Page 39 of Alarm Fatigue

Choosing comfort is a no-brainer since it is merely two in the morning. I go with a sweatsuit that Hannah bought me. It has the advantage of being both trendy and a color that does not reveal how much cat hair may or may not be attached to me. I turn on the television to “The Rockford Files” for background noise while I fix myself an omelette.

I sit down to eat and think about what is in store over the next several days. I have the week off and Mark and I are due to spend some time together. Maybe we could go on an actual date? He has agreed to dinner with my family, which of course includes Amalie. I wait for a sense of foreboding or dread, but surprisingly it does not come. The timer on my watch vibrates and I gather up a sandwich I made him and water bottle for the car. It feels like a mom move to pack him as sandwich, rather than something a girlfriend would do, but at the same time the idea of him being hungry makes me anxious. Brushing aside a rising thought about Freud, I head out to the car.

I park at the hourly lot at Dulles airport and go inside to the baggage claim area. My phone buzzes indicating a message.

Mark: We landed and my bags

should go to carousel 4 See you there?

Me: Yes. I am walking to 4 now

I tuck my phone into my pocket when it vibrates again. Pulling it back out, I smile at the heart emoji he has texted. I head over to the baggage claim and wait, my heart fluttering in my chest. I wait for the ensuing anxiety, for the barrage of negativity, but it does not come. At least not this time. For now, I am just really looking forward to seeing him again. I say a prayer of thanks when I see his dark hair and then his face among the arriving passengers. Surprising myself, I break into a run.

As I lock my eyes with his, my heart fills with warmth and I practically knock him over throwing my arms around him and squarely planting a kiss on the side of his neck. My face feels wet and it is then I notice that, even though I am smiling, tears are streaming down my face. How embarrassing. And there it is, the voice starts playing in my head about reining it in, not being so obvious, that being in control is more attractive than my ugly crying face and I just hug him harder trying to push it away.

Mark must feel the shift in me as he takes a half step back and puts his hands on my shoulders and, looking concerned, he places a hand under my jaw, gently holding my face.

“Rachel, what is it?”

“Nothing. I think I am just really happy?”

“You’re sure?” he frowns, looking worried.

“Yes, I am just so relieved to have you home.” Maybe if you want to start something new, you should tell him how you really are. “Actually I am embarrassed to be so emotional and now my brain is attacking me for not keeping it together. And I have a voice telling me I have an ugly crying face.” Trying for a light chuckle it almost comes out as a sob.

He presses his forehead to mine and wipes my tears with his thumbs. “I am here now, okay? And your face is so beautiful you took my breath away when I saw you. And thank you for telling me how you really feel.”

I hug him again, hard.

“Mark, may I take you home now?”

He hugs me to him, and I feel his heartbeat against my own. “Yes. Let’s get my bags and go.”

On the ride home he is quiet. I steal a few glances to see if he has fallen asleep but he is just sitting there. Breathing quietly.

“Everything okay?” I ask. “If you are hungry I made a sandwich and then I worried I was being more maternal than girlfriend material but what would I know about that? But the thought of you being hungry made me anxious, which is, now that I am saying it out loud, rather maternal and…” I trail off when I hear his low chuckle.

“I wouldn’t mind a sandwich actually. The kosher food on that flight was inedible.”

“Since when did you care about kosher food?”

“I am trying some things out.”

“I see.” After he says nothing I venture, “You know as long as you don’t eat a cheeseburger and then promptly try to make out with me afterwards, I do not want you to feel that you have to create a whole upheaval in your life for my sake. Not that I think you are doing this just for me. I just mean it is a huge pain in the ass to keep kosher, especially in a place like D.C. where we have a total of five restaurants and a handful of dedicated stores. I just do not want you to do anything you might…“

He interrupts me, “Rachel, the upheaval is long overdue.”

Since I am not entirely sure what he means by that it is my turn to lapse into silence. At least verbal silence. Is this my life now? My thoughts may either be spoken out loud until I am feeling I will make him question why he is bothering with me, or will my thoughts start attacking my peace of mind until I am driven to start the entire cycle again?

“Mark, I want you to feel like you have the right to be your usual grumpy self, but when you don’t talk I get nervous and—do you remember that brusk and confident colleague of yours named Rachel Lazarus? Well, that was all bullshit. I am a marshmallow made of emotions and insecurities.” He takes my right hand and kisses my fingertips one by one, which is distracting enough to help me ignore my mind in an instant. “Careful, I am driving.”

“Rachel.” That tone of voice.

“Mark?” I say weakly.

“I am going to tell you as many times as you need to hear it. You cannot scare me off. I see you,” and I feel his eyes on the side of my head, seeing me, “and I have loved you all along.”

Well that shut my brain down into stunned silence for the rest of the ride. We pull into Mark’s driveway and I say quietly, “I thought I would drop you and go home to take a nap for a bit and maybe we could meet later? Or if you are tired I can see you tomorrow?”

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