“Hey, are you all right, Evelyn?” Sarcasm is replaced with concern. I nod, unable to find my voice. I grip the door handle even tighter, fighting the urge to fling the door open and run. I have to get out of this truck. I have to get out of here and make the fear stop.
He puts his hand on my shoulder. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling sick? You’re all pale. Talk to me.”
A wave of dizziness washes over me, leaving me feeling nauseous and short of breath.
“Panic attack... I’ve had them since I was a little girl...” My heart is pounding so hard, I can feel it in my ears and now I feel hot like I am sitting in an oven, but still shivering. I’m a mess.
“Oh, fuck.” He turns sideways on the seat, so his back is leaning against the door. “Come here.” He puts his hands on my shoulders and pulls me to him, my back against his chest. He covers us with the blanket and wraps his arms around the front of me in a bear hug.
“Just lean against me,” he says softly. “Close your eyes and just listen to my voice.”
My hands come up to clasp around his. My entire body is shaking and my brain is going a thousand miles a minute, hundreds of fears and bad thoughts rushing in. I hate this feeling so much. I just want it to stop.
Storm starts to talk, his voice soft and smooth, just above a whisper. “When I was little, I used to spend the weekends at my grandparents’ house. They live on two-hundred acres of land, mostly mountain. It used to be a farm and the old barn and some other buildings are still on the property my grandfather uses for storage. Their house is beautiful, all brick with lots of windows. Its big, four bedrooms, huge dining room, but super comfy. My Gram loves to decorate. She’s one of the types who decorate for each season and holiday, like putting those little animated statues up at Christmas and shit. The living room has a huge fireplace and I loved to sleep in front of it in the winters. When all we kids stayed there, some of us slept on the floor in the living room.”
As he’s talking, he’s gently stroking my hand and fingers with his. The sound of his voice and the gentle touch is lulling me. I close my eyes and allow my body to relax into his.
“Gram loved to bake and would make us these awesome snickerdoodle cookies, and real hot cocoa made from real chocolate with warm milk and homemade whipped cream. It was frickin’ awesome. My brothers, my sister, and I used to walk the trails on the property, and we’d see deer and some foxes. If it were snowing, my grandfather would come outside and build these huge snowmen with us. One year, he even made us an igloo. Then we’d all go inside, half frozen, and Gram would have homemade soup or stew ready for us. It was a really great way to grow up. I always felt safe and happy there. Even now, if I’m going through a fucked up time, I’ll go stay at their house for a few days, and Gram will treat me just like I’m ten years old, and ya know what? I don’t even fuckin’ care, cuz sometimes we all just need to be taken care of a little bit. Right?”
I nod. “Thank you, Storm,” I whisper. My panic attack has stopped. I don’t know how he knew it would work, but it did. I didn’t have to take a sedative, or run home to hide, or sit in a crumbling mess for hours like I usually do when a panic attack comes on. All I needed was this man’s arms around me with the sound of his voice sharing sweet memories. I start to sit up to move back to my side of the truck, but he gently holds me back. “Stay like this... I’ll keep you warm.”
That’s true, I am much warmer wrapped up against him. My brain struggles to accept that it’s okay to essentially cuddle with someone in a dire situation, even though he’s weird and scary and wearing eyeliner for some unknown persona.
We sit in silence for a while, the only sound in the truck the dog’s gentle breathing as he sleeps. Niko seems unfazed by our ordeal and content to just have Storm with him.
“Niko looks so peaceful. I have a cat,” I blurt out.
Storm lets out a small laugh like he is amused with me. “Really? Okay... tell me about your cat.”
Some of Storm’s hair is lying across my shoulder, mingling with my own hair. It’s odd, to see a man’s long hair entangled with my own, his dark, almost black, against my cherry brown. I find it slightly erotic. I quickly shake the thoughts out of my head.
“His name is Halo. He’s pure white and he was born deaf. My mom gave him to me for my eighth birthday. He’s eighteen years old.”
“Eighteen? Are you kidding me?” he asks clearly shocked.
I nod and smile, even though he can’t see my face. “Yup. He’s great. Even though he can’t hear, he’s still really sweet. He follows me all over the house and he sleeps with me every night. He has really pretty blue eyes. It’s like you could get lost in them, they are so blue.”