Page 133 of Men in Shorts

Colin’s warm hand met his shoulder. “Can you walk with me a wee bit? Maybe outside?”

“Shall I ring for an ambulance?” Marcus asked. “He was clutching his chest. Could it be a heart attack?”

Colin murmured to Andrew, “Is this like what happened Sunday before last?”

Andrew nodded again.But worse, so much worse. Oh God, all these people.

“Nae ambulance, thanks,” Colin told Marcus. Then he spoke again, this time to a woman to his right. Andrew could hear but a few words through the maelstrom in his head, something about “nice and quiet.”

Colin spoke his name softly. “We’re gonnae go to the manager’s office instead of outside. She’s bringing some water. Can you come with me?”

Andrew nodded a third time, his neck squeaking like rubber. He forced his eyes open, then walked with Colin toward the side of the restaurant. The crowd parted to let them through. His skin prickled at the assault of so many gazes—and phone cameras, no doubt.

“I want to go home,” he whispered to Colin.

“We will,” Colin said, “as soon as you’re feeling better.”

“I’m fine. I just drank too much.”

“Well, half that statement is true.” Colin put a steadying palm on Andrew’s back as the manager opened her office door.

Andrew paused at the threshold. The office was clean and spacious, with no dark corners. The worn leather sofa promised respite for his wobbly knees.

“Thank you,” he said to the manager as he slumped onto the couch. His heart was still racing, and his neck and shoulders felt full of live wires.

“Here’s your water and cloth,” she told Colin, “and also my card with my mobile number in case you need anything else. Otherwise I’ll leave you be.”

“Thanks,” Colin said. “You’re a star.”

“I’ve been where he is, and it’s not fun.” She turned to Andrew. “Be well, sir.”

Andrew’s words had abandoned him, so he gave only a quick nod.

The door shut as she left, muting the restaurant’s cacophony. In the relative silence, Andrew could hear his pulse thumping in his ears.

Colin sat beside him and dipped the bar cloth into one of two glasses of ice water. “It might not feel like it, but you’re gonnae be okay. We’ll get through this.”

Andrew took the cloth, wiped his face and neck, then handed it back to Colin to soak again.

“Not too cold, is it?” Colin said. When Andrew shook his head, Colin continued, “Not like that night we went swimming in your lake, remember?”

Andrew draped the cloth over the back of his neck, letting it absorb the heat radiating off him. “I remember the loons,” he said hoarsely.

“That was beautiful. I’ll miss your boathouse. But we’ll find another place where we can swim at night and hear loons and freeze our baws off.”

Andrew couldn’t reply, as he was hit by another wave of…whatever this was seizing and squeezing his body and mind.

“Let’s just breathe, okay?” Colin said. “In through the nose and out through the mouth. Like you taught me.”

Andrew gripped the edge of the sofa as Colin counted off the seconds for each inhalation and exhalation, gradually increasing the time. It took an eternity to manage even a four-second breath.

“That’s it,” Colin said. “You’re a pure legend.”

“I’m not.” Andrew shook his head, which made it throb even harder. “I quit uni.” He closed his eyes, bracing for recrimination.

Colin gave a soft gasp. Then after a moment he said, “All right.”

“‘All right’? How is that all right?”

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