Cathedral

“You were in love,” Rita said. “And a love affair is never a finished thing.”

“No, it’s not. I think that night I finally understood what it meant. And the next day, in the lighting booth…”

“Tell me.”

“I wasn’t finished. I was joking with him about ditching rehearsal and going back to bed. Joking but not joking… I wanted him.”

“And then?”

A stab of anxiety pierced her chest. A wave of heat slid up her neck and reached sinister hands around her cheeks. Clapped invisible fingers over her mouth even as the bile rose up in the back of her throat.

“Oh, God,” she said, her voice nothing but an airless hiss.

Rita leaned forward a little. “Tell me what’s happening.”

“I don’t know…” She sucked air through her nose, fought the urge to flee the office and go running into the street. Her fingers clenched, desperate for a sharp edge to cut it out of her.

“What happened in the booth?” Rita aid.

“I can’t do this,” Daisy said, half-rising off the couch.

“Listen to my voice.” Rita leaned further into the space between their chairs, elbows on knees, hands clasped. “Stay with me, Daisy. You’re here with me and you are safe.”

Daisy sat back as the panic intensified. She’d never known such terror. Her heart strained and squealed, hammering fists against the wall of her chest. She had to get out or she was going to die here. Her feet beat against the floor, like a child having a tantrum. “I hate this,” she said through her teeth. “I hate it, I want to run, I want to cut it out of me.”

“I know. You are pure fight or flight right now. But listen to me, because you have a third option. You can stay still. Not flee. Not fight. Just stay here and let it come to you.”

“I can’t.”

“You can. You can let it come to you and go through you. Relax your jaw. Let go your hands. I’m right here with you, Daisy. Tell me as it happens.”

“I feel like I’m dying.”

“You are living right now. Don’t pull back away from it. Just hold still and live.”

“Hold still, Daisy thought. I can do that. I’m good at that.

“That’s it,” Rita said. “Let it sit right in your lap. Bring it on. Deep breath. Let it come. Breathe and come out the other side.”

Daisy breathed, counting inhales and exhales. Calmness put a hand on her shoulder. Then yanked it away and the bottom of her stomach dropped out.

“Fuck, I hate this,” she said, torquing and twisting again. “I hate feeling like this.”

“I know but trust me, if you don’t fight it, if you let it come to you, it will leave faster. Deep breath now. Let it out.”

Daisy was starting to shiver. “My skin hurts.” Her teeth chattered so hard she could barely get the words through them. “It’s like nauseous in my head.”

“That’s it,” Rita said. “Tell me as it happens. Narrate it. You’re doing great.”

In spite of the violent trembling, a single wretched chuckle escaped. “You’re always praising my worst moments.”

“Who’s to say they’re not your finest moments?”

“I feel so stupid.”

“Then feel stupid. Feel afraid. Feel whatever you w—“

“I feel like such shit. I want this to stop.”

“And it is. It’s stopping. Every second you get through is a second closer to stopping. You’re going through it and you will come out the other side.”

“Promise?” Daisy said, the P catching between her shaking lips.

“I promise,” Rita said, and in two words she blew a bubble, a protective force field around the small office, enclosing Daisy in trust.

“I’m so scared,” Daisy said, putting the words inside the sphere.

“Then be scared and keep telling me about the day.”

“I can’t.”

“You’re going to feel like shit whether you tell me or not, Daisy. You may as well let it out, throw it on the pile.”

Her head teetered back and forth on her neck. “I can’t remember.”

“Try.”

Half a laugh mixed with half a sob. “You’re so mean to me.”

“I know, and you pay me to be. Drink some water.”

Teeth still clattering in her jaw, Daisy took a sloppy sip from her bottle. Her stomach agreed to keep it and even allowed another.

“You were in the booth with Erik...”

Excerpt From

Give Me Your Answer True

Suanne Laqueur

This material may be protected by copyright.