Page 61 of Ambiguous
“Hey,” Sam says quietly. “Are you okay?”
“No,” I admit, looking at the creepy aquatic environment. “All this water. What if the glass just, you know, gives way?”
“It’s not going to give way.” He gives me a reassuring pat. “Want me to hold your hand?”
“Yes,” I croak. My feet start working again.
He tugs me down a corridor to a dark room featuring tanks of octopi, and I almost die.
I spin around, tugging his hand. “Fuck, no. I can’t be in here.”
“We can leave if you like.” His kind eyes are on me. “But I thought this was about facing your fears, and you wanted to tap into that for the album.”
I take a deep breath. I can do this. I drop his hand.
“You’re not afraid to feel emotions, Julian.”
I’m not.
“Okay.” I take a step closer to the nearest tank that has an octopus in it. This small, swirling, tentacled thing with suction cups. It’s sitting in a corner. Well, I suppose it’s not sitting since it doesn’t have an arse, but it’s certainly parked there, and it seems to know that it’s the king.
Queen?
Nonbinary royalty?
Fuck, I know nothing about them except that they scare me.
Illogically. The way some people are scared of spiders.
“What’s going on with you right now?” Sam asks.
“I’m petrified. I’m reminded of my school trip.”
To his credit, he doesn’t roll his eyes. “Okay. I want to try something.” He looks over my shoulder and swivels his head. Then his voice lowers. “It’s just you and me here. No one else.” He takes my hand again. “Look at the octopus, take a deep breath, focus on your actual, physical body right now, and tell me what you’re feeling. Not what your brain is telling you to think you’re feeling. Understand the difference?”
I nod a few times, close my eyes, then open them again.
“I notice my hand in yours, and that feels safe.” He squeezes it but doesn’t say anything. “This room is cool and feels strange because of all the water. Like the water isn’t supposed to be here.” I think a moment. “I have this weight in my stomach. No, it’s higher than that. Lower than that. Actually, I’m chasing it around. This turbulent, heavy feeling.” I focus on the creature in the water in front of me, one of its tentacles waving lazily, like some current is rocking it. “Tightness in my chest. I can breathe, but it’s not easy. I don’t know how to explain it. I’m not asthmatic. It’s more that I have to remind myself to breathe.”
“Okay.”
“And I’m noticing this squishy creature seems to have these eyes that are…there.” A shudder racks me. “And tentacles.”
“Stay inyourbody.”
“Okay, right. My body. My body is…” I start internally scanning my body, starting at my toes. “My feet are fine, and my legs are fine.” I close my eyes and grin. “My nether bits and bobs are perked up because you’re around,” I admit. He squeezes my hand one more time and knocks me playfully with his shoulder but doesn’t say anything. “My arms are fine. Hand feels secure. Head?” I pause. “Hmm.”
“Hmm?”
“I’m beginning to think the fear isn’t in my head but in my torso somewhere.”
“In your gut?”
“Yes. But it moves.”
“To quote my yoga teacher, what happens if you accept that feeling? Because all feelings want is to be acknowledged. What happens if you let in that tightness in your chest and the roiling in your stomach. Just… let it exist. Don’t fight it.”
“Don’t fight it,” I whisper. “That’s a good song theme.”
