Page 78 of The Life-Changing Magic of Falling in Love

I point to the doughnut lying between us on the floor. ‘Five-second rule. Can’t eat it now.’

She follows my gaze and then grins. ‘Ha! You’re funny, George. I didn’t know that about you. Keep watching the bag. The doughnut stays where it is until I clean up. The last thing you need right now is to confuse your system with a sugar-rush.’

Yet more time passes and it occurs to me I would do a lot to stay in this brave new world. This magical world, where it’s just me and Ashleigh, sitting on the floor together, breathing. I maintain my gaze on her tai-chi cloud-hands movement of the bag like she instructed and allow myself to believe I only have this one job. This job of watching the bag and letting the breathing come in and out of my body.

And all the while she acts as if it is no big deal.

As if everyone goes around one step away from this.

As if she really hasn’t saved my life, or at least saved me from face-planting into the sofa and passing out from panic and alcohol consumption.

The more my brain starts to function past it all, the easier it is for the humiliation of the day to take its seat at the top of the table.

‘Don’t,’ Ashleigh says with a firm shake of her head as if she can sense it banging on the door of my brain. ‘Don’t let yourself go there and don’t you dare apologise. If anyone needs to apologise it should be me. I’m not supposed to be here. You would never have expected me to be here. All you did was walk into your own apartment, George. I’m so sorry I triggered you into having a panic attack.’

‘Not you,’ I murmur as she brings her hands to a stop and lays them and the bag gracefully in her lap. ‘It was the smell of the bleach. Been a while since I smelled it and it was the final straw on an indescribably shitty day.’ And just like that my heart skips several beats and I think blind panic must enter my eyes because Ashleigh leans forward and grabs a hold of my hand again.

‘Sometimes the hungry panic wants another bite so let’s try this instead,’ she soothes. ‘Name three things you can see.’

‘Huh?’

‘Real fast, tell me the first three things you see.’

‘Um, a plant. Another plant, wait—am I seeing double?’

‘Keep going, one more.’

My gaze shoots back to her. ‘You,’ I say.

She blinks and then rushes on with, ‘Now name three things you can hear.’

‘Hear?’

‘George.’

She sounds a little exasperated but I like it. Like hearing her. So, I try harder to please. ‘The whir of the air-con, the hum of my drier … and … you.’

She blinks again as into the new silence the drier clacks off.

‘I’ll explain about that in a minute,’ she says, waving her free hand in the direction of the drier. ‘Now name me three things you can touch.’

‘The floor,’ I say and then something else catches my attention, and my free hand automatically reaches out to pick the unexpected object up. ‘A white feather?’ I glance at her to check this isn’t some new twist of my imagination and see that she’s staring down at it too. I can’t quite work out the expression on her face, but I realise the hand still touching mine, has tightened. ‘You,’ I whisper, moving my hand so that it’s now gently gripping hers.

‘What?’

My answer must permeate because her startled gaze bounces straight up to mine and I notice the tip of her tongue come out to swipe over her bottom lip. ‘I can feel you,’ I repeat and then realising how that must sound, I add, ‘I mean – you know – not as in what you thought earlier but as in?—’

‘The tips of your ears have gone red. Did you know they do that?’ she says and there’s a new light of confidence back in her eyes. ‘I think by your breathing it’s started to work. Congratulations on bringing yourself successfully back into the present.’

I blow out a breath and it feels utterly normal. ‘Thank you.’

‘No problem. How do you feel? Probably like you could sleep for a year, right?’

I ignore the fact that as she’s been talking, she’s smoothly extricated her hand from mine. ‘Yes. How do you know all this?’

‘Oh.’ She efficiently plucks the white feather out of my other hand and shoves it into her bag before picking up the doughnut and rising to her feet. ‘I have some experience. How about I make you a cup of tea?’

I flashback to when Anya offered to make me tea after the first time this happened but this time it somehow feels more like out of concern and a real need to help me feel better. ‘Actually, that sounds really good.’

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