She blinked her beautiful eyes, casting them away from my face, as though embarrassed that I’d caught her staring at me.
But still, she breathed my name back to me in a morning—well, afternoon—greeting.
And for the first time, everything really did feel like it was going to be okay.
seven years ago
ELLIE
The walls were closing in on me.
Probably because they weren’t actually walls; they were boxes. And every time I blinked, they seemed to multiply.
My breaths came in short spurts, playing tricks on my mind. I was horizontal on my childhood bed, unmoving, but my pulse hammered. I was so aware of it. I was so aware of my entire body, the way it functioned, analyzing every part of it.
You’re fine, you’re fine, you’re fine.
They said the clots were lodged so deep in my lungs there wasn’t a risk of them moving and cutting off my air supply further, and the ultrasound of my legs was clear, meaning there weren’t any clots there that were at risk of traveling to join the ones already in my lungs.
You’re fine, you’re fine, you’re fine.
An elephant sat squarely on my chest, squeezing me, crushing me, and I couldn’t escape. I put my hand on my stomach, looking down my body to see it rising and falling as I took deep belly breaths.
See?Fine.
There was a twinge of pain in every inhale and a deep-seated tightness I worried would never leave.
But they wouldn’t have released me from the hospital if Iwasn’tfine. My treatment plan was already working. Which was good, of course, except I had to inject more of it—my medicine.
I had yet to do it alone, but I could. Iwould. As soon as I put a stop to this mini spiral I had going on.
It was nothing like what I’d experienced in the emergency room, when I’d waited for Sully and my mom to arrive. Alone, staring at fluorescent lighting, listening to nurses speak in hushed tones, as if I couldn’t hear what they were saying. As if I didn’t hear the fake brightness when they spoke directly to me. Like they didn’t want to quite let on that I was, in fact, having a medical emergency. They thought maybe I wasn’t panicking yet, and maybe it could stay that way, but they didn’t know I was completely knotted on the inside.
My breaths had been shallow, each one seemingly getting worse. And I’d kept wondering if I’d stop breathing altogether and whether Sully would make it before that happened.
He had. Sully eventually burst through the doors and told me everything was going to be okay.
My phone rang, and I snatched it off my bed beside me.
Relief trickled into my nervous system from the name on the screen.
“Sawyer.”
“Hi, baby.” The muffled sound of his breaths made mine come easier. “Have you taken your next dose yet?”
“No.” I closed my eyes. “I’m working through something here.”
I heard something like mattress springs as he moved. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”You’re fine, you’re fine, you’re fine.“Just trying to decide if I’m having an anxiety attack or another life-threatening emergency and I’m going to die.”
“You are not going to die,” he said, a lot calmer than he had the first time I’d said something similar.
He’d been telling me I wasn’t going to die for the past several days. At first, it had been more of a demand. Like I wasn’t allowed to die. Likehewouldn’t allow it. And then, once he understood what was happening, it became more reassuring.
Technically, I was lucky.
I knew I was lucky, having the best-case variety of a medical emergency.
