feels like it’s shrinking. My pores are clinging to each other for body heat. Thankfully, I was smart enough to pack my goose-down jacket. The second I pass the entrance, I take off running like I have hellhounds on my tail. I want to put this week behind me and obliterate it from my memory.

Maybe it should be from the minute I heard Ayla talk about her mom. I wish I had stayed my ass in CJ’s room. I should have probably stayed home that day. I should’ve told Ollie what I heard. I should…

My brain goes blank because all the should’ves, would’ves, and could’ves are a byway into Anxietyville. It’s too late, anyway. The damage is done.

I run, harder than before, my breathing shallow, pushing my already tired body until I feel like I’m going to faceplant, but this is the best feeling. Right now, my sole worry is to survive this run. I have a new goal that has nothing to do with regrets about Ollie, guilt about failing Ayla, or annoyance about spending the day with Mateo.

I push myself to run harder than before, but I gasp for air, and my side begins to hurt. I’m not running in the correct posture, so the cold sneaks into my lungs, forcing me to slow and finally stop on my fourth lap around the trail like a car that ran out of gas on an incline. Luckily, I can lean on the rails of the Reservoir Bridge and gulp breaths of air.

Walkers and runners slow down and half-frown with that New Yorker’s aloof concern. They’re worried you may be in trouble, but at the same time, they want to mind their own business.

I mouth, “I’m okay,” and turn away, choosing a focal point over the water across from me into the city view. I use the mantra I wrote in one of my worst moments last night, and start chanting it in my head in an almost manic way.

Anxiety is a lying bitch.

I feel the fear and still persist.

I won’t dwell.

I choose to move on.

I lose myself in the view and the repetition until my alarm goes off. I look at my watch. It’s ten. It’s time to head back to Big Apple Mag. I walk back to the entrance and catch the subway. I check my phone, and there are new texts: Lauren, Chase, Adri, Cam, Ayla, my agent, and Mimi. I don’t even let myself savor the disappointment that none of them are from Ollie.

I go to the closest person to him.

Ayla

I’m so sorry.

I know you’re mad at me.

Papi won’t even look at me.

I really messed up.

I’m sorry I hurt you.

Don’t hate me. Pls.

My stomach twists, my heart tripping and landing 187 miles away in Baltimore. She is going through hell.

Me

He’s mad, but he loves you.

You will both get the chance to work it out.

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