“I’m only doing what your father asked me to do, Peter John. Don’t take that tone with me. And who is this boy? Why is he here?”
PJ ignores his mother’s questions and kneels in front of me. My breathing slowly returns to normal, and the alien’s attack has lessened. But I can’t get my heart rate back to normal. It’s beating so freaking fast. Fortunately, the fog in my head has cleared a little, and I am able to start thinking normally. That’s when it really sinks in what’s happening. I’m at PJ’s house. This was not how my perfect evening was supposed to go.
PJ reaches out and holds my hand. I’m still breathing into the brown paper bag, but when PJ takes my hand, I quickly glance up to see what his mother’s reaction is. Her arms are crossed tightly across her chest and her already pinched face turns to a sour frown.
“I see,” she says curtly, and quietly turns to walk away. I hear her climb the stairs, then…silence. I look into PJ’s eyes, and he doesn’t seem to care. His eyes are filled with only love and concern for me. He sits on the floor in front of me but never lets go of my hand. With my other hand, I continue to breathe into the paper bag. The alien goes mostly dormant, my breathing returns to normal, and my heart rate subsides. I start to feel like myself again, just extremely embarrassed. I remove the paper bag, and PJ hands me the glass of water. I drink the whole thing.
“How are you feeling?” he asks. “Can you talk?”
“I-I think I can. I’m okay now. Oh, PJ, I’m so sorry. I feel so ashamed of myself.”
“What do you have to be ashamed about? You were having a medical emergency. I’m just glad you didn’t have a stroke. I wasn’t sure what was happening to you. Was it a seizure? Do you know what’s wrong with you? Has this happened before?”
“PJ, this will sound strange, so please don’t judge me, but something is living inside of me. I call it the alien. Like I know it’s not an alien. But I’ve been thinking it’s a parasite? Maybe something laid eggs in me when I went swimming in the lake last summer? Sometimes, it feels like it is trying to claw its way out of me. I’m not making this up. Please, don’t think I’m crazy. I know it sounds crazy, and listening to myself say the words out loud, I hear it…it’s crazy!”
“That’s quite the imagination you have there, young man. I will give you that.” PJ’s father, now dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt, stands in the living room with us.
PJ quickly lets go of my hand and gets up to sit in another chair.
“You were having a panic attack, son, that’s all. There is no alien living inside you. I promise you that.”
“But, sir, what about the clawing, scratching sensation I get in my stomach? It truly feels like there is something inside me.”
“I understand you feel that way, but you must watch too many horror movies. What’s happening to you is called anxiety. You are suffering from acute anxiety, and it caused a panic attack. I can teach you some breathing exercises and small tricks to help you with this if it ever happens again. Would that be helpful to you?”
“Listen to him, Simon,” PJ says. “He’s a doctor; he knows what he is talking about.”
I close my eyes and count to ten. I’m completely embarrassed and ashamed. I’ve heard about panic attacks and anxiety before, but I never knew what they were exactly or that they could happen to me. So, there is no alien or parasite after all? All I want right now is for this night to be over.
I open my eyes, and I look up at PJ’s father. “Yes, please teach me.”
PJ, his father, and I sit around the table in their spacious, pristine kitchen. I had no idea that PJ’s family was rich. PJ never told me his father is a doctor. I guess there’s a lot I still don’t know about him. He doesn’t talk about his family much, and I don’t ask many questions. I’m sipping chamomile tea with lavender which his father has prepared for all three of us. The added lavender, according to PJ’s dad, has calming effects, and the combination is a winning brew.
PJ’s mother has not resurfaced, and I don’t think she will. She did not like seeing PJ hold my hand. PJ’s father, whose name is John, has now taught me some deep breathing exercises and a trick about how I can ground myself if I feel another panic attack coming on. I’m supposed to look around and find five things I can see. Four things I can touch. Three things I can hear. Two things I can smell. And one thing I can taste. Dr. John is not a psychologist. He’s a general practitioner, but apparently, he has had some experience with this before.
“Focus on what’s around you. What it looks like, the smell, the texture. It will help. I have many patients at my practice who use this technique. I’m afraid you are not special, Simon. Anxiety and panic disorders are very common these days.”
“Thank you, Dr. John,” I say appreciatively.
“Just John will be fine, Simon. So…let’s change subjects now. Do either of you boys want to tell me how you two know each other? PJ has never mentioned you.”
PJ goes red in the cheeks and looks away. He pushes a large crumb back and forth across the kitchen table and takes a deep breath.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, Dad. Simon’s my boyfriend.”
John squints his eyes at his son and pauses before he speaks. “Yes, PJ, I’m not naïve. I can see that. But how did you meet?”
PJ relaxes a bit. He flicks the crumb off the table and looks his father in the eyes. But before he can speak, I interject.
“We met at school, sir. I moved to Rockville over the summer, and PJ and I met on the first day of school. We went out for bubble tea.”
“And do your parents know about you dating my son?”
“They do.” I keep my answer simple. I’m not about to relate the story of my parents divorcing, my mom coming out and meeting Carole, then passing away.
John turns his attention back to his son. “I take it you were not at Suzi’s house tonight?”
PJ doesn’t say anything and looks down at the table.
