After I break down with Dr. Crist, Jake doesn’t bring up any more visits with therapists, and I hide myself in my office, pouring out all the emotion inside me onto the page. I’m nearly done, only a chapter or maybe two to go.
There’s a small knock on the open door. My heart rate spikes, but I remind myself that there is no harm here. The security cameras are up on the monitor and I notice one that says “office door.” I click on it and it shows Sabrina.
The length that Jake has gone to ease the anxiety of moving into a new place is so enormous it is hard for me to wrap my head around it. And it just reminds me of how many sacrifices he’s already made and how many he’s going to have to continue to make and it makes me both angry and sad.
“Come in,” I call. I rise out of my chair to greet her.
Her head pokes around the corner. “I hope you don’t mind my bothering you. It’s almost lunchtime. I was going to make some soup. Would you be interested?”
At the mention of food my stomach conveniently growls.
I point to my stomach. “My stomach says, ‘Yes please.’”
“I can bring it up here if you’d like.”
“You definitely are not waiting on me. I’m coming downstairs.”
We walk down the hall and I stop. Sabrina is halfway down the stairs before she realizes I’m not right behind her. She turns around with one hand on the balustrade. “Everything okay?”
“There’s not anyone downstairs, right?”
“It’s just you and me today. I think Jake had a meeting.”
I concentrate on my breathing and count the steps. When I get to the second landing, I pause before turning toward the kitchen. Sabrina says nothing, but I know she’s wondering what I’m doing. “Just having a moment,” I laugh weakly.
“It really isn’t a problem to bring you food,” she assures me.
I give her a grateful smile. “A lot of my anxiety has to do with fear of the unknown. It’s not rational, of course, but no phobias are, right? But I’m going to be fine. Let’s go.”
“I get you on the phobia thing. It’s not like snakes and spiders are going to kill me, but I can’t stand the idea of them around.” She shrugs as if my anxiety keeping me housebound for over three years is no big deal. Either enlightenment runs in her family or I’ve been making too big a deal out of my own issues. Maybe it’s both.
“Tell me what to do.” I rub my hands against the cool marble counter. “I want to help.”
“We’re making potato soup, so if you want to cut up the carrots and potatoes, I’ll get the rest of the stuff ready.”
As I chop, she busies herself with broth and herbs and onions and ham. I nod my head toward the soup she’s creating. “Have you thought about opening your own restaurant? You love to cook, and everything you make is delicious.”
She hesitates. “No. I mean, I do love cooking, but this is a hobby. I want to DJ.”
At first her words don’t register. Is that even an actual job? Fortunately I don’t say the words out loud. “Interesting. Have you done that?”
“I’ve been doing some clubs, mostly small ones and underground ones for raves that don’t have licenses and stuff like that. I’ve done frat parties and other kinds of small house parties at college, but I’ve never done anything on the big stage.”
“And you think that your parents won’t be supportive?”
“I’m the youngest, so I don’t know that they expect much out of me. But the last thing I want to do is disappoint anyone.”
“Your family loves you, though, and they would want to see you happy.”
“I guess.”
Her solemn and unhappy response makes me wonder if there’s more to the story. But I don’t know her that well and I don’t feel comfortable prying.
“Do you have a brother?” she asks.
“No, I have a cousin. Oliver. My parents died when I was five and his mother took me in and I was raised with him. He’s two years older than me.”
“Jake wasn’t really around when I started dating and Megan says that he wasn’t a jerk to her boyfriends. But ever since he’s been out of the army, it’s like because he doesn’t have citizens to protect, he has to stand guard over me.”
“He just loves you,” I try to console her.
“Maybe, but I wish he would love me from farther away. Maybe I should move. You know the most popular DJ is from the Netherlands.”
I shake my head; I did not know that. I don’t know anything about DJs other than they play music and people dance to it.
“One of Jake’s friends is Tadashubu Kaga. His family owns a big beverage company in Japan, but Kaga opens nightclubs all over the world. He owns the Aquarium and 69. When the Aquarium opened, there were so many people you couldn’t even see your own hand.”
“Sounds interesting.” Sounds horrible. I would never want to do that—go out to a club with a bunch of people where it’s so crowded you can’t even see your own hand. Sounds like my very worst nightmare. I have to clench my hands to keep from shuddering. “Tell me about DJing. I don’t know much about it.”
“It’s not just about mixing music or even mixing beats. A good DJ understands her crowd and keeps the energy up until the last song is played. The DJ Kaga brought from Germany was amazing. This guy held the crowd in the palm of his hand. When he said jump, they all jumped. When he said get down, the whole crowd writhed on the floor. Celebrities, models, actresses, they all listened to him. A good DJ makes the crowd move their bodies, but also moves the heart. With every song he played, every beat he ground out, it was like a spell. They were his. For like five hours.”
She sighs in memory of this amazing artist. Whatever she had seen had made a big impact on her. I didn’t point out that she sounded a little Napoleonesque in her desire to rule everybody in her vicinity.
Before I can ask her any more questions, the doorbell rings. At the discordant sound, my hand jerks and I knock over a box of broth. Fortunately it wasn’t open yet. I look at Sabrina with panicked eyes. Could I tell her not to answer the door?
“Why don’t you go upstairs,” she suggests.
I don’t exactly run up the stairs, but I don’t walk either. When I’m in the office I collapse on the sofa. Dr. Crist’s magic bag is on the table and I grab it and start puffing into it.
There’s a knock. “Hey, it’s just me, Sabrina.”
She waits for a response, but I can’t give her one. I’m frozen in my chair staring at the door. My hands are clenched together between my thighs in an effort to stop the shaking.
“The package is for you.”
“Sabrina, I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m sorry I am so fucked up.”
“Don’t apologize,” she says, her soft voice soothing through the door. “Do you want me to leave the box out here?”
I nod even though she can’t see me, and I keep nodding and start counting. By the time I get to one hundred my heart rate has slowed. I’m able to open my eyes.
“Sabrina, are you still there?” It’s been a while since I had a panic attack. I was settling in and my sudden outburst surprises me.
“Yes,” she says brightly, apparently not at all concerned that I made her wait for a response for five minutes. I open the door to find her sitting on the floor with the box, a medium-sized one, beside her. I wonder if my old doorman forwarded this to me. She rises, easily and elegantly, to her feet and hands me the box. I carry it into the office and lay it on the coffee table in front of the sofa. The exterior of the box has my name on it and Jake’s address.
“I wonder what it is?”
“You didn’t order anything?”
“No. It’s probably some gag gift from my cousin Oliver.”