Page 74 of The Happiness Blueprint
When we reach the bag-check point, I start to fucking sweat.
“Alex?” Klara’s hand is no longer in mine. Hadn’t realized I shook it off.
“Sorry. I’m fine. This isfine.”But it’s not fine. Obviously. Should have known anxiety would hit right about now. Wish I had brought my meds. Feverish chills, and lungs filled with something sticky, making it impossible to breathe. At least Klara knows not to touch me. Or ask silly questions that would make everything worse. Instead she stands there next to me, arms hanging by her sides, like a strong and steady pillar. As if wanting to remind me that the world isthere.Solid. Waiting for me once I come out of this anxiety attack. I feel my shoulders relax ever so slightly, and I bring myself to look at her.
“I’m not sure how to be supportive,” she says.
“I like this version of it. Thank you.”
“You always tell me I can do things. That I’m smart and strong enough. You have my back, so naturally I can’t even object to you doing those things for me. Counting carbs, snacks in the car, those little things that just support me, you know?”
Clear my throat but don’t move on to the next step, which would be to actually say something.
“Do you ever do those nice things to yourself? Tell yourself you can do stuff? That you’re good enough? That you care about people around you to the point of it almost killing you?”
Well. No. I don’t. Should I?
“I’ll say them to you, if you’d like, then.”
We stand next to each other, like trees in a forest, for a while. I handled it.I had an anxiety attack in public, and I handled it. It passed.So this is the worst that can happen. It feels freeing in a sense: I’ve imagined this moment as some major catastrophe that had to be avoided at all costs. The cost was me not living. But this—I can handle this. And if people look at me, then let them. Klara doesn’t flinch when people look at her equipment, her robot parts: she wears them proudly. Anxiety may not be something I should be proud of, but I certainly shouldn’t be ashamed. So I do what she’s just suggested, and I tell myself that I can do this, that I’m capable, that I can be here for the people I care about—Mamma and Pappa and Dan. And I am.
KLARA
How could I have known?
Google Search I’m Feeling Lucky
I’m not sure what just happened, but whatever it was, I felt it in my soul. I’ve made a mental note to ask Google about anxiety attacks. There must be more helpful strategies than to freeze as if a gun were pointed at me. I’m stuck to him now, won’t leave his side. There are articles called “9 Signs Your Partner Is Too Clingy and What to Do about It,” but walking right next to Alex feels better than the two-yard distance we used to have.Clingycan mean that you are too emotionally dependent, but it can also mean tight-fitting, like a garment. I’d like to be clingy to Alex like a comfy top would.
Alex’s parents come toward me. I recognize Dan next to them.
“Hello. I’m Alex’s mum.” She wastes no time waiting for an introduction.
“Thrilled to meet you! I’m sorry that this is where we all meet. I wish I could have known Alex’s brother.” Alex’s mum is small and round, the opposite of her tall, majestic son. She looks like what she lives off is love and cuddles. If comfort food were a person, she would be it. His dad reaches out a hand and nods as I take it. Approvingly, I think.
“Come.” Alex takes my hand and leads me. I don’t mind it. His grip is firm, swallowing up my small hand, fingers and a part of my wrist. Like a seasickness band on a boat trip, he quenches any nausea. I hope he feels the same when my hand is in his.
There are only a few people there. A man wearing a suit sits with his back to us; he’s not bothering, or daring, to turn around. Next to him a small legal team, the only ones chatting. I’ve never been to court before. Once I moved a discount sticker onto a full-price item in Waitrose, but no one noticed, and I escaped the eye of the law.
Alex pushes some papers into my hand.
“Take these. I’m just going to the bathroom one last time.” He pushes his hand through his hair and kind of shakes his head, sending the motion all the way down his tall body.
“Sure.”
I look down at the paper in front of me, which states the order of events and the people involved. I turn the page, and then I see it. My body reacts before my brain has even registered what I’m reading, my stomach turning itself inside out. I see it but I don’tunderstand it.
Defendant: Mateusz Holm.
In a trance I flick the pages in the file until I get to the one with the details of the vehicle. It’s a make, model and registration number I recognize.Our company van.
It’s too late to leave, too late to grab Alex and sayListen, shit is about to go down, but just hear me out.In fact, it’s too late for anything because Mateusz is suddenly next to me.
“Klara? What are you doing here?” He utters a tense laugh and puts his hand on my shoulder, as if I’m a little child in an adult-only environment and he’s about to escort me out. The touch makes me jump, then shudder.
“Get off me,” I say, disgust in my voice. Mateusz looks at me with confusion.
“Why are you here? Is Peter here as well?” he says, looking around the room as if it would give a clue away. I look at the area between his eyebrows where a deep ridge has formed.
