The DJ plays a slow song.
“I kept confusing Tristan and Travis until I was seven, and even called Stasi Chloe’s name so many times that she once put jalapeño pepper juice in my toothpaste as a punishment.”
I cover my mouth and crack up. “No way!”
“Hell yeah that little demon did. Don’t let her fool you because she’s cute.”
I shake my head before moving in and leaning my head on his shoulder.
“It’ll take time to remember everyone’s name,” he continues, running his hand down the length of my back. “But me and you have got nothing but time, baby.”
His words, so sincere, so firm and unbendable, wrap around my heart, constraining it. This feels good.
Too good.
My mind begins to race, my breathing becomes more shallow.
No, no, not now.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” I say, pulling away.
He starts to move as well, to show me inside.
“No, I know where it is.” The song ends around us, and a few people start to move off of the dance floor. “Stay with your family. I’ll b-be right back,” I tell him as I do my best to stave off of the tightening inside of my chest.
I don’t wait, spinning on my heels and heading through the kitchen door toward the bathroom down the long hallway. Thankfully, everyone is outside or in the living room part of the house.
As soon as I close the door behind me, I let out a long rush of air.
“Please, please, please,” I beg my brain not to do this to me right now. Everything was going well.
But now I can’t control the racing of my heart or the sensation of moving further and further away from my body. My fingers grip the edges of the sink as my panic attack overtakes me.
I want to cry in frustration. Even when things are going well, my mind and body manage to act against me. This moment shouldn’t come as a surprise. Smaller panic attacks have been happening with more frequency over the past couple of weeks.
Once again, it seems like the better my life is going, something comes up to snatch my happiness away. This time it’s my own mind.
I don’t know how much time passes before my heart stops feeling like it’s going to explode and the racing in my brain begins to slow. The last thing I want is to go out there to Andreas’ family looking completely disheveled.
I can only imagine what they would think of me if I had a panic attack out of nowhere in front of them.
God, I hope none of them ever saw that video of me from graduation.
When my father’s voice about how much of an embarrassment that was for his colleagues to see plays in my head, I squeeze my eyes shut and pinch the bridge of my nose.
“He’s not here now,” I remind myself. My parents are in Michigan, not here, and their opinion of my failures doesn’t matter.
Knowing I’ve been in the bathroom too long, I grab the handle, but pause before opening it. I inhale until my lungs feel like they’re about to burst. Then I make myself push the air out little by little. After doing this about five times, I feel normal enough to return the party.
Except when I open the door, I walk directly into a brick wall.
“Ah!”
Correction, not a wall.
A man.
I immediately jump back when he doesn’t move. Instead, he looks me up and down, slowly, languidly. It’s not until he lifts his head fully that I can see his whole face.
