The Bookish Life of Nina Hill(69)

She hated herself. At least today she knew why she was losing her mind; other days her anxiety would suddenly flower inside her, set off by a word. A look. A song on the radio she didn’t even remember hearing before. Her anxiety lurked inside like a parasite that occasionally threatened to kill its host; sometimes she could hear it breathing.

Of course, being scared of having a panic attack meant she was permanently on edge, which increased the chance she would have one, so she would berate herself for getting anxious . . . and so it goes, as Vonnegut would say.

She stood and ran cold water on the inside of her wrists, then threw more water on her face and rubbed it with a towel. Time to face the music.

Tom was sitting in her comfy chair, waiting for her. He’d closed the curtains, turned on the little bedside light, made the bed, and turned it down. A cup of tea sat on her bedside table, still steaming a little. It was everything she would have done for herself, and she was touched. She still needed to be alone, but she was touched.

“I didn’t know if you wanted tea, but I made it anyway.”

Nina nodded. She always felt so drained after an episode like this one, so emotionally hungover, every nerve in her body desperate to shut down and reboot later, when hopefully the storm would have passed.

“Thanks,” she said. “I feel better now.”

“I can stay,” Tom said.

“No, I’m OK.”

“But I’m happy to.”

“Thanks, but I’m fine. Honestly.”

“Are you sure? You can go to bed; I could read to you.” He stayed in the chair, even though he wanted very badly to go to her, to put his arms around her and hold her until she relaxed. As it was, she was standing in the bathroom doorway slightly crouched, looking wary and pale.

Nina smiled despite the twist in her gut. He didn’t get it. “That’s nice of you, but I need to sleep.”

He frowned. “So go to sleep. I won’t wake you up. I just want to make sure you’re OK.”

Nina took a breath, praying the panic would stay away for a few seconds more. “Please leave, Tom. I need you to go away.”

It hung in the air, the simple request.

He was confused. “I really like you, Nina. I care about you.”

“Tom, this isn’t about you. This is about me. I get anxiety; I told you. When I get overwhelmed like this, I need to be left alone to recover.”

“I want to help.”

Nina started to get a little ticked off. “Tom, you’re not listening to me. In order to feel better, I need to be alone. For as long as possible.”

He looked at her. “Like . . .”

Nina decided to risk leaving the bathroom doorway. She sat on the edge of her bed and picked up her tea. It was good, sweet and hot.

“Thank you for all this, for bringing me home and making the tea and everything.”

Tom crossed his legs. “You’re not answering my question.”

Nina was exhausted. “Which was?”

“How long do you need to be alone?”

Nina couldn’t sit anymore; she lay down and pulled the quilt over herself and closed her eyes. “Can I call you in a week or so? It’s all too much; the family, and now work is terrible . . . I need a few days to think and sort it all out.”

His voice was clear. “You’re not sure if I fit into your life right now?”

Nina shook her head, unable to find the right words.

She must have drifted off, because when she opened her eyes again, he was gone and Phil was sitting in the chair instead.

“Rough day?” asked the cat.

“Terrible,” she replied.

“I can catch you a mouse if you like,” he offered. “Protein is good for you.”

“I’m good,” she said, closing her eyes again.

The cat watched her face and yawned.

“Liar,” he said.

Much later, Nina woke again and lay there in the dark for a while, trying to sort out the inside of her own head. She reached for her phone and dialed a familiar number.

“Hey, Lou.”

Her nanny’s sleepy voice answered, “Hey, you.” Their traditional greeting, a rhyming couplet that always made Nina feel loved.

Louise murmured, “It’s late, baby. What’s going on?”

Nina looked at the time. “Sorry.”

“Doesn’t matter. You all right?”

“Not really.”

Nina heard a sigh, then a rustle of sheets. “Hold on, let me wake up properly, get myself some tea, and call you back. Gimme five.”

“Thanks.”

Nina sat up and rubbed her face. She piled her pillow behind her head and scratched the sheet until Phil stretched and made his way up to her side. He curled around her hand and kicked her with his bunny back feet. The phone rang.

Louise’s voice was much clearer. Nina could imagine her soft gray hair, her lined but still lovely face. Her yellow mug of tea. “OK, baby, let me have it.”

Nina took a deep breath. “Well, the first piece of news is that I have a dad.”

Louise said nothing for a moment. Then, “Well, I never reckoned your mom was the Virgin Mary type, so that makes sense.”

“She never said anything about him to you?”

“She never said. I never asked.”