Nora Dodson is a "fast-talking, F-bomb-dropping, born-and-bred New Yorker". Harry Styles is no longer a member of One Direction. He's lovely, kind and a very odd young man, though he's entirely unhappy in his relationship. But then he meets Nora an...
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"Are you here?" I ask, as I walk through JFK.
"I am...the kids and I are parked out front." Jenna and Alex walk beside me and we make our way down to baggage claim. Our weekend in Philadelphia for a teacher's convention went well, though all I wanted was to get home to my family. As we'd flown, I felt an overwhelming bout of anxiety, which was strange. I used to fly all the time, and I'd just flown to and from Ireland, whilst feeling nothing. So why now? When I step onto the escalator, I realize what's happening. The paparazzi's camera flashes are blinding, but it should've been something I was used to by now. We were always bombarded by the slimy vultures. Today—right now, it's all very different. I begin to sweat profusely, my skin feels numb and chills cover the entirety of my skin. "The paps are inside, love, just a heads up." I can't answer him. Even though the escalator is carrying me down, I feel as though I'm frozen in place. "Nora?" Again, I can't seem to find the words—any words to say. When we get to the bottom, I stumble off and put my hand in front of my face, trying to make a beeline for the conveyor belt. Things were shouted at me from every which way and I can still hear Harry's voice calling me through the phone. Nora. Nora. Nora. I manage to lug my suitcase off the moving stream of bags, but when I do so, I think that maybe I'm having a heart attack. My chest stings with pain and I truly can not breathe. I stop, and my hand drops, giving the photographers a wide open shot. I slowly spin around, looking for a way out. Jenna and Alex both kneel down beside me as I drop to the ground, trembling. My vision blurs in and out...black to fuzzy colors, back to black. What was this? What on earth was happening to me?
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All the voices jumble together and I can't make out who's who, until I hear him. It wasn't through a speaker on an iPhone, he was here with me. "Back up, please...get out of the way—Nora!" I feel myself shaking with tremors, but I know the feeling of his hands. They're not Jenna's or Alex's...they're Harry's. I want to speak up, I want to beg him for help, but I can't. I feel as though the air is being pulled from my lungs, while the words are being shoved back down my throat, choking me. "Nora, baby, stand up, come on..." He lifts me now, "Come on, baby. Come on, I've got you. I've got you, Nora." Why did I feel like this? Why did it feel like I was going to die? Why can't I breathe or speak? Why? Why? Why? He pulls me along, though my legs are barely working. It feels more like I'm being dragged. He opens the car door and helps me in as an enormous wave of paps follow us out. Rosie and Peter's voices are quiet behind me and I feel the car speed away. "Mummy isn't feeling well, okay guys? Let's play the quiet game, yeah? Just for a bit..." Faintly, I hear them both agree. I grip the side of the passenger door and I try and get a handle on my breathing. Whatever it is that I'm doing, it's not working. However, what does seem to help, is Harry's gentle grip on my upper thigh. "Focus on taking deep breaths, Nor. Slowly, in and out. In...and out." I do everything I can to quiet my mind, and surely enough, I begin to calm down. My hands continue to tremble violently and my breathing is still ragged, but at least I'm breathing. I'm safe. Wherever Harry is—whenever I'm with him, everything is better. He's my refuge. I force my quivering hand over, and he gets the hint, wrapping his fingers around mine. "You're alright. You're okay." He coos, softly. The drive home feels unbearably long, and I haven't fully recovered from my—well, whatever the fuck it was, but Harry keeps his hand interlaced with mine and he converses lowly with Rosie and Peter, so that they're not too freaked out. I'm so afraid that they will be. When we finally pull up in front of our West Village home, I can think straight and I'm not convulsing like the great San Fernando earthquake of 1994. Harry comes around to help me but I shake my head.
"I can do it—let me do it." He still takes my hand and guides me out. I appreciate him, regardless. As we step inside, Rosie tugs on my sweater and Peter stands behind her.
"Mummy, do you want some hot chocolate? I can make some, I promise, I'm good at it." I kneel down and pull them both into my arms.
"That would be so nice, thank you." They both go running down to the kitchen and Harry turns to me right before I burst into tears. "I...I don't know what happened...I couldn't stop it, whatever it was..." He takes me into his arms and soothingly brushes my hair back with his fingers.
"Shh, shh...I know, angel. You had a panic attack."
"How do you know?"
"A couple of years back, well, back when we were in One Direction, Lou Teasdale had one. It took her a really long time to get back to normal. I was there when it happened, so I kind of knew what to do with you."
"I felt like I was dying...I couldn't even see..." He nods against my head. "And it was right in front of them, Harry...my meltdown is going to be all over the media tomorrow."
"Don't you worry about that, okay? I'll...I'll figure it out."
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that it happened..." He tightens his grip on me.
"No, don't. What happened, it was not your fault, okay? Believe me when I say that. Panic attacks are...you can't prevent them, at least not in the situation you were in." I cling to him, like he's my life boat in a horribly vast ocean. "I love you so much."
"Are the kids okay—are they alright?"
"They're fine." He immediately assures me. "They were a bit spooked, but...yeah, they're okay, I promise." Reluctantly, I begin to back away from him. He grips my shoulders and watches me carefully. "Why don't you go unpack, settle in a bit. I'll make sure they're not going to burn down the kitchen." I wipe away the tears from my eyes and, like the wonderfully doting husband that he is, he wipes at my nose before kissing it. "You're so beautiful." I squeeze his wrists before finally backing away.
"I love you too, so much." Before he descends downstairs, he gives me a warm, supporting smile.
