The Fireman's Perfect Match Page 12

  “I do know. I can’t imagine, either. I’ve traveled the world, so I know things can be uncertain and scary at times. I’ve been blessed never to have been attacked so far. Anyway, Jack is waiting out front. Let’s go, okay?”

  “Yes.”

  I can do this. It’s church. I can go to church. I feel simultaneously brave and pathetic. I never had to give myself a pep talk to go anywhere, let alone church. I lock the door to my house and double check that it is shut and locked behind me. Kat and I walk out to the car together. I feel good with her here. Safer. Not safe, but safer.

  When we arrive to the church parking lot, I feel claustrophobic and exposed. So many people are walking toward the building. I take a deep breath.

  Kat looks back at me, “You okay?”

  “I think so. Just feeling a bit overwhelmed.”

  Kat says, “If this feels uncomfortable, we don’t have to go to church. We can stay in the car or drive you back home.”

  Jack is quiet, but I see the compassion in his eyes as I glance up and see him watching me in the rear-view mirror. I feel ridiculous. This is church. I will be surrounded by people who love me. I’m safe. I can do this. I feel on the verge of tears as I watch myself struggle just to make myself walk into church.

  I breathe in and out again and say, “Okay. Let’s do this.”

  I’m trying to be strong. I can’t live paralyzed. I can’t.

  Surprisingly, Jack speaks up. “I’m going to walk in right next to you. You are going to be okay.”

  We get out of the car, and true to his word, Jack walks next to me like I’m the Queen of England and he’s my secret service. I honestly believe he’d take a bullet for me. Those Anders boys have hero in their DNA.

  Anders—Caleb. I start to feel this ache in my chest. Where did we go wrong? The fire wasn’t Caleb’s fault, but somehow, he no longer wants me the way he did before. Now, nothing will ever be the same.

  Caleb has always been brave. He lived through his injury. He doesn’t know what it’s like to be afraid. He jumps into fires for a living. I don’t want Caleb to think less of me.

  I’m debilitated and no longer fun to be around. I don’t know if we can ever make our way back to one another. What we had is over. That thought threatens to draw out the tears again, but we are walking up to the front doors and the greeter is extending me a bulletin, so I swallow down the urge to cry.

  We head into the sanctuary to take seats. I feel my throat constrict. It’s crowded in here. Are we sure no one in here is unsafe? Maybe a stalker or criminal is in the congregation today.

  Kat goes into the row first, and Jack steps back. He lets me in and flanks me on the other side. They are surrounding me with protection. A tear slips down my cheek. I dab it.

  The band starts playing worship music. I sing along and feel a peaceful settling in my heart and head. This may be the first time I have relaxed since the attack. They play two more songs. I sing along. When the third song ends, the person in the row behind me bends down to pick something up and bumps my chair on the way down.

  What is going on behind me?

  I feel a wave of nausea and my stomach clenches. My chest is tight again. It can’t be a heart attack. Maybe this one is a real heart attack.

  I feel dizzy.

  I can’t focus.

  I have to run!

  I take off past Jack and out the end of our row. I run to the restroom and lock myself in a stall. I shut the toilet lid and sit.

  My breath won’t come.

  I think I’m going to pass out.

  I need breath!

  I’m gasping for air. The tears I was holding in cascade down my face. I pull my feet up to my chest and sit rocking myself.

  The main door to the bathroom opens.

  I hear Kat’s voice say, “Mindy? Are you in here? Mindy?”

  “Yes—Kat.—I’m here.”

  I sob between my words. She gently knocks on my stall. I stand and unlock it and return to sitting on the lid of the toilet. She gets down to a squat in front of me, putting her hand out and rubbing my leg gently.

  She asks, “How long has this been happening?”

  I ask, “What?”

  “The panic attacks?”

  Awareness starts to seep in.

  I ask Kat, “Panic attacks. That’s what this is?”

  “Yes, sweetheart. I think you are having PTSD from the mugging. Have you talked to anyone?”

  “Only you and Jack know.”

  With that admission, more tears flow. Kat stands up and comes around next to me. She scooches me over so we are both sitting on the toilet lid as she wraps her arm around me. I lean into her.

  “You need to talk to someone, Mindy. What you are going through is normal. You can get through it. You won’t overcome this alone as well as you will with support. You know there’s a counselor here at church. Or you can go to one in town. Tell me you’ll think about it. I don’t want you suffering like this.”

  “I will. I didn’t know what to do. I’ve been paralyzed with fear.”

  “You don’t have to live in fear. I know you can get through this. And as much as I love girl time with you, I’m saying we could do better than hanging out together on a toilet. Let’s go sit in the car. Jack can come meet us after service.”

  When she says hanging out on a toilet, I laugh. It’s the first laugh I’ve had since that night. I think it’s a sign of hope. I will laugh again.

  ON MONDAY I CALLED to make an appointment with the therapist, Nancy Barnes, who works out of our church. I asked if she knows how to help people who have PTSD. It turns out she has special training in treating anxiety disorders.

  I have my appointment this afternoon. I’m nervous about seeing her, but also feel some hope. There may be a tunnel out of this dungeon of fear after all. I’m still not up to going running or even leaving the home at all. Kat and Jack took me to get groceries Sunday after church. I cancelled supper with Mom and Dad. I need to take things slowly. I don’t want to have a panic attack at their home and scare them half to death.

  As I walk around the corner of the Morgans’ house to get to my car, I put my back against the wall while I turn the corner. I hope they don’t see me doing this. I just need to feel like no one could grab me from behind. As soon as I clear the corner, I run to my car from that point. Once the doors are locked and I am buckled in, my heart slows, and I manage to drive my own car for the first time in well over a week.

  I pull into the parking lot at church. Sitting in a car feels safe. Officer Johansen’s car was a refuge for me after the attack. Getting out of a car feels vulnerable. I grip the steering wheel and pray.

  God, I need to get into church. Please help me get there safely.

  A line from my devotional comes into my head. It is from Psalm 23:

  Though you walk through the valley of the shadow of death you do not need to fear evil. I am with you.

  God is with me. I picture Jack walking me into church on Sunday, how protected I felt. God is with me. I get out of the car and briskly walk into church and down the hall to the counseling office.

  When Nancy Barnes opens her door, I greet her. “Hi”

  “Hi, Mindy. I’m so glad you came in. Please have a seat.”

  “Thank you.”

  She says, “I am sure it may have been a challenge even getting here today. Am I right?”

  “How did you know?” I ask.

  I look down. I feel shame that I can’t even do a simple thing like going from my home to my church in broad daylight.

  Nancy says, “You have been violated in an unexpected way. From what you told me on the phone, you were very brave, and you acted in your own defense. That doesn’t change the fact that you have been deeply impacted. For now, everything feels scary and vulnerable. Because you were taken off guard, your brain is hyper-alert. Does that make sense?”

  “It does. I’m just so out of my element. I have never been a fearful person. I live alone—but behind a fami
ly in their back house. I never gave my safety a second thought. I mean, I lock my doors, but I always came and went anywhere.”

  I tell Nancy, “We took self-defense as a teacher training. I actually thought, ‘I’ll never use this,’ but I took it because they wanted us to. What I learned in that class saved me. I don’t know what that man wanted from me—my money? Was he going to rape me? I don’t know.”

  A tear slides down my cheek. “And now I can’t function. I can’t even go out of my home. I don’t sleep well. I am having panic attacks. When I’m not having one, I fear the next one will come on.”

  My shoulders slump. It feels good saying all of this out loud, but it also overwhelms me. Will I ever be normal again?

  Nancy gives me a comforting smile. “We are going to do some work together. I don’t have a magic wand, but I do have a lot of tools and experience in helping people overcome pervasive fear. Most of them live full lives despite anxiety. I trust you will be able to really progress. I even believe you can live a life much like the one you had before the attack. There is hope, Mindy.”

  I breathe deeply when she says that. Hope. That’s what I lost. I lost hope.

  Nancy spends the rest of the hour teaching me how my thoughts, feelings, and perceptions influence my actions and behaviors. She quotes a verse from the Bible to me:

  We are taking every thought captive to the obedience of Christ.

  She says, “You can learn to hold your thought out like something you are looking at, like if you hold an apple and look around at it. Examine the thought to ask yourself if it is true. Can we try that right now? I’d like you to practice it with me.”

  I tell her we can try.

  She asks, “Tell me something you think regularly—a thought that leads to you feeling afraid.”

  “Sometimes I feel someone will come up from behind me, even in my own home when I am alone and locked in, or in my yard, when I know I am alone walking to my car past the Morgans’.”

  She says, “Okay. That’s a perfect example. So, let’s take that thought and hold it out in front of us and ask some questions.

  “You are alone in your home when this thought comes?”

  I say, “Yes.”

  “And you know for sure no one is there?”

  “Yes.”

  She says, “So, as this thought comes, you might ask yourself, ‘Is anyone really here?’ And what would you say to that?”

  I answer, “No. No one is here.”

  “Right. So, we know the thought is not real.”

  And, somehow, when she says this, it’s like a balloon that was filled with air in my chest pops. I feel like I can talk myself through a fear by focusing on reality instead of letting the thought run away like a car without brakes, careening me into danger.

  Nancy explains, “This tool is like any method. Sometimes it will work well. Other times, it won’t do the trick. But, it’s almost always helpful. Just because sometimes it may not work doesn’t mean it can’t be beneficial a lot of the time. Our approach will be multi-faceted. All the things we do here will work together to help you overcome your anxiety.”

  I feel so comforted and full of promise. I don’t have to be a prisoner to my fears. The man who attacked me will not have the final say over the quality of my life.

  After we practice taking my thoughts captive, Nancy encourages me to share what happened with some trusted people.

  She asks, “Wouldn’t you want to know if your friend or relative were going through this?”

  “Of course I would.”

  Nancy says, “And the people who love you will want to know too. Safe people can form a type of a net under you, like a tightrope walker. You are on a tightrope right now and you need the net. We aren’t meant to go through trials alone. Though certain parts of each trial will be ours to bear privately, God tells us to bear one another’s burdens in love. We do that for others, we need to let them do that for us.”

  I nod. “I see it now, when you turn the tables like that. I would never want a friend of mine to face this alone. I will tell a few more people. Thank you so much, Nancy.”

  “I really have no doubt you are going to move through this. There’s no pressure to get well fast. We grow and regress. We have setbacks and we surge. That’s to be expected. Don’t let any episode of panic or anxiety determine your overall progress. Look at the bigger picture and note how you grow. Taking a bird’s-eye view helps.”

  As we are about to close our session, Nancy says, “I’m going to text you a referral to a psychiatrist in town whom I trust. If you prefer, you can go to your primary care physician. I’m recommending a temporary prescription for a non-addictive anti-anxiety medication. You more than likely will not need this for more than a few months. We can play that by ear. I think it will be helpful if you are able to take something to assist you in quelling the fearful thoughts and feelings.”

  I tell her, “I don’t even usually take Tylenol for headaches.”

  She says, “I understand. This is a choice you can make. Medication at a time like this can be helpful. It’s not something you have to take forever. And, you might have to try a few until you find the one that works best. You can try and see what you think, or not. With the level of panic and the severe debilitating impact the anxiety has had, I think it would be a good help for now. I leave the choice completely up to you.”

  I tell her I’ll think about it.

  We close in prayer and Nancy gives me a hug. As we walk into the church lobby together, she commends me for the courage it took to come in and to seek help. I never looked at it that way. I felt like a weakling and a coward, but she is confirming the bravery it took to reach out instead of staying stuck. I feel like I could skip to my car. I just might.

  chapter nineteen

  Caleb

  I’M SITTING PROPPED on the couch with my leg extended out in front of me. The TV is on a sports channel, but I’m not watching, really. I’m staring out the window at nothing in particular. I don’t want to do much of anything. My concentration is off. I feel like there’s not much left to live for at this point.

  It’s been a few weeks since Mindy visited and we ended things between us. She’s obviously moving on. The guys are on a new fire—one I should be on. I can’t reach Jared until they are off this job. What would I talk to him about anyway? I could tell him Mindy and I broke up. He might tell me about the fire. All of it seems meaningless.

  Jack comes in the door from being in town at the shop. I hear him head into Kat’s office. I overhear the low murmur of their voices for a while. They walk into the living room together. Jack sits on a chair across from me and Kat takes the seat next to him.

  He looks at me with a combination of seriousness and compassion. “Caleb. I’m your big brother, not your dad, so I know I’m trespassing a bit to say what I’m about to say, but it needs to be said.”

  I brace myself for whatever it is he’s about to tell me.

  He looks at Kat and then says, “We’ve noticed a lot of changes in you since the accident. It’s understandable to be impacted. You took a huge hit. You are temporarily out of commission. But, man, you have never been like this. You are always the helium bringing others up. I’m concerned. We think it might be good for you to talk things out with someone, maybe see a counselor.”

  I say, “Jack, that’s not your business, really.”

  Jack says, “You are my business. You are the only family I have left on earth. Do you think Mom and Dad would want me to sit by while I watch you unravel?”

  “That’s easy for you to say! Mom and Dad! You are bringing them into this? That’s a low blow, Jack. You have Kat and the shop. You’ve got the life. Everything has been ripped from me. I can’t function. Mindy’s gone. I’ve got nothing.”

  Jack’s voice softens. “Your situation is temporary. I can’t speak for Mindy, but let’s assume you might not have the whole picture there. You’ve made some pretty drastic changes based on circumstances that will pass yo
u by and be memories in a year.”

  I turn so he doesn’t see my face. I feel enraged and embarrassed.

  Jack says, “Caleb. I don’t want you to lose hope. I care too much about you to not say something.”

  “If you think I’m depressed, I’m not, Jack. That’s extreme.”

  Jack runs his hand through his hair and looks at Kat with a look of desperation.

  Jack asks, “Would you do this for me, Caleb? Just call this guy. Go in once. What can it hurt?”

  I shrug. Maybe I should. I can get him off my back and make him happy. I know I haven’t been myself. It’s not depression. I’m working through what happened—plus I’ve lost Mindy and realized with the life I live I have to let her go.

  Jack pulls out a business card and hands it to me. A tension hangs in the air. Everything I’ve held inside me feels fragile. I really don’t want to talk about this, but on the other hand, I feel like I need to let it out. Maybe saying what I’m thinking will take some of the power out of it.

  I look over at Kat and Jack. They are staring at me with such concern.

  I say, “I don’t know, Jack.”

  Jack puts his arm around Kat who looks like she might start crying.

  He adds, “Bro. I’m not trying to cut you down. I honestly think this is going to help. The thing is, if you don’t address it, it’s not going to get better. I know you want your old self back. We’re here with you. We’re not pointing fingers. We’re just bringing this up because it needed to be brought out in the open. I kept thinking time would heal, but you seem to be getting even more despondent each week.”

  I ask, “What am I supposed to do? I’m at a loss, man. I feel so beat down.”

  Tears start to roll down my cheeks. I don’t feel like there’s any way out of this. I’m honestly glad Jack and Kat brought this up.

  Kat talks for the first time since they came in the living room. “Caleb, we love you. I love you like a brother. You are so very special to me. It’s been hard watching you after the accident. We know it’s been hard on you. You put up a wall and no one could get through. We’re here for you, Caleb. You don’t need to go through this alone.”