“Good job. Okay, can you tell me four things you can touch?”
Trying my best to focus, I start swinging my hands around. “Floor.” My hands settle on the cold, hard floor beneath us, my body finally recognizing another temperature other than boiling. “Nose.” I touch the tip of my finger to the tip of my nose. “Lips.” I let my finger slide down my face until it reaches those lips, just to make sure they’re still there. “You.” I hold his wrist in my hand, counting the beats of his pulse.
“You’re doing so good, Dani. Now give me three things you can hear.”
“Pulse. Clock. Laughter.” Laughter drifts through the open window in the bathroom. It sounds specifically like children’s laughter.
“Two things you can smell.”
I don’t hesitate. “Lavender. Musk.”
His features are more prominent now, so I see the edges of his lips twist into a grin.
“You’re almost done, Dani. One thing you can taste.”
I lick my lips, the flavor of my ChapStick coating my tongue. “Cherry.”
He takes a few deep breaths, motioning for me to do the same, and I do.
The trembling in my hands subsides and I can finally hear myself think over the sounds of my heartbeat.
“How do you feel?” he asks, scanning every inch of my face twice over.
“Better.” And it’s not a lie. I’m so grateful for my breaths coming easier that I don’t have the emotional capacity to feel embarrassed that Micah is seeing me like this. “Where are we?”
The bathroom, though nice, feels very clinical. It’s a stark white and there are no personal touches anywhere.
“We were right by a hotel my boy owns. I got him to get us into a room real quick.”
I must’ve been pretty bad if I didn’t notice any of that.
“Got it. Well, tell him I said thank you.” The shame is starting to creep into my consciousness now.
“Don’t do that, Storm.”
My head flies up at his authoritative voice. “Don’t do what?”
“Don’t be ashamed of this. You’re safe with me.”
And I know he means that. I feel it every time we’re together and even when we’re not. I nod my acknowledgment, and he relaxes.
Let go, Dani. Let him be there for you.
Hot tears scorch my face, and as fast as I swipe them away, more keep coming.
“Is it okay if I touch you?”
I nod vehemently and he pulls me into him, burying my head against his chest and planting soft kisses on the top of my scalp.
“None of it is your fault.”
That’s all he says. It might take some time for me to believe that, but I want to get there. I let myself be held by him for a while longer, not even caring if my makeup is transferring onto his shirt.
When the tears finally stop falling, I sit up and watch in awe as Micah gracefully moves around the bathroom, running a washcloth under water and using it to dab the tears from my face. He steps out to give me privacy to touch up my makeup.
I pop a pain pill when the signs of a tension headache start showing and take a minute to observe the woman in the mirror. She looks like hell, but she feels lighter. That’s a start.
When I open the bathroom door, Micah is sitting on the edge of the bed concentrating on something on his phone. He looks up and he doesn’t look at me like a disaster. He looks at me like a gift.
