Allie was dashing down the stairs when her heart started pounding. Then her chest tightened, and she found it hard to breathe. She sat down, suddenly dizzy. She could hear her heart in her ears, pounding fast. What was going on? She found herself gasping for air.
She felt a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, are you okay?” It was no one she knew.
“No. I don’t know what’s going on . . .” Her chest was so tight. “It feels like a heart attack.” But what did she know? She’d never had a heart attack. But she’d never felt like this, either. The person ran off, then was back a moment later. He handed her a glass of water.
“Try to take a sip.”
She took a small sip, and the water tasted cool and sweet.
He took the glass from her hand. “Now can you breathe more slowly? I think you’re panicking. See if you can slow your breath.”
Allie had not done any yoga for years, but she tried to remember how to settle into her breath. It began to slow.
“Now drink some more water.” He handed her a cup. She took another sip, the water opening up the tightness in her throat.“Help is on the way.”
“What? I feel better already.”
“No way. You’re going to the hospital.”
Derek picked her up three hours later. She was sitting on an uncomfortable plastic chair with her jacket in her lap. He dashed over to her as soon as he saw her, dodging nurses and gurneys. She stood to receive his embrace.
“What happened?”
“Look, we can go. I’ve already signed everything. I’m fine.”
Derek glared at her.
“No, really. I’m fine. It’s embarrassing.”
He looked puzzled, but nodded. “Okay. The car is parked downstairs.”
In the elevator he started to ask her what had occurred, but she silenced him with a look. When they got in the car, she felt private enough to admit what had gone down.
“It was a panic attack.”
Derek took his hand off the key without starting the car and turned to her.“What? You’re not afraid of anything! We snorkel with sharks! You’ve given talks in front of the entire company!”
“It’s . . . okay, well. I got heart palpitations, then that scared me, then I hyperventilated, and it sent everything haywire.”
“But heart palpitations! That’s serious, right?”
“The doctor asked me how much coffee I drink. I said, eight, ten cups a day. She said, ‘Don’t do that.’”
Derek stared at her. Then he started to laugh. Allie was briefly angry, then relieved, and she started laughing, too. “I did this to myself!”
Derek’s laugh faded. “You have been running too hard. It could have been more serious. It still might. You need to cut out coffee.”
“How about cut back?”
“How about cut back work? You sleep four hours a night. No wonder you are living on coffee. Soon it’ll be an ulcer.”
“You get ulcers from a bacteria.”
“Which survives in the stomach because of stress!”
“Is that true?”
“Yes. You’d know it if you read more than industry news.” He grimaced. “This is not sustainable. You have to find a better way.”
“I was a little dehydrated also. I can drink more water.”
“No, Allie, no. You have to find a way to take care of you, and take care of us. You can’t sacrifice everything for SOS.” He started the car.
“It’s just for a little while.”
“You know that’s a lie. You know I know that’s a lie. Killing yourself is the SOS lifestyle. You have to figure out how to do the job without putting yourself in the hospital. Literally.” They pulled up to a red light. He turned to her. “Do you know how scared I was?” The light changed, and he pulled forward. “Also, I miss you,” he said without looking at her. “I want my wife back.”
Allie stared at the road. She didn’t know what to do. She was so close to getting QuiltWorld where she wanted it. She just wasn’t scaling well. She had to figure out what she could change.
Lying on the gurney had been horrible. They had oxygen on her and an IV, and she felt like she was on a crappy procedural cop show. She’d felt helpless and out of control. Then she started wondering if the ambulance could be made into a game. There was a time element and a mystery. Mysteries and secrets are always good for game engagement.
Then she’d had to wait forever for the doctor, and boredom had released all the tension in her body. She was sketching out a core loop for her ambulance game when the doctor finally came to talk to her. And then it was all her own dumb fault. Oh, God, what would she say when she was back in the office. Panic attack? Caffeine abuse? It all sounded so lame. And weak.
Derek was waiting for a reply, she thought. He seemed . . . extra alert. Or maybe he was just worrying. He was good at that. What would this trip to the emergency room cost? Would Patricia find out what it was? Would exhaustion sound good? Or weak? Maybe she could look up things on WebMD and lie. Would Patricia see the diagnosis via . . . HR stuff?
Where was she working that her diagnosis mattered? All that should matter was if she did her job. Which she didn’t that day. But every other day, she did. Her head just kept spinning in circles. “Can I put on some music?”
Derek paused. “I think we should talk about this a bit more.”
“Not while you’re driving.” She turned on the music. He acquiesced, visibly reluctantly.
Driving on the 101 was the most dangerous thing they did all day. There was an accident every day. But Derek was scared of flying. Every time he did it, he had to take a tranquilizer. Yet it was much safer than this drive. People didn’t understand the odds. This panic attack—how she hated that term—was unusual, but not dangerous. It was certainly easily fixed, though she knew there would be ugly headaches along the way. But Derek wasn’t going to see it. She didn’t suppose having one every day until he got used to it was going to fix anything.
They walked in the apartment silently. It wasn’t until the door was closed and she was on the couch that he jumped back in. “I want you to quit.”
“What?”
“This is a wake-up call! This job is no good!”
“I’ve only been been GM for . . . not even six months!”
“You’ve been at SOS for two years. It’s not being GM; it’s this toxic company.”
“Look, I know SOS is a problem, but QuiltWorld is a good game, and I’ve got some good people now. . . .”
“Then they should leave, too. Get out of the house.”
He’d hoped she’d laugh, she thought. Nope. “Look, I’m where I want to be. I don’t have to stay forever, just long enough to have a track record.”
“Is this Stockholm syndrome? What is wrong with you? Two years becomes three, then four? When are we going to start a family?”
“Oh, don’t you dare. There is plenty of time for that. I’m not even thirty.”
“I don’t want to be an old man trying to keep up with my kids.”
“Well, tough. If you make me choose between my career and having kids, you aren’t going to like the answer.”
“I . . . I didn’t mean it to be an ultimatum.” He ran a hand through his shaggy hair. He needed a haircut. “I don’t want to be an SOS widow. Widower.”
“It really won’t be like this forever. When the team is fully hired, it will quiet down.”
“Until the next crisis.” He paused. “When? When will you be home for dinner every night? When will we be able to go away for the weekend? When do I get to be married?”
“Soon. I swear soon.”
Derek shook his head and stood. “I’ll go make you some tea.” He didn’t believe her. Hell, she didn’t believe her. Dinner every night?