Page 99 of Catching Feeling

“W-what?” I stammer. Hot, fresh tears fall from my eyes, making the room blur further.

This call feels all too familiar, like the night that my dad died all over again. The memories from that night come rushing back in thick, fragmented pieces that seem to embed themselves in my skin.

Suddenly, I can’t seem to take a full breath. My chest feels tight, like the air has been completely sucked from my lungs. I think I’m at the beginning of a panic attack. It’s not the first time in my life that I’ve had one, but I’ve forgotten how debilitating it can be.

Reese’s hand is on my back, rubbing soothingly as he says my name, but I can’t even form a word right now. I’m too busy trying to suck in air.

“Breathe for me, baby. One in, one out.” He places my free hand on his chest, helping me breathe in a slow rhythm with him. I follow his instructions and take a few deep breaths as the woman’s voice in my ear calls my name, over and over, calling me out of my panic fog.

“Ms. Brentwood? Are you there?”

I swallow. “Y-yes, I’m h-e-ere.”

Focusing on Reese’s hand and the steady, soothing motion, I breathe, one in and one out.

“Your mother is stable, Vivienne, but she’s sustained some serious injuries that will require further evaluation and possible intervention. Due to the nature of the trauma, the details of her status are evolving and not much more information can be given accurately over the phone as a result,” the nurse says gently, a single sentence that has me clutching the phone so tightly my knuckles hurt.

A sob racks my body, and I seal my hand to my mouth to stop it from escaping.

She’s okay. She’s not gone. She’s still here.

I just… I don’t understand what’s happening. Dread courses through my body, and I’m shaking so badly that my teeth are chattering.

“I know you must be scared right now, but she’s in great hands here. The doctor believes she may have a broken collarbone and wrist. She has a gash on her forehead that required stitches, and they’d like to do an MRI to rule out any bleeding in the brain, but no life-threatening injuries. They’ll know more once they complete the additional testing.” She pauses, and I use the moment to suck in a desperate breath, filling my burning lungs. “She told us you’re currently out of the country?”

I feel my chest tightening again. I’m in another country, and my mom… I left, and now she’s hurt, and I can’t be there. “I am…” I mumble quietly, guilt swallowing my panic.

“The jet will be ready in thirty,” Reese says from beside me. “We’ll be there in six hours.”

I nod like the woman on the other end of the phone can see it. I’m just… in my head. I’m not thinking clearly. I move from the bed numbly and start to search for my clothes, keeping the phone between my ear and shoulder as the nurse speaks. “We’ll see you whenever you get here, Vivienne. It’s going to be okay. Please travel safely. If there’s an emergency or change in her condition, we’ll contact you directly.”

“T-thank you,” I say, then drop the phone onto the bed. I don’t even think I hit the End button in my blind hurry to find my clothes and start putting them on. I have to pack all of my things up and?—

“Viv.”

I glance up, and Reese is in front of me, reaching for me. Suddenly, I’m pulled against his body as everything inside of me spills over, and I begin to sob into the plane of his chest. Deep, heart-aching moans shake my body.

I could’ve lost her. I lost my dad, and I almost just lost my mom. I feel myself spiraling, falling deeper and deeper into that shut-down space in my head, and it feels nearly impossible to pull myself back out. I’m trying not to let it overcome me, but I’m so scared, and I feel so guilty.

I stand there frozen, unsure of what to do next, while Reese gets our bags together. I just need to get to my mom. It dawns on me that I didn’t even ask what happened. Why was my mom in a car?

Reese kneels in front of me, sliding my underwear up my legs, followed by a pair of leggings, before gently slipping my sandals on my feet. He helps me into my bra and a clean Spaced Out shirt, then places a swift kiss to my forehead once he’s gotten me dressed.

Because I don’t think I could have done something so basic for myself right now even if I tried.

I hardly remember him walking me to the car and putting me inside. I’m still numb as I stare out of the window into the inky darkness. The landscape I found so exciting just yesterday now looks bleak.

All I can focus on is my fear and the growing guilt that feels like it’s suffocating me.

I go through the motions as we deboard and drive to the hospital, my gut churning with worry and anxiety the whole way. It feels like I’ve spent the entire time trying not to get sick or worry myself to death.

We burst through the front entrance of the hospital roughly seven hours after receiving the phone call. Every moment since then has been torture. I know they said that she’s okay, but I want to see her myself. I need to see her. Now that we’re here, I just want to see her.

“Hi, we’re here to see Belinda Brentwood?” I tell the front desk attendant, who gives me a sympathetic smile. “I’m her daughter.”

She nods. “One second, please.”

Shivering, I run my hands up and down my arms to fight off the chill.

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