Page 94 of Summertime Friends

My mom was there sitting on the couch sobbing, not a sound coming out of her. I had never seen anyone silently cry before. It’s rather terrifying. It pierced me to see her this way. A slam ofa door snapped my attention to where my dad’s bags used to be, but they were gone. He’s gone, too. No goodbye. No explanation. No looking back at me. No, nothing.

This time, in the nightmare of the memory, I’m not only the little girl—I’m my mom. Liam’s face and voice are those of my dad’s. The memory is playing out in a vision of what I fear will happen to me someday. I can’t—I can’t let it come true.

I don’t know how I ended up back at Liam’s place, but I do. I don’t remember getting up from that bench, collecting my belongings, or walking the few blocks.

I remember the ringing in my ears.

I remember my eyes going fuzzy.

I remember tossing up my breakfast.

I remember my brain going black.

Standing in Liam’s flat, in the middle of his kitchen, it’s as if the lights are turned back on. I take in my surroundings. I take in my body, starting with my feet, legs, stomach, arms, and head. The exact way my college therapist taught me.

I’m not in the nightmare.

I can prevent that nightmare.

I repeat the affirmations as I change into my running clothes, lace up my shoes, and exit Liam’s flat again.

With the pounding of the pavement below my feet, the summer sun on my face, and the humid air coursing through my lungs, I’m hopeful that clarity will come.

I throw myself onto Liam’s couch after when he calls me.

“Hey!” I answer the phone.

“Oi, love. I know we were supposed to get dinner with everyone tonight, but does tomorrow for brunch work instead?” he asks me.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Figured I’ll cook us dinner?” he asks. His voice is hesitant, or is that nervousness I hear in it? “Hold on, States.”

Liam is talking to someone in the background. Chatter that goes over my head as they discuss something about an interest rate.I enjoy seeing the interior of the places that Liam’s company is inquiring about, but outside of that, I’ve told him before, it’s in one ear and out the other.

“Still there?” I let out anuh-huh. “Dinner?”

“What are you planning to make?”

“You’ll see.” He laughs.

“What time will you be home?”

“Five latest. Gotta jump, but be hungry for dinner. . . and me.” I roll my eyes. I know he can’t see them, just like I can’t see the playful smirk that I know is on his face right now.

“You better do the same.”

“I’m famished. I love you.”

“See you later,” I say and hang up.

I kick my feet up over the edge of the couch, flipping through my book. Within pages, I fall asleep, dreams catching me quickly, exhausted from my run and panic attack.

“States, wake up,” Liam says. He’s gently shaking me. I rustle in the blanket. Fluttering my eyes open, I see him staring down at me.

“Fell asleep?”

“No. . .” I give a fake smile. “My run wore me out.”

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