Page 75 of Fair Ball

I rub at my forehead that feels warm all of a sudden. “Mills, I need some air.”

Shuffling outside to the balcony, I try to inhale deeply, but she’s right there next to me. “Have you talked to your brother at all?”

My breath catches in my throat, and I shake my head.

“Maybe that would help? Talking to him, I mean. If you tell me what happened between you two, maybe we could practice the conversation. That always helps me, to practice what I want to say and possible reactions, so I’m prepared, you know?”

I shake my head, pushing past her to go back inside, suddenly dizzy. The room is closing in. “Go home.”

“What?” She places her hand on my back. “Austin, talk to me. I want to help. I⁠—”

“Millie, stop. Just fucking leave.” My vision blurs, and I blink a few times, pacing across the floor to get away from her.

“No.” She places herself in front of me, forcing me to stop. “I’m not leaving you.”

It is the worst thing she could have said. The one thing to send me spiraling to a place that feels like I can’t return from. A black hole I can’t pull myself out of.

Because she doesn’t deserve this.

And I don’t want to keep putting her in this position of caring for me.

“I don’t want you here,” I manage to wheeze out before my throat closes, and I sink to the floor, gasping.

“Oh my god, Austin.” She places her hands on my shoulders, attempting to hold me up, but it’s no use, and both of us slump against the wall. It’s cool against my back, and I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling sweat gather at my temples, along the nape of my neck.

I can barely hear her over the roaring in my ears when she asks, “What’s wrong?”

But I can’t answer her.

“I think you’re having an anxiety attack. Austin…” She shakes me until I open my eyes. “Listen to me. You need to breathe. Big breaths, like this…”

Millie inhales and exhales loudly, her chest and shoulders rising, and I try to imitate her, but I feel like I’m dying.

Jesus fuck, I’m dying.

“I’m dying,” I croak, and she holds my face between her hands, so I can’t do anything except stare at her.

“You’re not dying, but you need to control your breath. Do it like me. In your nose, out your mouth.”

I try, but it’s hard. Still, she inhales and exhales loud and long for me to follow along. Each breath rakes my lungs with glass.

“You’re okay. You’re not dying. You’re alive and healthy, and I’m not going to leave you alone, okay? Keep breathing.”

The room comes back into focus behind her. The yellow walls of my kitchen, the squawking of my bird, the view of the Schuylkill River through the glass doors in the living room. That’s when I relax a little, swipe a clammy palm over my face. “Fuck.”

“Fuck is right.” She stands to grab me a cool pack from the freezer and a glass of water. I accept both gratefully, and she sits on the floor with me, observing me as if I might lose it again. “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry,” I mumble around the glass.

“Austin…that isn’t normal. That’s the second time I’ve seen you have an episode like this, so I’m sure you’ve experienced them more than that. How many times?”

I shrug.

“How many?’

“I don’t know.” I sound petulant. Like a teenager who doesn’t want to admit he’s been caught. But how can someone be my greatest strength and my ultimate weakness? She is the reason I want to be better, but she’s also the reason I don’t want to talk about any of this.

She huffs, backing away from me with an irritated set to her jaw. “This isn’t healthy. You need help. You can’t keep going through this.”