Page 8 of Sin With Me
“I’ll magically be healed before that time comes.”
“Is that so?” A laugh slips out of her mouth and it’s the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.
“Mm-hmm. Maybe you could be my sponsor. Then you’d have to gimme your number.”
“You’ve tried that before, remember?”
“I’m nothin’ if not persistent.”
“So I’ve learned. But right now, we’re supposed to be talkin’ about you and your feelings.”
I exhale through my nose because I hate doing that the most. I’d much rather just listen to her.
“Pass,” I quip.
“Nice try,” she says sternly. “How ’bout you start by tellin’ me about your day?”
“Hello, you reached the Haven Grace prayer crisis hotline. How can I assist you in prayer today?”
“I need you to talk me off the ledge, Delly.”
“Luke? Are you in danger?”
I hate how panicked she sounds but also grateful she picked up and recognized my voice. I almost didn’t call because I didn’t want to torture myself even more with her sweet voice.
“I’m really drunk.”Again.
“Where’re you right now?”
“Lyin’ in my bathtub.”
“Are you holdin’ a razor blade?”
“Yeah…I don’t think I’m gonna be able to stop tonight if I start,” I admit.
“What happened? Talk me through it.” The fear in her tone makes me regret calling her, but if I have any chance of stopping myself, I need to hear her voice.
“The sadness and dread are so fuckin’ heavy. My chest burns. My heart’s racin’ so damn fast. My throat is dry and somehow wet at the same time. I’m sweatin’ through my shirt. My mind is scrambled with thoughts. And…I just wanna make it stop.”
“Luke, you’re havin’ a panic attack. I want you to put down the razor blade, close your eyes, and then listen to the sound of my voice.”
“Alright.”
After following her orders, I lean my head back against the cool porcelain and wait.
“I’m gonna count back from thirty. I want you to inhale a deep breath on the first five counts and then release it on the next five, and so on.”
“Okay,” I murmur.
“Deep inhale,” she demands. “Twenty-nine, twenty-eight, twenty-seven, twenty-six and now exhale…”
I do as she says, listening to her counts and breathing in time with them. Clinging to her voice gives me something to focus on besides how foolish I feel for needing to be talked down.
When she gets to zero, my breathing goes back to normal.
“Good, Luke. How do you feel?”
“That tightness in my chest is a bit lighter,” I tell her. The slow exhaling and deep breathing helped to release the tension locked in my ribs.
