“And what do you think?”I laugh, running my tongue over my wind-chapped lips.
“She’s really a nice girl, Levi,” my mom says, more than winded, coming to sit on a bench once we reach the sidewalk.
“Just nice?”
She attempts to playfully punch me in the arm, but I move.“No, she’s great.Confident, sweet, funny, pretty...the whole package!I can see why you’re so smitten with her.”
“Who says I’m smitten with her?”
“Just about anyone who has seen you two together.”Her comment gives me equal parts happiness and anxiety.Butterflies and bees.Flutters and stings.For the hundredth time, I wish I could just be a normal guy.That I could like a girl, she could like me, and everything would work out.But my anxiety undoes me every time I get close to someone.I can’t do that again.
I look up to see an unmarked black car in the distance and check my phone to see if it’s ours.
“The car’s here,” I extend a hand to help my mom from the bench.She laughs before telling me that she’s not that old yet.The car pulls to the side, and I hold open the door for her to get in.
“You know, she still loves you too,” my mom says, slipping into the car without another word.I climb in behind her and we drive the next fifteen minutes to her hotel in near silence.When the car stops outside of the big hotel doors, she says, “Don’t get out.”
“Mom, let me get the door for you.”
“No, I don’t know where Tim, Tate, and Callie are, and they’re dead set on their presence being a surprise, so you better not say anything.”
I toss my hands in my lap.“I won’t.”
“Okay, I’ll text you later.I love you,” she says, sliding from the car.
“I love you too.”
I check the time, it’s already past five in Tennessee, but once we’re a block away from the hotel I pull my phone out to call Tina.If I don’t do it now, then I might not ever.It rings a couple times and then she answers.
“Hi, Levi?You okay?”She probably thinks I’m in the middle of a panic attack, and historically, she would be right.I usually only call her when I’m so deep the only thing to pull me out is her counting backwards.
“I’m okay.I’m not having a panic attack.”
There is an audible whoosh of relief.“That’s good.What can I help you with?I’m just closing up for the night.”
I scratch at the incoming hair at the line of my jawbone.“I know that a while ago you said that if I don’t deal with the source of my panic attacks, they would never really go away...”
“That’s right.”
“Well, I think I’m ready to talk if you have time.”It comes out awkward and a little forced.
“I’m so happy you’re deciding to take this next step.I would love to help you.When would you like to start?”
“I’ll be in California for the next week, but if you’re open to it, can we start with a phone session?”
“Absolutely.I have a couple clients who are local but still prefer to do phone conferences.Are you available now?”
I look around at the empty cab and the driver.We’re about another twenty-five minutes—not accounting for traffic—from the house.It’s as good a time as any.
“Yeah, but I thought you were closing up?”
“I am, but it sounds like you’re ready to talk, so I’m ready to listen.Where do you want to start?”
