Page 64 of Trial Run

Ben frowned down at himself. Of course he was fully dressed. No matter how bad things got, he got dressed in the morning.

Twenty minutes later, his doorbell rang. Vanessa shoved past him, staggering under the weight of several canvas shopping bags with the handles looped over her arms. In her hands, she cradled two potted plants, which she set on his kitchen counter before rounding on him.

Her face was red with exertion and irritation, and her sharp green eyes pinned him in place.

“What is all this?” he asked.

“Shut up and listen to me for a few minutes without interrupting. I know you already think you’ve got this situation all figured out. But you haven’t been in the clinic the last week, so therefore, you know nothing.”

“Okay.” Ben shut his mouth, staring at her. Vanessa in full fury mode was something he’d rarely witnessed.

“‘All this’ is a fraction of what’s been pouring into the clinic.” She lifted one of the canvas bags and upended it onto his kitchen floor. Several dozen cards, letters, and wrapped gifts fell out of it, sliding to the floor with a swish.

“And this.” She dumped out the next bag. “And all of these.” With a flourish, she tossed the empty bags to the floor. A few cards skittered under the cabinets.

“Are those …”

“For you? Yes. They’re all for you. Would you like me to read you one? No, don’t answer that. I will.” She bent and picked up a random card, opening it with a fingernail.

“‘Dear Dr. Friedman, I’m so glad you’ve been able to return to work. Wishing you all the best.’ Here’s another. ‘You have our support, no matter what you’re going through. We are thinking of you and sending our love.’”

“Stop.” Ben held up a hand. “I get it.”

He cleared his throat. “It was very kind of people to send those. But I never wanted them to know in the first place. I don’t want their pity.”

She glared at him. “It’s not pity. It’s called support. It’s what people do when they care about one another.” She planted her hands on her hips. “Did it never occur to you that people would support you, as much as you’ve supported them all these years?”

“I—”

“And you teach them how to take care of themselves, but you refuse to do the same for yourself.”

He looked over her shoulder, out his kitchen window to avoid her gaze. “That thought had occurred to me lately. And not just about me. All of us need to take better care of ourselves.”

“Then listen to yourself. So you have problems, like the rest of the world does. What kind of example are you setting, shoving all your own issues down like this and hiding away in your house?”

“I know.” His voice came out sharper than he’d intended. “I know that’s what I’m doing. But I can’t do anything else. I tried to get better, and I failed. I read that stupid article and had a massive panic attack in front of Nell and her son. The worst I’dhad in months. I really thought …” He swallowed. “I thought I was dying.”

“Oh, Ben.” Her voice softened.

“And I’ve been taking my medicine and doing my breathing exercises and none of it worked. It’s … I’m afraid it’s stronger than me. I’ll never get better.” His voice broke off. Vanessa stayed silent, waiting for more.

“I broke up with her,” he added.

“No. You didn’t. Ben, you did not. Not because of a panic attack.”

“What else could I do? I’m not well enough to be with anyone right now. I’m not even sure I can go outside without it happening all over again.”

She raised a brow at him. “Have you been outside since that day?”

“No.”

“But you were, before. You were going to work every day. You were absolutely making progress. You’re not in the same place as you were a month ago.”

“I might be. I might be right back where I started.” He shoved a hand through his hair, grinding his palm against his forehead. “I’m sorry. I know I’m not making sense. I don’t know what would happen now, if I tried going out. I think I didn’t want to find out.”

Vanessa picked her way through the pile of cards on the floor, her pointed heels stabbing holes in a couple of the envelopes.

When she got close, she put a tentative hand on his forearm. “Would you like to find out, with a friend?”

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