"His beard and eyes. They are like Santiago's. I just..." My heart rate increases again thinking of it.
"Breathe."
Several moments pass before I calm again.
"I'm not a doctor, but I think you might have PTSD."
"What? No." I shake my head hard.
Andre holds my head still. "It's common in the military. A lot of guys I know have it. If you have it—"
"I don't. I'm fine. I just got a little triggered. Let's go."
"Naomi—"
"Can we go? Please?" I snap.
Silence fills the air. Andre clenches his jaw and stares at me. And I know he's trying to not be upset with me, but I would be angry with me. I can't seem to control anything right now.
"I'm ready. Let's go," I demand.
God, I sound like a total bitch.
"Let me go talk to the pilot first."
"I'll go with you."
"Stay here, Naomi. I'll be back to get you," he says in hisdon't argue with mevoice. And since I'm already freaking out because he's not going to be able to handle my new, horrible personality and will leave me, I agree.
He leaves, and for the first time in a long time, I'm alone.
I look around the small plane.
Empty, like I feel.
What am I talking about? I have Andre.
He's not going to stay with me forever if I keep freaking out like this.
What is happening to me?
I'm an independent woman. Act like it.
Andre comes back inside and holds his hand out. "Ready?"
I grab his hand and rise. "I'm sorry about earlier. I'll pull it together, I promise."
"Naomi, you don't owe me any apologies."
"I do."
He sternly says, "No. You don't."
I've never been a confused or overly emotional person before, but everything feels so out of whack compared to my normal behavior. "I don't know what's happening to me."
He holds my face. "Everything is going to get better. I promise."
"What if it doesn't?"