Page 50 of You Started It

“You’re not so bad yourself, James.”

My mind flashes to his porch when we almost kissed. I think about what would have happened if we had. In a way I’m grateful it didn’t happen, because then it might have made things weird and put a stop to all our plans, and to be honest, I’m really looking forward to our plans. It’s been a while since I felt excited about non-academic things.

“Come on,” he says, patting my thigh. “I can tell by the sound of the dishes hitting the table and the smells infiltrating my room that dinner is just about ready. And don’t worry. If there are any awkward silences, I’ll fill them. I’m good at taking up space.” He winks, and instead of it making me want to roll my eyes or retort sarcastically, it fills me with warmth.

Dinner with Axel’s family is perfect. The food is delicious. His mother prepared a spread of homemade falafel, hummus, tahini (which I avoid), baba ghanoush, tabouli, and warm pita. Axel’s dad is really sweet, especially with his daughters. His mom can’t stop grinning at us. Chrissy does interrogate me, but she seems to be okay with my answers. Susannah teases Axel about his failed attempt to play hockey (finally found something he’s not good at), and Axel keeps his promise by filling in the few awkward gaps of silence. There are no questions about if I’m Arab “enough,” and nothing to make me feel like I’m not welcome at their table with their family, next to their son.

After dinner, Axel’s mom and sisters turn down my attempts to help them clean up. Once we head out, I begin asking Axel questions again about the how-tos behind getting into a sold-out concert, but he refuses to answer.

“You only need to know what you need to know,” he says on our bus ride into the city. We’re at a bus shelter now, holding onto our transfers. “Here it comes,” he says as the streetcar arrives.

“Can you at least tell me where it’s taking us?”

“Read the sign.” He points.

I look up to see “Harbourfront” on the digital screen.

“Why Harbourfront?” I ask, taking a seat near the back of the streetcar. Axel slides in next to me. It’s like he walks around with a constant soundtrack playing in his head. All his movements are lyrical.

“Remember what I said about tonight’s plans being on a need-to-know basis?”

I unlock my phone and begin typing into it. “Okay, but Budweiser Stage is still another ten minutes away from Harbourfront and that’s not accounting for traffic or construction.”

Axel looks down at the phone in my hand, opened to Google Maps.

“Jamie,” he says. “Are you mapping this trip?”

“You’re not telling me anything.”

“So?”

“So, I need to know what I’m getting myself into,” I say, clenching my jaw and trying (but failing) to relax.

“Why?”

“So I can prepare myself. I like to be in control of my life and my surroundings. As much as possible, anyway.”

“Why do you think that is?” he asks with a smirk.

“For real?” I ask, sitting up. “I have anxiety. I mean, we all have anxiety, but some of us don’t know how to manage it.” I exhale,looking down at my tight fists. “I was diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder in ninth grade. My mom made me see a therapist because I wasn’t handling my dad’s…” Clearing my throat, I exhale and try again. “I had a hard time after my father left.”

“But that’s normal, isn’t it? I mean, if my dad walked out on us, I’d probably be a mess too. Not that I’m saying you’re a mess,” he quickly backtracks.

“No, it’s fine.” I shake my head and let out a small puff of laughter. “It is normal. But I was developing some unhealthy habits and the panic attacks became a bit more frequent, so we needed to try to find ways to deal with it.”

“What kind of unhealthy habits?”

I turn away from him and look out the window. Axel is asking some pretty personal questions, and I can’t really fault him because if I were him, I’d want to know too. But I’ve never really spoken to anyone about this outside of Mom, Amo Eli, and Ben. Ben was the one who was there after every appointment with the therapist. He was the one who took me out for ice cream. Assured me there wasn’t a vise around my lungs and that I could breathe. He became my security blanket, and he was a really good one…until he wasn’t.

Last year, he started to downplay my anxiety. Said I was in control of the way I felt and that I just had to stop listening to the negative voices in my head. Ben thought going for a walk would solve ninety percent of my problems. He said I needed to learn how to cope because life was only going to get harder and if I fed into the anxiety, it would become a monster that would take over my life.

The shared Kill-It Lists were not only a way to keep us focused on our goals, but they were also supposed to keep my anxiety at bay. If I had a plan, if I had goals, if I created a clear path for myself and my future, there’d be less room for the anxiety monster to take over.

And sometimes he was right. But on the days he wasn’t, it felt like I couldn’t turn to him and that was hard. It’s hard feeling like your safe person isn’t your safe person anymore.

“A lot of it is just stimming but sometimes in non-healthy ways,” I say to Axel. “I used to pick at the skin around my fingernails to the point of bleeding. I wear a mouthguard at night because apparently I grind my teeth in my sleep. I either eat too much or not enough, depending on what kind of stress I’m experiencing. The good news is, I rarely have panic attacks anymore. I’ve learned the signs and am able to stop them from happening by doing my breathing exercises. However, I haven’t been able to gain control over the other thing.”

“The other thing?” Axel asks.

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