Second Chances

Panic Attack In Reality

When I woke up after what happened the other day, I couldn't stop thinking about Abby and how she calmed me down. In this other life, Abby and I seemed so close. I mean, she was able to recognize that I was having a panic attack and helped me come out of it.

But in reality. . .

I looked around my office, searching for Abigail. When I found her, I couldn't look away. How had I never noticed how she floated around the office?

The longer I stared at her, the more the feeling that there was something I was missing. I tried to figure out what it was that I was missing or forgetting but couldn't. I wasn't even sure what the feeling was. What I did know was that every time I thought about Abigail, that feeling got worse. It was kind of like deja vú. And it was painfully obvious that I was missing some key information.

Without really thinking, I grabbed Abigail's personnel file.

Abigail Weston, 26 years old.
Born and raised in the area.
Graduated from NYU with a bachelor's degree in English and an associate's degree in pre-law.
Paralegal certification completed in 2018

"Prelaw?" I mumbled. "And a paralegal certificate? Then what is she doing as my assistant?"

My eyes glanced back up at the part where it said that she was born and raised in the area. I must've read that part fifteen times.

I stood up and started pacing across my office. Abigail was born here and so was I. I couldn't think straight as I racked my brain. Why couldn't I let it go that Abigail was born and raised here? I already knew we went to the same school since elementary school. Why was I so focused on the "born" part?

"Umm. . . Sir? Are you alright?"

I held onto my desk, struggling to catch my breath. I heard what sounded like files being put down before I felt Abigail gently touching my shoulders. She used her finger to lift my head so I was looking at her.

"You need to sit down, okay?" She said, her voice soft and instantly comforting. She smiled as she helped me sit in my desk chair. "There you go. Okay, now, can you hear me?"

I opened and closed my mouth, unable to answer her. The room was still spinning and it was hard to focus on her.

"Zac," she whispered as she knelt in front of me. "Are you alright? Breath for me, okay?

"What's. . . What's happening?" I gasped.

"You're having a panic attack," she said, oddly calm.

"A panic. . ."

"A panic attack," she nodded.

"What do. . . What do I do?"

"You breathe," she whispered. "Just take a deep breath and focus on what's around you. Look around the room and find three things you can touch, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste."

"What?" I stuttered.

"Zac, look around the room. Find three things you can touch. Do it for me."

I studied her face before looking around my office. "I can touch my briefcase, those files, and my keyboard."

"Good," she smiled as she reached up and moved some hair out of my face. In the midst of a panic attack, her hand cupping my face was incredibly comforting.

"Now, I need you to name two things you can smell."

"The air freshener and the popcorn Andy made in the breakroom. "

"Great," she continued to encourage me. "Lastly, one thing you can taste."

"My cup of coffee on my desk."

"See?"

"See what?" I asked.

"Your panic attack is over."

I looked up at her smiling at me. "How did you do that?" I asked under my breath.

"I used to have them in middle school," she said, her facial expression changing. She looked down at her hands, avoiding my eye contact. "My mom taught me how to handle them."

Her mom? I thought I was the one who taught her that. . .

* * * * *

"Here," Abigail said as she walked back into my office. "Drink this."

"What is it?" I asked, my breathing still a little uneven from my panic attack.

"It's Jasmine Tea," she explained. "Whenever I was coming out of a panic attack, it took me a while to fully calm down so my mom would make this for me to help."

"Thanks, Abby."

My breath got caught in my throat when I accidentally called her Abby instead of Abigail.

"What did you just call me?" She asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Sorry," I stuttered. "I haven't been sleeping and it slipped out. I apologize, Abigail. It won't happen again."

She nodded, a weird look in her eyes as she left.