I ash the cig near his shoes.
“Thanks,” I say automatically. “But it’s nothing to be proud of.”
The smile falters. The woman glances between us, sensing the shift.
“Oh,” he says quietly. “Right. Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” I mutter. “Enjoy your night.”
I turn before they can say anything else and walk around the corner of the building, where the light doesn’t reach as well.
There’s a low wall there. I lean against it and bring the cigarette back to my lips.
My hands are shaking.
My phone starts vibrating again. Buzz after buzz after buzz.
Tasha.
Za.
My team group chat.
I don’t look.
I take another drag trying to steady my breathing.
It doesn’t work.
My breaths come too quick and shallow. I press my back harder against the wall, grounding myself, but the feeling doesn’t ease.
My heart is racing.
My fingers go numb.
I fumble with my phone, trying to unlock it, trying to do something.
Another vibration.
This one’s different.
Mommy: You did your best hun.
That’s what breaks me.
My throat closes completely. I suck in a breath and it catches halfway, turns into a broken sound that I don’t recognize as my own. My eyes burn, then flood.
I drop the cigarette and it hits the ground, going out.
I slide down the wall until I’m crouched, knees pulled in, clutching my phone to my chest.
I cry.
I can’t breathe properly and I don’t care who hears me.
My chest spasms again. I gasp, drag in air that feels like it’s not enough. My hands claw at my dress, at my collarbone, like I can physically pull more oxygen into myself.
I feel stupid. All I can think about is the nights I didn’t sleep.
