I am HER... (11 page)

 
Slightly?
  I feel awful inside.  My hands are officially shaking, and my chest is getting tighter, and now my head throbs.
  "I'm not dis-traught.  I, I'm fine." 
Shit
.  I can't breathe properly. 
WHY DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING TO ME??
 
  "Breathe, Sweetheart.  I don't want this for you.  Please try to relax.  Breathe with me.  Right now!"
  Within seconds I'm almost hysterical.  Everything hurts.  I’m just so confused.  Why does this keep happening?
  "Please try to stop thinking.  I want you to concentrate on breathing with me. 
Slowly...
There you go.  Slowly, catch your breath.  I want you to lie down right there."
  I can’t even protest.  I don’t want to protest his instructions.  Laying down, I close my eyes and listen to his voice.

 
God, his voice is so beautiful.  His soothing voice makes everything  slow down.  My body is slowly returning to me.  I have the tingles from head to toe.  I can still hear him murmuring in the background, but I'm concentrating on relaxing my body now.  I am so tired suddenly, I just want to stay here on the floor.
  "Sweetheart, are you there?  You didn't fall asleep on me, did you?"

 
I gasp a small laugh. "No.  I'm here, but I'm really tired now.  Can I please hang up?  I want to sleep..." I whisper.
  "Yes, love.  Hang up and go directly to bed.  I'll call you tomorrow.  Sleep well."
   I know I should be worried.  I know Marcus might hear me on the phone, but I really want to hear Z’s voice again.  I love his melodic voice.  I know Z might call when Marcus is still here in the morning... but I just don't care right now.  

                              
    ==========

 
"For Christ’s Sake! 
Again,
with the floor?  What are you doing on the kitchen floor?"
  "Um... What time is it?" I ask groggily.
  "11:55, Why?  Are you going to give me hell for
working
late?"
  Well, I’m certainly not groggy enough to miss the implication of 'working'.  And when have I ever given him hell?  Never.  I
never
say a word about anything.  I don't say a word to any
one
about any
thing
.  And if I do ever speak my mind, everyone is mad at me.  Like Marcus is- right now.
  "There’s a very dry
homemade
lasagna in the fridge, if you're hungry.  I'm going to bed.  Good night Marcus."  There!  Do you like
my
implication, Marcus?  Actually, he probably didn't even notice.
  Trying to steady my legs, I nearly run from the kitchen to my room.  I can't stand this.  I hate being disliked by anyone, and with Marcus it always feels worse.  Maybe it feels worse because he’s
supposed
to love me.  Or maybe it’s worse because I have to live in silence with him when he’s mad at me. 
Whatever. 
When it's Marcus, it feels worse than even silence from my parents. 
  In my bathroom, I brush my teeth quickly, and change my capris for pajama bottoms, but keep wearing my black cami.  Finally, nine minutes later, I crawl into my bed.

 
Thank god today is over.  I hope tomorrow is better.  Anything has got to be better than the last two days.  Hopefully, I’ll even feel better tomorrow.  Hopefully tomorrow I’ll actually
feel…

                     
              CHAPTER 5
 
  Waking to the sounds of Marcus in his closet, I look at the clock.  8:40?  Wow.  He's really late.

 
"Are you okay?" I ask gently.
  "No.  The stupid alarm clock in the spare room doesn't work.  Why didn't you tell me?"
  "I didn't know.  Didn't you use it yesterday morning?"
  He grunts, "Yes, so?  Are you saying I broke it?"
  "No.  I just think it’s strange that it worked yesterday, but not this morning.  Did you remember to set it?"
  "Of course I did. 
I'm
not an idiot."  Wow.  What does
that
mean?  Marcus thinks
I'm
an idiot? 
Since when?
  "Do you love me?"  Where the hell did that come from?  Please don't answer. 
Please...
  "Why?  Does it matter?" 
What!?
 
  "Of course it matters.  Do. You. Love. Me. Marcus?"

 
Shut up!  Stop speaking!  You do NOT want an honest answer to this question.  You do NOT want to hear this.
  "Yes, I love you.  But I hate when you act like this. 
I'm
the good guy here.  Everyone thinks so.  Even your parents like me better than they like you.  But you act like I'm
NOT
a good guy and I don't like it.  Please stop acting this way.  It really doesn't become you.  I didn't marry some drama-queen; I chose to marry YOU, okay?"
  Okay.  That was sooo not touching, thoughtful, or filled with concern.  Z would have said something like… 
Shit.
  Don’t go there! 
  "Did you pick-up my dry cleaning yesterday on your
day off
?" 
Day off?
  It was a sick day.
  "Not yet.  I was unwell yesterday, so I just worked in the sunroom all day, remember?  I'll try to get it today.  Sorry..."
  "Okay.  Could you
try
hard?" 
Try hard?
  That's all I DO.  All day.  Every day.   I try so hard.  God, I'm so sick of
trying.
  "Okay Marcus... I'll try
real hard
to pick-up your dry-cleaning."  Was my sarcasm obvious?
  "Why are you being so sarcastic?  Never mind, I don't want to know.  I'm leaving for work."  Yup.  My sarcasm was obvious.

                                
==========

  Finally alone, I reach for my phone and there’s an email from Z.  I kinda want him to stop emailing me, because he stresses me out.  I really do want him to stop, but then again, I really hope he doesn’t stop.  Z stresses me out
and
he calms me right down.  What the hell am I supposed to do with that?  I really am all over the map here. 

Here we go... 
Shit.
_____________________________
From:  Z. Zinfandel

Subject:  Panic

Friday, May 27

7:53am
Good morning Sweetheart,
I do hope you are well.
You gave me another little scare last night.
Do you practice yoga?  If not, maybe you should. 
Yoga helps with panic-attacks due to all the breathing exercises.  Yoga also increases flexibility, which is
very
beneficial for everyone.

I'll give you a call around 10:00am.    

Until then, stop thinking!
Z
________________________________

 
 Is he teasing me?  Is that a sexual joke?  Does he even joke?  He seems way too intense for joking.  Stop thinking?  How the hell does one accomplish that?  I mean
really
, how the
hell
do I stop thinking when I have work to do?
  After reading Z’s email, I send an email to Mr. Shields explaining that I should have the expense summary reports to him this afternoon, instead of Monday morning.  I hope he’s impressed when they arrive early.  Maybe he won't think I'm such an incompetent drama-queen.

 
Maybe I should try to schedule a meeting with him Monday morning to explain my actions this week.  But what would I say?

 
"Ah, nothing happened on Wednesday, but I've been freaking out anyway?  My husband doesn't really love me?  I'm kind of lost and panicky right now, but don't know why? Oh. And I can't stop holding my breath, losing my breath, or forgetting to breathe altogether."
 

 
Yeah.  That would
definitely
reestablish my reputation as competent within the company.
 

                                 ==========

  10:01...  He’s late, and then I jump.  Why does the phone keep
doing
that to me?
  "Good morning, this is..."
  "I know who you are Sweetheart.  How are you this morning?  Better, I hope?" 
God.
.. His voice is just stunning to listen to.
  "I'm well, thank you.  I wanted to apologize for last night.  I'm not sure what came over me, but I can assure you it won't happen again."
  "Uh huh.  You’re apologizing again, a
nd
making assurances you may not be able to keep."
  "Oh... I, I'm sorry."
Shit!
  Why do I keep saying that?
  Laughing, "Apparently, there are some habits you find very hard to break.  Have you always apologized endlessly? Almost on demand?"  Yes. 
Yes, I have
.
  "When the situation requires it... Yes.  What’s wrong with being polite?" I snap at him.
  "Nothing at all.  Politeness is required in almost any industry and social setting.  However, endless self-recrimination is not.  Why do you feel the need to always apologize?"
  "I DON’T feel the
need
,"  I almost whine.  "But if I've done or said something requiring an apology, I give it.  Why is that a problem?  I don't understand."
  "Oh, I have no problem with a polite apology when it is required.  What I have a problem with is an intelligent woman who constantly vilifies her actions, therefore
creating
an opportunity, for said intelligent woman to apologize for a
supposed
offense.  Do you see the difference?"  Ah, not really.  What the
hell
is he talking about?
  "I don't do that.  Last night, I acted out, so I apologized.  I’m embarrassed that you had to stay on the phone with me while I acted all dramatic, therefore, I apologized.  That's it.  I'm not
creating
anything."  There. 
Ha!
  "
Acting out?  Dramatic?
  Listen, love... You. Had. A. Panic-Attack.  You could not control it, and it certainly does not require an apology.  And I did not
have to
stay on the phone with you, I
wanted
to." 
  "Well, then, thank you."

  After another long, seemingly uncomfortable silence, Z breathes, "I would like you to meet me today for lunch.  Or I could stop by your home?  I'm sure your
nice
husband won't be there to care for you... So I could be over by 12:30."  Gulp. 
NO!
  "Ah, no.  Thank you.  I MUST finish my reports and email them to Mr. Shields by early afternoon.  I really don't have the time to meet you for lunch... But, I do appreciate the invite."  That was good- firm intentions, yet polite refusal.  Yay me!
  "Still not comfortable with me?  After all the time we have spent via email and phone conversation?  Again, I suggest Sweetheart, that you become comfortable, because before I leave for New York we WILL meet face to face." 
  Gulp, again, and more silence.  I don't want to meet him.  Yes. I do... And more silence until…
  "When was the last time you experienced pleasure?" 
WHAT?!
  What the hell is he talking about?  Is he actually waiting for my response? 
  "Um... That's really none of your business."
  "
That
long? 
Oh, Sweetheart
... that's sad."
  "What?  No.  It hasn't been long.  I'm not sad.  What are you
talking
about?!"  Shit.  I'm getting louder.  Come on... calm down.
  "I didn't say YOU were sad, though that seems fairly obvious.  I said THAT is sad.  I would like to imagine you feeling pleasure, but I find it quite difficult."  Ha! 
  "You and me both..." I snort.  
Shit!
  That was out loud?!  Oh. My.
God.
  "I'm just kidding. 
Honestly.
  My, ah,
pleasure
is none of your concern." 
  "Oh, but I find it is my concern.  I would like to see you experiencing pleasure.  I like to imagine those beautiful lips of yours swollen by kisses, and those gorgeous eyes of yours, bright with pleasure, pupils dilated with lashes lowered."

 
That
was the sexiest thing anyone has EVER said to me, but I have to stop him,
right?