Page 33 of Again with Feeling

He shook his head; he was still covering his face.

“Do you want some water?”

He shook his head again.

“Would it help if I had a panic attack too?”

He let out a noise that wasn’t quite a laugh.

“Because I’m really good at them,” I said. “Like, I might have the world record. One time I had a panic attack about having panic attacks. I think that’s a meta-panic attack.”

When Bobby spoke, his voice was rough. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Why are you sorry?”

He didn’t answer.

“You’re human,” I said. “Humans have emotions. They get overwhelmed. Sometimes, there’s just a lot going on, and it ends up, you know, having an effect.”

Bobby’s nod was mechanical. He spoke in the low, measured tones of someone trying too hard to explain. “I haven’t been sleeping. I haven’t been getting enough sleep, I mean. The new apartment, the move, Kiefer—” He stopped, and it was a while before he tried again. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I couldn’t—I felt like I couldn’t say anything, like I couldn’t talk, and the harder I tried, the worse it got.”

I eased away from him, making sure he could stay upright on his own. Then, facing him, I took his hand in mine and eased it away from his face. He had nice hands; that was one of the things I’d noticed about him early on. And his hands fit mine just right. That was another of those things I’d realized. I squeezed, and I waited until he looked at me. It was a strangely hangdog look, his head still down, his eyes wary, as though I might have been waiting for this moment of vulnerability to—what? Hurt him? Mock him?

With a smile, I said, “Welcome to Crazy Town. Population two.”

Behind us, Fox shouted like someone at the end of their rope, “Because pumping their legs gets the bad air out! I don’t have to explain science to you!”

“Uh, population six,” I said.

Bobby’s answering smile was wan, lusterless. Not the goofy grin I’d come to—

I almost said I’d come to love.

“I do think you should talk to a doctor,” I said. “About not sleeping. And, if you want, about this. They can give you a prescription in case it happens again.”

Bobby didn’t say anything, but eventually, he nodded.

“And if you’re stressed about stuff, Bobby, you know you can talk to me, right? I mean, I recognize that, uh, earlier today was not my best look. But you’re my best friend. Of course I wantto know what’s going on in your life. I’m a very good sounding board. Plus it’s a great, um, reason to take a break from writing.”

He nodded again slowly.

“Oh, and we really need to figure out what’s going on with Keme, because I don’t like how quickly he jumped to prescription meds.”

Bobby shook his head, a wavery movement that looked punch drunk more than anything, and managed to say, “Yeah, okay.”

“Are you okay?” I asked.

He licked his lips. For a moment, I had the strangest sensation that he was about to say something. But then his expression changed, and all he did was nod.

“Want to be my bodyguard while we wait for a tow truck?” I asked.

He nodded. And, to my surprise, he held my hand all the way back to join the Last Picks.

Chapter 11

The next morning, I got up early and got to work.

Earlyish.

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