Friction (Red Hot Private Eye, Novella, Vol. 2) by Melanie Shawn Page B
Authors: Melanie Shawn
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reality and repeated the mantra (which, she had to admit, was kind of growing on her.)
You can breathe. Just breathe. Breathe in and out slowly. You can breathe.
Slowly, bit by bit, she drifted back to the present and into her body. She closed her eyes to appreciate the little sensations she was now aware of—the leather of the seat pressed cold against her back, the icy breeze from the air conditioning blowing refreshingly on her face.
Leaning her head back against the headrest, she felt the weight of her chest rising and falling. Her arms felt heavy. Lowering them to her sides, Katie was vaguely aware that the paper bag had slipped from her hand and landed on the console beside her.
After several minutes, her breathing returned to normal and the ringing sound in her head grew sporadic. Katie searched her memory in an attempt to identify if ‘sporadic ringing in the head’ was a normal side effect post-panic attack. She hated that these horrible attacks used to occur with such frequency that she actually had a personal database of experiences to check her symptoms against.
Nope , she concluded, the sporadic ringing is new.
Turning her head to take in her surroundings, she saw cars whizzing by on the interstate. She squinted against the glare of the sun, which was shining brightly down on the pavement and bouncing off the car windshields speeding by.
Katie retrieved the paper bag and folded it up, returning it to her purse. She didn't love the thought that she might need to keep it handy for future use, but better safe than sorry. I mean, let's be real, she told herself. You're less than an hour off the plane and barely starting down the highway toward Harper's Crossing and you had a panic attack. You really think you're getting through the rest of the weekend unscathed? Not likely.
As she placed the paper bag inside her gigantic 'in case of emergency' carry-on bag, she discovered the source of the ringing.
She felt like an idiot. On the good side, she thought to herself, is the fact that I don't have to add tinnitus to the looooong list of symptoms that characterize my panic attacks. On the bad side? Apparently, I no longer recognize my cell phone's ring tone.
Picking up her iPhone, she swiped the screen to answer, saying warmly , “Hey Sophiebell!”
“Katie, where are you? I thought you would be here by now. Was your flight delayed? I can’t wait to see you,” Sophie squealed, the words tumbling out of her mouth one over another. Katie smiled to herself. She had always thought that Sophie could paraphrase that old Army motto to adopt as her own. 'I say more before nine a.m. than most people say all day!'
“The flight was fine. I am on my way, and I will be there in less than an hour. I can’t wait to see you, too!”
“Okay, hurry,” Sophie pleaded but then followed it up with the command, “but drive safe!”
“I will. See you soon, bride-to-be!” Katie tried to cover the stress in her voice with ebullience as she said goodbye and hung up the phone.
It's 8:30 a.m. on Thursday morning, she thought, repeating the mental math to herself. My return flight to California is at 7:00 p.m. Sunday night. All I have to do is get through the next four days—preferably without having a nervous breakdown! —and then I can wing my way back to my lovely, safe, predictable life in San Francisco.
Let the countdown begin.
Katie breathed out a long sigh as she pulled back onto the highway. She needed get her head on straight and pull it together. Facts, that was what she needed to focus on. Facts had always comforted Katie.
Fact: s he wasn’t a teenager anymore. Fact: she was an adult. Fact: she could handle this.
It had been ten long years since Katie Marie Lawson had set foot in Harper's Crossing, the town of her childhood and her youth. She had never meant to stay away this long.
When she originally left to California for school a decade ago, her plan had been to come back at Christmastime. Sitting at
You can breathe. Just breathe. Breathe in and out slowly. You can breathe.
Slowly, bit by bit, she drifted back to the present and into her body. She closed her eyes to appreciate the little sensations she was now aware of—the leather of the seat pressed cold against her back, the icy breeze from the air conditioning blowing refreshingly on her face.
Leaning her head back against the headrest, she felt the weight of her chest rising and falling. Her arms felt heavy. Lowering them to her sides, Katie was vaguely aware that the paper bag had slipped from her hand and landed on the console beside her.
After several minutes, her breathing returned to normal and the ringing sound in her head grew sporadic. Katie searched her memory in an attempt to identify if ‘sporadic ringing in the head’ was a normal side effect post-panic attack. She hated that these horrible attacks used to occur with such frequency that she actually had a personal database of experiences to check her symptoms against.
Nope , she concluded, the sporadic ringing is new.
Turning her head to take in her surroundings, she saw cars whizzing by on the interstate. She squinted against the glare of the sun, which was shining brightly down on the pavement and bouncing off the car windshields speeding by.
Katie retrieved the paper bag and folded it up, returning it to her purse. She didn't love the thought that she might need to keep it handy for future use, but better safe than sorry. I mean, let's be real, she told herself. You're less than an hour off the plane and barely starting down the highway toward Harper's Crossing and you had a panic attack. You really think you're getting through the rest of the weekend unscathed? Not likely.
As she placed the paper bag inside her gigantic 'in case of emergency' carry-on bag, she discovered the source of the ringing.
She felt like an idiot. On the good side, she thought to herself, is the fact that I don't have to add tinnitus to the looooong list of symptoms that characterize my panic attacks. On the bad side? Apparently, I no longer recognize my cell phone's ring tone.
Picking up her iPhone, she swiped the screen to answer, saying warmly , “Hey Sophiebell!”
“Katie, where are you? I thought you would be here by now. Was your flight delayed? I can’t wait to see you,” Sophie squealed, the words tumbling out of her mouth one over another. Katie smiled to herself. She had always thought that Sophie could paraphrase that old Army motto to adopt as her own. 'I say more before nine a.m. than most people say all day!'
“The flight was fine. I am on my way, and I will be there in less than an hour. I can’t wait to see you, too!”
“Okay, hurry,” Sophie pleaded but then followed it up with the command, “but drive safe!”
“I will. See you soon, bride-to-be!” Katie tried to cover the stress in her voice with ebullience as she said goodbye and hung up the phone.
It's 8:30 a.m. on Thursday morning, she thought, repeating the mental math to herself. My return flight to California is at 7:00 p.m. Sunday night. All I have to do is get through the next four days—preferably without having a nervous breakdown! —and then I can wing my way back to my lovely, safe, predictable life in San Francisco.
Let the countdown begin.
Katie breathed out a long sigh as she pulled back onto the highway. She needed get her head on straight and pull it together. Facts, that was what she needed to focus on. Facts had always comforted Katie.
Fact: s he wasn’t a teenager anymore. Fact: she was an adult. Fact: she could handle this.
It had been ten long years since Katie Marie Lawson had set foot in Harper's Crossing, the town of her childhood and her youth. She had never meant to stay away this long.
When she originally left to California for school a decade ago, her plan had been to come back at Christmastime. Sitting at
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