When Darkness Falls(25)
Barbara tapped the schedule with her index finger and stared at Haley.
After a few more taps, Haley felt compelled to fill the silence. “Janine said she was glad to get the hours.”
“I’m sure she is.” Barbara leaned forward, arms crossed, elbows on her desk. “This is between us, all right?”
“Okay.”
“Dr. Whyle wasn’t exactly on the bandwagon about hiring you. He thinks musicians are unreliable, and he didn’t believe you really wanted to work full time. But you were the most qualified applicant.”
“And?”
“And people see what they expect to see. Dr. Whyle saw you as likely to be unreliable. Now he thinks he’s found evidence of it. The amount of time you take off.”
Haley’s underarms started to sweat. She and Devon were barely getting by with her working full time. She couldn’t lose this job. “I’ve hardly taken any time off. Two days for my honeymoon. Unpaid. That was it. Otherwise, it was a few shift changes, not time off.” Until Barbara mentioned it, it hadn’t occurred to Haley that changing hours with Janine was a problem. Barbara had approved both times. When she’d worked at the lighting store, no one had minded who switched hours with whom as long as the back counter was covered.
Barbara lifted her hand in a Stop gesture. “I know. Janine asks to switch hours as often as you do. But I’ve got too much else on my plate to run interference. Dr. Whyle knew he’d have problems with you, and he doesn’t like to be wrong. Don’t make it easy for him to fire you.”
“But I can’t win. If I’m doing well at the job, I’m proving him wrong. If I’m not, I’m incompetent.”
Barbara frowned. “I’d err on the side of competence, if I were you. You’re sure you need tomorrow night off?”
Haley swallowed hard and nodded. “I do. But I’ll stick to the schedule from now on.”
“Good idea.”
? ? ?
Haley paged through one magazine after another in the green and rose-toned waiting room. She hadn’t mentioned Barbara’s warning to Devon for fear it would discourage him from keeping the appointment. She’d have to be rigid about adhering to the clinic’s schedule, even if it meant cutting it close getting to jobs with the wedding band or not driving Devon to doctors’ appointments. Her job wasn’t only their main income, it was the source of halfway decent health insurance benefits. Which Devon needed now more than ever.
The receptionist called Haley into the doctor’s office. Her legs trembled. What if Dr. Richardson didn’t have any answers? Haley didn’t think Devon could stand being cooped up inside much longer and neither could she. She still went out alone, but she longed to be out enjoying things with him. Anything. Going to a movie, eating a Vienna hot dog from the sandwich place down the street, seeing a band play anywhere other than The Underground.
Haley sat next to Devon and took his hand. His palm was sweating. She gave his fingers a little squeeze, and he squeezed back.
“Devon’s developed a phobia of the outdoors,” Dr. Richardson said. She had a narrow face framed by silver-gray hair. “But the outdoors didn’t cause the attacks.”
“So what did?” Haley asked.
The doctor folded her hands on the top of her mahogany desk. Her fingernails were unpolished but had uniform rounded edges. Her face crinkled around her mouth and eyes when she spoke. “Stress. Anxiety.”
“So when it first happened, it was because he was nervous about the wedding?” Haley asked. “That’s the same thing the ER doctor said.”
“It isn’t that he’s nervous about a particular event. Stress builds. Imagine an open barrel.” Richardson curved her hands in the shape of a barrel. “Each time it rains, the barrel catches more water. Eventually it overflows. Stress is like that. When your mind perceives a danger, it sends your body adrenalin to help you fight or flee. That’s normal. It’s the response that helped your cavemen ancestors hunt and fight. But in today’s world, we face ongoing stress, not a one-time hunt or battle. And sometimes the adrenalin rush goes into overload. Your heart pounds, your breathing accelerates, you have what feels like a heart attack, but it’s really a panic attack.”
“How does that translate into being afraid of going out?” Haley said.
She was familiar with some of the concepts Richardson was talking about from the reading she’d done about stage fright when she’d first started performing. But she’d never read about panic attacks.
“What Devon’s really afraid of is having another attack.” The doctor turned back to Devon. “The first one happened as you left your building by the front door, so you began to avoid the front door. Now one has happened from feeling a breeze from outside, so you’re probably hesitant about going near windows, too, and are keeping them shut?”
Devon nodded. His hand relaxed a bit in Haley’s, and she could tell by his posture that he felt comfortable with the doctor.
“Phobias and panic attacks are the most treatable of any disorders I encounter. Your treatment will focus on facing your fears gradually. It’s known as desensitizing. I’ll also teach you some ways to relax and deal with stress.”
“I wasn’t under that much stress when this started,” Devon said.
“You work for yourself, as an entertainer and a businessman. That’s a lot of responsibility. Your first attack came right before you got married, something you never before envisioned yourself doing. Now you’re adjusting to living with someone after having lived alone. Stress doesn’t mean you aren’t happy with all of that, merely that you need to find a better way to deal with the normal tension that occurs.”