by Jane Charles
“Anything else you don’t like or should I have gotten a different one?” There is still so much I don’t know about Gabe and I can’t wait to learn everything, like what his favorite food is, pizza topping, beer, color, television show. The list is endless. We may not have a lot in common, but it doesn’t matter. I’m drawn to him like I’ve never been drawn to anyone in my life.
“Those are about the only two things.” He cuts a piece of his pizza because it is way too thick to try and pick up and eat. Not like the slices I grabbed from the corner pizzeria in college. “You’ll find I’m not exactly picky, at least where food is concerned,” he adds with a wink.
“Any word on when you’re going back to work?” This has to be eating at him, being on paid leave. I don’t even know why he is, and I wished he’d tell me so that I could offer some support.
“Hopefully soon,” he says before taking another bite.
Damn, I want to ask for details so badly, but that’s not allowed. It’s frustrating. And, it’s no longer because I’m curious about Baxter as much as I care about the guy sitting across the table from me that I’ve known all of a week.
“How many private schools have you visited?” He asks after taking a swig of beer, surprising me with the question.
I shrug. “A few.”
“Was it easy to get on the campus?”
“I had to show identification at the door, but it was usually easy enough.”
“None of those were boarding schools though, or were they?”
“No.”
“Because Baxter has been entrusted with the kids 24/7, they take security to a much higher level.” He takes another drink and sets the beer on the table. “Sure, they have performances and gallery showings, but the foundation is very particular about who gets on campus.”
“They do a background check?” It seems a bit extreme to me.
“In light of the horrible things that have happened at schools around the nation, and the fact that this is what kids call home for a good part of the year, they aren’t going to let anyone in who has not been thoroughly checked out.”
I get that but I think they are being a bit extreme.
“That’s why I met with Mag today.”
I straighten. What the hell did he tell her?
“She needs to know that the office isn’t doing as thorough job as she thinks.”
“Is this about Isaac or me?” I still don’t get the problem with Isaac being where Gabe is, but I also know he isn’t about to tell me.
“You!” He answers bluntly. “I don’t think it’s a problem with you being there. But, had they been thorough, they would have discovered what I did.”
“That Ellen West didn’t exist six years ago.”
“Yeah.” He nods. “You would have never set foot on Baxter property. Who else could slip in? The safety of those kids is the responsibility of Baxter, which Mag takes very seriously.”
“So, what did you tell her?” My voice is cold, but I don’t care. I thought I could trust him and he just pulled the rug out from under me.
“Nothing,” he insists. “When Mag asked, I assured her that I thought it was fine that you return.”
Whew!
“But, she has a few questions for you.”
“Did you tell her anything about my past?” I need to know, and if he did, I’ll have to ask him to leave. I can’t be with someone I don’t trust.
He turns and takes my hand in his. “Nothing, Ellen. I wouldn’t betray you. The only reason I said anything to Mag was because I need to protect those kids too.”
He’s looking into my eyes.
“I hope you understand.”
Gabe does feel an obligation to his students, and I get that. At least he only told Mag what anyone else would learn if they bothered to search for Ellen West.
Gabe – 31
I blink my eyes open and look around Ellen’s apartment. The television is still on, but it’s been muted. I can’t believe I fell asleep and don’t even remember what we were watching. After eating pizza we kicked back on her couch, she snuggled against me and we just chilled. I wanted to take her to bed, and that’s practically all I could think about while her body rested against mine, but I wasn’t about to rush again. We did last week and look how that ended. This time, I intend to take my time, make sure something real is happening here, even if my cock is ready to skip ahead and get down to business.
She fell asleep first. I do remember that. Her soft body, cuddled up against mine, her head on my shoulder and hand on my thigh. As her body grew heavier, not that she could ever be described as heavy, I couldn’t bring myself to disturb her and send her off to bed. I was enjoying having her there with me, too much. I’m the one that muted the television, now I remember. It was so she’d continue to sleep on me and I didn’t want her waking.
But, she’s gone now. She probably took herself off to bed. I can’t really blame her. It couldn’t have been comfortable sleeping on me. I’m not exactly soft and a certain part of my anatomy certainly isn’t. Damn, will I always get hard just thinking about her?
I probably should let myself out and go down to my own apartment, but I don’t have that kind of energy. She left me here so I assume she won’t care if I stretch out on her couch and go back to sleep. Reaching behind me to adjust the pillow I see Ellen. She’s sitting in a chair, almost near the window. She can see out, but she’s not close enough for anyone to see in. A blanket is wrapped tightly around her, she’s rocking back and forth, biting her bottom lip and there’s stark fear in her eyes.
Shit!
I get up and go to her, kneeling in front of her body. “What’s wrong?” I already know. Or, I think I do. I’ve seen it happen to students.
Her eyes meet mine and her breathing is labored. Tears fill her eyes but she doesn’t answer.
“Ellen, have you ever had a panic attack before,” I ask quietly.
She blinks at me. “You know what this is?”
“Yeah,” I answer and shrug. “Has it happened before?”
She gives me a quick nod and pulls the blanket tighter. She’s shivering and I know being chilled can be one of the symptoms. “Is your heart racing?”
She gives a quick nod and tries to take a deep breath, but it doesn’t work. She’s breathing too quickly, close to hyperventilating. I search into the folds of the blanket and find her hands. I’d pull her into my arms, but I’m not sure if that will escalate her symptoms or calm her. For everyone it’s different.
“Are you dizzy, feeling weak or faint.”
“A…little…faint.” She can barely talk.
Tightening my hold on her hands, I ask. “Are your fingers tingling?”
Ellen gives a sharp nod.
“How long have you been like this?”
Her eyes go wide and her brown eyes fill with tears. “I…don’t…know. I…just…woke…up…”
“Shhh,” I tell her. She’s shivering too much to try and talk right now.
“This has happened before?”
Again she nods.
“Do you have meds?” If not, I need to get her to a hospital.
“Took them already.”
I glance around and see prescription bottles on the table. My knowledge of prescription meds is limited, but I do know about panic attacks, anxiety, and the medications the kids are prescribed. It was part of my month long training when I went to work at Baxter. Still holding one of her hands, I reach over with the other and grab the bottles. One is a benzodiazepine and another a beta blocker, which are normally prescribed for anxiety and taken daily. Shouldn’t she have something to take in case she has an actual attack? Clearly, the ones she is on hasn’t kept them at bay. Experience with the kids have taught me that sometimes there is breakthrough and they need to take something extra to help them through. But, I’m not a doctor and she’s in bad shape. “Do you want me to take you to the hospital?”
Her eyes grow large with fear and she tries to jerk back. “No, I
can’t go out there.”
I keep a tight hold on her hands. “Okay, we’ll stay here.” I’d ask why she’s afraid to go outside, but her answer won’t matter. Whatever she’s afraid of has escalated and is usually unreasonable, not that it matters to the person suffering from the attack. They may even know the feelings are beyond rational, but it doesn’t matter when going through something like this. The emotions far outweigh reasonable thoughts and only time and proper medication helps.
“What can I do?” There has to be something, but I’m clueless and have never felt so fucking helpless in my life. The kids have therapists and a pharmacy at their disposal. Here, it’s just me and Ellen, in a small apartment and she’s already taken her meds.
Mateo! Maybe I should call him to come up here. He’s had more experience with this than me. But, if I call him, Ellen will find out he isn’t the type of counselor Baxter portrays him as, but a therapist. Do I risk that?
I have to help Ellen. That’s all that matters. I’ll deal with the rest later. I grab the phone from my pocket. He’ll be asleep and has to work tomorrow, but I don’t care.
Ellen grabs my hand before I can punch in his number. “Don’t.”
Clearly, this is going to push her further. “Okay.” I put the phone aside. “What can I do?”
Tears are slipping down her cheeks. “I…don’t…know.”
“Let me get you tucked into bed.”
“No!” she snaps. “I…ca…ca…can’t go…back…th…th…there.”
I glance around her apartment and down the short dark hall. She’s afraid of something that I can’t comprehend or understand, but she can’t continue to sit here like this, wrapped in a blanket, shivering. “I can take you downstairs.” Maybe if I get her out of here.
She stares at me, then looks out the window again, her eyes searching for something. What, I don’t know, before looking back at me. “Yes.”
I stand and hold out my hand. “Come on.”
Ellen comes to her feet, still clutching the blanket around her. I turn off the television, grab her meds, and turn off the lights before leaving and locking the door. She isn’t saying anything and I stay close as we go to my apartment. She stops just inside the door. “Is anyone else here?”
“Mateo,” I answer.
“Are you sure?” Her eyes are darting around the place.
“Yeah, but I’ll double check.” I lock the door behind me and then look in every room and every closet. She follows silently and her breathing starts to calm when she is assured that nobody else is in the apartment.
“Let me get you in bed.”
She gives a quick nod and I take her into my room and pull the blankets back on the bed. She crawls in, still clutching her own blanket and curls in to the fetal position. I get in beside her, pull the blankets up and then spoon myself around her. At least she isn’t shivering as badly. Maybe the meds are beginning to work.
I don’t say or do anything, just hold her. I can’t think of anything I could do to help and there probably isn’t anything. I don’t even know why she’s so afraid or what brought this on. Unless it was the past. She spilled everything to me earlier about her past and the new trial. Did that open a floodgate of emotions and fear? That has to be the answer, but I’m helpless to do anything for her. At least at the moment. All I can do is hold her and try to offer what comfort I can.
Ellen
I know I’m being irrational. I could tell myself that a hundred times over but it doesn’t take away the fear. The attack came upon me when I was asleep and it’s not the first time it’s happened. I’m usually attacked when I let my guard down and this isn’t the first time I’ve woken up with shaking and chest pain. I grabbed my meds immediately, but it was too late. There’s another medication the doctor prescribed for situations just like this, but I hadn’t had it refilled in a long time. I hadn’t needed to. I should have known the first time Scott called that I needed to get the prescription filled for this very situation.
Why did I stop taking the anxiety meds in the first place?
I know it’s because things were going good and I hadn’t had issues in over a year. And, even though I hadn’t been taking them, those prescriptions were always up to date. Except they are for a condition, and should be taken daily, and not strong enough to combat a panic attack. And, I only started taking them again last week. They need more time in my system to before they really begin to work and alleviate symptoms.
Why the hell didn’t I keep the other meds up to date and why didn’t I get them filled the minute Scott called?
It was so stupid and I’m paying for that mistake right now.
I wish I could stop shaking and I wish the pain would go away. It’s ruling me and I’m not ruling it. And, I can’t stop the thoughts and jumping ahead to the worst case scenario. The same thing played over and over in my head after I looked out the window, wondering if they were already there, watching me. I moved the chair back so I could see out and nobody could see in. I just knew Krestyanov had thugs out there, waiting to make their move. But, what if they were already in the building? What if they were on their way up here now? They would kill me and Gabe, too. He would be dead and it’d be all my fault. I almost made him leave, but that would mean I’d have to unlock the door and then they could get it.
Photos of mutilated bodies flashed through my mind. That’s what they were going to do to us. I knew it. But not if they can’t get in.
I tried to tell myself that they couldn’t know where I was or my name, but it didn’t help. They could have been tracking Scott’s phone. That’s why he didn’t call me in New York until he had to. He didn’t want to use the burner either, which means they are here or trying to find me.
But, they won’t kill me until the judge rules my testimony inadmissible. But, what if he already had and they are here now to make sure I don’t testify, ever?
My breathing is easier now that I’m out of my apartment and in Gabe’s bed. They probably don’t know where he lives. Unless they’ve watched him too.
Did I just bring danger to his door? And Mateo’s? He doesn’t even know what’s happening and he could be killed from just the association.
The pain in my chest is easing, but the thoughts don’t stop.
I need to make them stop.
“Music,” I finally say.
“Music?” Gabe asks quietly, his mouth near my ear.
“The Sleeping Beauty.”
“Disney?” He asks, confused.
For the first time since I woke, I feel hope, and almost a giggle. “Tchaikovsky’s The Sleeping Beauty,” I clarify. I am beginning to feel better, but I can’t move. Not yet.
“Um, I don’t have that on my tablet.”
I didn’t expect him to. “Mine does.”
He pulls away from me. “I’ll run upstairs and get it.”
Immediately the panic increases. I can’t have him away from me. What if they are up there already? What if Gabe walks in on them and he’s killed, or makes him bring them to me?
I know they aren’t there. These are just more irrational thoughts, but I can’t let him leave my side. I feel better when he’s with me and must keep him here.
“Shush, I’ll only be a minute.”
He guessed what I was feeling without having to say anything. Nobody has ever done that before. They’ve just looked at me as if I’d gone mad and I couldn’t explain. It’s as if Gabe gets it and he’s done nothing but try to help. Tears spring to my eyes. Nobody has understood until now, except my doctors, but he’ll be gone when it’s over. Gabe’s not going to want to spend any more time with me now that he knows what a basket case I am. I’m going to lose him and everything that’s important.
The pain starts up in my chest again. This time from loss and panic. It’s so fucking unfair having to go through this and lose him too.
“Okay, I won’t leave,” he says gently. “Let me grab my tablet and download it for you.”
“Where is it?”<
br />
“Just over there on the table,” he answers. I can see it across the room. “Are you okay if I leave for just a second?”
I give a quick nod but feel his loss the minute he gets out of bed. I try and force myself to breath deep and slow but I don’t take my eyes off of him. He comes back to the bed and settles beside me. I turn over so I can see him. Gabe’s half sitting, pillows behind him and he’s leaning against the headboard. He’s searching iTunes. There are a lot of different versions.
“Which one?” He holds the tablet up to me.
I point to Mikhail Pletnev & Russian National Orchestra, and Gabe clicks “buy”.
It’s a beautiful ballet and I find the waltz to play that first. As soon as the music starts I can feel myself begin to relax. Why didn’t I turn on a ballet sooner?
“That’s the same one as the Disney animation.”
This time I smile.
“I even remember the words.”
“Lyrics,” I correct as the anxiety begins to start letting go of me. “Can you even sing?”
“No.” He chuckles. “Certain things are kept between me and my shower.”
I danced this once upon a time, when I was younger and had dreams of being a prima ballerina. I was young and only had a minor role in the production, but it’s one of my favorites. I close my eyes, listen and go through the chorography in my head. The vise around my chest relaxes and I’m no longer shivering. Either the meds are finally beginning to work, or I have Gabe and Tchaikovsky to thank for bringing me back.
Gabe – 32
I barely slept and was lucky to doze off a couple of times, but I was too afraid to really sleep. What if Ellen woke again and needed me? Instead, I made sure the ballet played over and over, turning the volume down just a little, every fifteen minutes or so, just so it wouldn’t wake her, and continued to hold her close. She’s only been asleep for about three hours and I’d turned off the tablet a little over an hour ago and set it aside. I have no idea how long she was awake, suffering, before I woke up, and she’ll probably be exhausted for the rest of the day. I know I’ll be.