Page 66 of Meet Me at the Metro

“Hmm?”

“I need you to get Sammy to cover my shift. Something’s come up.”

“Like hell it has! You’re not walking out on me this morning. You already showed up late.”

“I’ve got shit I’ve gotta settle.”

“Not on my clock, you don’t.”

“You told me that I need to deal with my family, and that’s what I’m doing. Call Sammy. I can pick up an extra shift later this week.”

An extra shift is the last thing I want to commit to, but I need to try to get this resolved before the registration slots really do close up. Kimberley’s been doing this advising gig for years now, and I know she has the ability to make an exception—just this once. Nora had it in her to forgive me for my shitty behavior toward her, so helping her with this is the least I can do.

“You better have your arse in here Saturday morning!” Rob warns. “9:00 A.M.Sharp. No later.”

I don’t give him the satisfaction of a reply as I hurry outside and go straight to the train station. The ride to campus is so much shorter than I need it to be, and every mile I travel closer has another knot twisting in my stomach. As the stone architecture of the school appears ahead of me, I’m sure that I’m going to be sick.

What in the actual hell do I think I’m doing right now?

My chest tightens as anticipation and fear seize control over my mind and steal every ounce of self-preservation from me. I always hate the way this cruel, familiar haze of anxiety settles over me. I hate how it smothers me, stealing every ounce of oxygen it doesn’t fucking deserve. I never ask for it, never dare welcome the clammy palms and shaky fingers that accompany it.

Fuck, I’m about to have a panic attack.

I find my feet stumbling against the pavement as a wave of dizziness washes over me. I reach out to the wall beside me and work on regaining my balance and steadying my breathing. I fight so hard to calm the rapid beat of my heart and rid my ears of their ringing, but I become a prisoner to the paralyzing memory too quickly to escape it.

Kimberley.

My stepbrother.

My dad.

That day…

The cold winter breeze whizzes against my skin as we make our way down the slick, wet pavement of the city sidewalk. Kimberley and my stepbrother walk ahead of us, laughing at the stupid joke my Dad just made. I’m filled with absolute gratitude as I watch them.

Our lives look so much different now than before they came into the picture six years ago.

Dad’s hand finds my back, and I look over to him. He smiles at me knowingly, like he reads and shares my exact thoughts. Everything feels so complete with the four of us.

“Almost there,” Kimberley croons as our yearly destination appears ahead.

This place has become my absolute favorite family tradition…

I force myself to breathe slowly, in and out, over and over again, until my tingling nerves finally start to settle. I remind myself that I’m not physically reliving that day again. I remind myself that the deepest pain I’ll ever feel has already been felt.

The worst is over now. However, if I could, I’d carve this memory out of my brain forever.

I allow my back to fall against the firm foundation of the school’s walls and bring my eyes to the bright, clear skies above me. Sunny days are so rare here in the fall, so I let myself appreciate the endless shade of blue and find myself recognizing its similarity to Nora’s eyes.

I could do this for her.

I’m surprised at how quickly my anxiety begins to settle. I press a cigarette between my lips and suck in the nicotine like its oxygen, allowing it to numb some more of my worries. I finish the entire thing before mustering the strength to start walking across the main courtyard of the college.

A dry, musty smell hits my nostrils as soon as I take my first step inside the admissions office. Old armchairs and Victorian-style chaises fill the dimly lit space. My eyes do a once over ofthe large, open room, noticing the tapestry rugs lying along its hardwood floors and the unlit fireplace against the back wall.

Now that my memory of this place is refreshed, I remember why I’ve avoided visits to this part of campus since enrolling here. It looks about as unpleasant as I feel having to come here today.

I force myself to focus on its only appealing feature as I make my way over to the large, floor-to-ceiling window and stare off into the lush grass of the courtyard outside. I fixate my gaze on the students passing along the sidewalk and studying beneath the trees, refusing to think about anything other than my objective here today.

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