“Simon, I’m not mad at you. I’m not mad at Carole either. We talked, and I think I understand what happened today. There have been so many changes for you in such a short period of time. I know you are a sensitive boy, and sometimes change is scary. But you can’t skip school. You have always been such a good student. Now, that being said, we are willing to forget all this. Carole and I will give you a one-time pass if it doesn’t happen again. Do you understand? Do you promise to go to school tomorrow?”
“I do, Mom, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I promise.”
“Okay, Little…Simon, I trust you. I’m sorry my work is keeping me so busy. My boss has promised to hire more staff and take some of this burden off me. I’m confident when this happens, I won’t be working the long hours and coming home with these bone-crushing headaches. Can you hold on a bit longer?”
“Yes, I can do that,” I say with a small smile.
“Also, try and enjoy your new school. You only get one senior year. There’s nothing wrong with making a few new friends. Neel and Mags will always be there, but truly you can never have too many friends. Maybe you’ll even meet a nice girl who you’ll want to take out on a date sometime?”
“Mom!”
“All right, I don’t want to embarrass you. You are right about one thing. You aren’t a child anymore; you are almost an adult. But you’re my only child, and for so long it was only the two of us. I know I need to learn to start letting you go. You won’t be my Little Bug forever. There, I said it, so sue me. I can’t help it. You’ll be gone, married, and having kids of your own soon. Give me this time.”
With that, she kisses the top of my head. “Good night.” She crosses the hall to her room.
“Good night, Simon,” Carole calls, closing the bedroom door. “Everything will be okay. Tomorrow’s a new day.”
I set my new alarm clock for twenty minutes earlier than usual. I set the old one for ten minutes after that. I think of the words Carole said earlier today—belt and suspenders—and I smile to myself. I peel off my T-shirt, shorts, and socks and get into bed. I skip brushing my teeth; I’ll do it tomorrow. Sammy emerges from under the bed and stretches out beside me. What a day! I feel like I lived a lifetime in only twenty-four hours. I pick up my book and find where I left off. It isn’t long before I fall asleep with the light on, glasses sliding down my nose, and the book on my chest.
7
Late-night Texts
Iwake with a jolt and glance at the clock: 11:22 p.m. With each beat, my heart attempts to burst from my chest. Maybe tonight is the night I die before ever starting my senior year. My collar is damp with sweat, and I’m immobilized by terror. My lungs won’t expand to let air in. I look from one clock to the next. Each second stretches on like an hour. I squeeze my eyes closed and try to force a deep breath. I can’t.
“Help,” I whisper. “Someone help me.”
No one hears me; no one comes. Both clocks turn to 11:23. I’m still alive. I won’t die tonight.
I think the all-encompassing fear that has started taking over me is a sign of death getting closer. It could happen any night now. I take in a small breath of air, but I can’t seem to expand my lungs against the heavy weight pressing down on my chest. In a burst of panic, I shake my head and jump out of bed. I pace in circles around my room. Frantically, I scratch at the hives appearing rapidly on my arms, face, and chest. What is happening to me?
Pacing around the room, I notice that I can breathe after all, albeit difficult, labored breathing. Part of me wants to knock on Mom and Carole’s door and tell them what is happening or call an ambulance. Instead, I wait it out. I still can’t fully expand my chest cavity, but I’m breathing. I need to know that I’m okay. I sit on the edge of my bed and send a text to Mags.
Hey! Any chance you’re awake?
I wait a few minutes, but I don’t hear anything back. Duh! Of course, she’s asleep. I would have to call to wake her up which would, in turn, wake her parents and spark questions. I consider texting Neel but figure it will be the same situation. But I need to talk to someone. That’s when I remember Hector. I scroll through my contacts to find his number. It feels weird, wrong even, to text him. I don’t know him, but there isn’t anyone else, and he did give me his number. With a shaking hand, I type the following text.
Hi, it’s Simon from Starbucks this morning. Any chance you’re awake?
I don’t immediately hit send. Texting a stranger isn’t the smartest idea. It could open a Pandora’s box. But I remember how kind Hector was to me this morning when I needed help. Hector seems like the type of person who helps people. He could help me again. Or, he could say, I already helped you once today. Buzz off, asshole.
The fascinating thing that happens while I consider these scenarios is that my breathing returns to normal. Whatever took over me seems to be gone now. Weird. Only the itchy hives remain. I decide not to question what happened or why it happened and be grateful it is over. But I still need to deal with this text. I should erase it and go back to bed, but for some reason my finger hits send. There is no going back now.
Oh, no! What have I done? This whole day has been a train wreck of poor decisions. One after another, and I don’t even understand why I am making them. I hold my breath until I see the three dots appear on the screen. OMG! He’s writing back!
Hi Simon! What’s up? How are you feeling?
Wow! He is writing back. I can’t believe it. My palms are sweaty, but I immediately respond.
Sorry to bother you, I didn’t know who else to contact.
You OK? Tell me what’s up. It’s no bother.
Feeling like a sad charity case, I’m immediately embarrassed for reaching out. What the hell did I think I was doing? Texting some random stranger late at night! Are you there, Hector? It’s me, Simon, and I can’t breathe. We aren’t friends. I don’t know him, and he doesn’t know me! I decide not to tell him about being unable to breathe.
I’m good. I didn’t mean that part about not knowing who to contact. Just wanted to thank you again for the drink this morning. Are you sure I can’t pay you for it?
I told you, Simon, it’s not a problem. Are you sure you don’t want to talk about anything? Are you going to school tomorrow?
