Page 30 of Light in the Dark
"What do you see, Ember? Tell me three things you see."
“B-b-bl—blue s-s-ky," I stammer, barely able to even whisper.
"Great, honey. What else? Two more things you see."
"Grass. Green."
"Yes, perfect. One more thing you see."
"H-h-hands. Your hands." I grab one of his hands and put it in my line of sight. Trace a thin white line creasing the webbing on the back between finger and thumb. "Scars." I flip his hand, touch the hard knot of callus at the base of his middle finger. "Calluses."
“Good, honey, very good." He lets me hold his hand, touch his calluses, count his scars. "Four things you hear."
"Your—your voice." The shaking is less violent, now. "Cars. A—a bird singing. A man laughing."
"Good job, Ember. Good. Now take five deep breaths. I'll count with you, okay? Ready?" I nod. "One."
The first breath is more of a shudder, but my lungs fill.
"Hold it—one…two…three…four…five. Now let it out. One…two…three…four…five."
Without any sense of hurry, he guides me through four more repetitions—inhale as fully as I can, hold it for five and exhale for five.
By the time I've done it five times, I can see, hear, and breathe. But I also feel a full-on ugly cry breakdown building within me, and I know I can't hold it off for long.
I grip his thick forearm, nails digging in. "Take me somewhere, please." My voice is a hiss. "I can't—I can't do it here, Felix. I can't. I can't."
"Can't do what here?"
I swallow hard. "Cry."
"Okay, I got you. I got you." He stands up, effortlessly lifting me with him. His chest is a broad, firm expanse against my cheek, and I feel his heartbeat under my ear—thudthud—thudthud—thudthud.
Up, and plasticky fake leather greets the backs of my thighs. A seatbelt clicks into place across my chest. He goes to step down, and the thought of not having physical contact with him makes me panic all over again.
"Don't!" I squeak, shrill and wild. "Don't let go. Don't let go. Please don’t let go, Felix."
"Okay, no problem. I've got you. I won't let go, I promise." His voice is calm and soothing. He slides and twists past me to sit on the bench beside me without letting go of my hand, takes his seat behind the wheel; transfers his grip on my hand to his right hand and buckles up and starts the engine with his left. "I've got you, Ember. I won't let go."
He shifts with his left hand and braces the wheel with his knee.
"Close your eyes and count your breaths. Just count them. See how high you can go before you lose count."
Once again, my hand is cradled in his, nestled like a baby bird. I open my hand, thread my fingers through his. Close my eyes and count my breaths. One…two…three…I get to fifty, and then sixty. The brakes squeal and hiss, and I have to start over.
I lose track of how many times I have to start over, but holding his hand and counting my breaths keeps me grounded, helps me fend off the impending breakdown.
The one I've been denying and avoiding for six fucking months.
It's happening, and I can’t stop it, and Felix Crowe, a man I just met and barely know, to whom I am attracted to a silly degree, is about to witness it.
Brakes squeal again, and the truck halts. The motor goes silent. Felix slides toward me, scoops me onto his lap. Shimmies sideways and shoves open the door, descends with me in his arms. I catch the corner of the truck's door as we go down and slam it closed.
Tears are welling, eyes burning, salt haze blurring my vision. I cling to his neck, bury my face in his thick, hard shoulder.
"Felix Crowe, you can't park that big thing on this little street," an old, shaky female voice says.
"With all due respect, Mrs. McCready," Felix growls, "fuck off and mind your own goddamn business."
