Image by 愚木混株 Cdd20 from Pixabay
(Every Sunday, I release a new short story in the ‘Sunday Story Time’ series! I write these stories the day they are published, usually within 2-3 hours. These stories could be about anything, but they will all be brief, 2-3 minute reads. Enjoy! )
Pawns and Panic Attacks
August Bell sat in his car outside of Great Escape Games, working through his breathing exercises, preparing to walk inside.
Inhale, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, exhale, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5…
…you can do this.
Fuck, why are my palms so sweaty, god damnit I’m probably gonna have to shake people’s hands. They’re gonna think I’m gross and nervous. I should just go home.
No. Fuck that. I have to go in.
August watched from his car as other chess players entered the store. A lot of kids. Carrying tournament chess sets in their green rectangular bags.
He took a deep breath and opened his car door. He put a foot on the pavement. It felt like he was climbing Everest. He could feel his heart rate quicken as he got out of the car. But he managed to get all the way out. He shut his car door and started walking, slowly, towards the entrance of the shop.
You’re fine. This is fine. You can leave at any time. Nothing in there is gonna hurt you.
He checked his pocket to make sure his anxiety meds were there. That was the backup plan. If everything went to hell in there he could run to the bathroom and take a Xanax. The doctor told him that was okay.
August opened the door to the shop and walked inside.
“Hi, can I help you?” came a friendly voice from behind the counter.
“Hey, yeah, I’m here for the chess club meeting?”
“Oh very cool, just head through the door in the back.”
August could feel tension in his body beginning to build. It was a familiar feeling. He worked on his breathing as he walked, slowly, to the back of the shop…
Inhale, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, exhale, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5…
He walked through a doorway and into a large warehouse space with a high ceiling and tables set up in rows. There were quite a few people in there, maybe 60-70, some playing chess already, but most just chatting.
August made a direct line for the bathroom. He needed to collect himself.
More breathing exercises in the bathroom. Water on the face.
He walked out of the bathroom and introduced himself to the club president.
“Hey, are you the man in charge?”
“That’s what they tell me,”
“This is my first time,” said August, “I really just came to watch,”
“Nonsense,” said the club president, “everybody plays, what’s your ability level?”
“Beginner”, said August. He was considering abandoning the plan and heading out to the car.
“Perfect! Why don’t you play with Mohammed,” he pointed to a kid at one of the tables, couldn’t have been more than 12 years old, “He’s a great teacher,”
August walked over to the table and sat down opposite Mohamed.
Halfway through the game, August started to spiral.
Why is my heart rate speeding up? Fuck my palms are getting sweaty again. If I have a panic attack right now it will be so embarrassing. I don’t want to freak this kid out.
He tried to gauge his pulse on his wrist slyly.
That has to be at least 130 beats per minute.
August put his hand in his pocket, feeling for the plastic baggie with his Xanax in it.
Inhale, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, exhale, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5…
He made his move. Not very carefully considered, he was barely able to follow the game.
It was a blunder.
He lost his Queen.
The game ended three moves later.
He lost handily to a 12 year old and he didn’t care.
“Good game,” Mohamed offered August a handshake across the board.
August could feel the tension in his body beginning to release. In his mind, he was already out the door and in his car.
“Play again?” came Mohamed’s voice.
Fuuuuck. I can’t stay here much longer. I need to get outside. I need to be by myself. Stop. Fuck you. This is a moment. You can say ‘yes’ and make progress or you can say ‘no’ and let it win.
“Let’s do it,” August said with a smile.
Inhale, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, exhale, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5…
—
“Attention in the terminal, baggage and personal items should not be left unattended. Any unattended items found will be treated as suspicious.” came the voice over the speakers.
August was seated at his gate.
Okay, 20 minutes until boarding. You’re gonna be okay. The plane can get to the ground quickly if there’s a medical emergency. The odds are high that there will be a doctor or at least a nurse onboard. It’s just 5 hours. You’ve survived every 5-hour period in your life up to this point, why would this time be any different?
Inhale, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, exhale, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5…
In 20 minutes, August must board a plane for a non-stop flight to Atlanta. It was a business trip that he couldn’t avoid. He’s been dreading this trip for months and preparing for it as if he were an Olympic athlete.
The trips to the chess club were training runs. Practice. He survived those trips. They even made him stronger.
But this was the ultimate test.
Five hours in a small metal tube. Hurtling through the air. Alone. No familiar faces. Surrounded by strangers. Medical help could be far away if anything went wrong.
“Now boarding flight 2932 non-stop to Atlanta,”
August gathered himself and started to make his way through the crowd towards the gate agent.
You got this. Easy. Just breathe.
Inhale, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, exhale, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5…
The agent scanned his boarding pass, “Welcome Aboard, Mr. Bell,”
August made eye contact with her as she smiled at him. He felt reassured.
Boarding the plane went off without a hitch. August found his seat, stowed his bag, and sat down with his headphones playing soothing music.
Hugh Laurie’s Didin’t It Rain album.
All was well.
—
Four hours into the flight, the music stopped.
August’s headphones had run out of battery. A critical oversight. He was relying on the music to keep his mind occupied.
August felt his palms getting sweaty. He started to feel out of breath.
Did these really just die? Fuck. It’s fine. You’re going to be fine. How much time is left on this flight…an hour. 60 minutes. Six zero. That’s ten minutes six times.
August watched his phone. Waiting for the minutes to tick by.
He felt the tension building in his body. He was in his head.
Oh god, was that a heart palpitation?! Maybe I’m just hungry. I can’t die right now. I don’t want to die. I haven’t even had kids yet. What if there’s nothing? It’s black. I don’t want to die alone.
The plane hit some turbulence.
Here it comes. Oh god. Why did I do this? I’m trapped in this fucking tube. I’m gonna have a panic attack. Breathe.
Inhale, 1,2..fuck I feel like I’m gonna pass out I can’t pass out don’t pass out don’t pass out don’t pass out oh god it’s happening you’re having a panic attack right now this is the worst case why does this happen to me Jesus Christ I can’t handle this
August was covered in flop sweat. Squirming in his seat and gripping the armrests on either side of him as if they held his salvation.
What he had dreaded for months was happening.
He was having a full-blown panic attack. On a plane. Alone.
You have to breathe August just breathe slow your breathing you can’t die from a panic attack you can’t die from a panic attack you can’t die from a panic attack..slow down and breathe
Inhale, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, exhale, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5… …okay you can do this
Inhale….exhale….
Do you feel that? Your heart rate is slowing down. Keep breathing. You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re okay.
Inhale….exhale….
August’s flight landed in Atlanta and he was exhausted. His shirt was wet with sweat. He felt like he had run a marathon while being chased by a bear.
The plane deboarded and he found the first seat he could in the terminal and slumped down.
He was exhausted, yes, but he felt something else.
Euphoria? What was this?
By himself in the terminal, August smiled ear to ear. Tears welled in his eyes.
You fucking did it, man. You had a panic attack and you handled it. You got through it.
THIS was a moment.
It was the first time he was able to calm himself down.
It was a huge step.
August sat in the terminal for an hour. Soaking up the feeling. He felt relaxed. Euphoric. Happy.
He had conquered a demon.
—
August returned from Atlanta a changed person.
He had a newfound confidence in his ability to handle even the worst panic attacks.
It was the beginning of a journey back to self-reliance.
Back at the chess club, he sprung out of the car. Walked briskly into the store and through to the back.
“Hi Allen!,” he greeted the chess club president, “how are you?”
“Better than I deserve,” Allen replied.
“Is Mohamed here? I’d like to play him again,”
“Right over there,” Allen motions to the far table.
“Thanks!”
August sat down across from Mohamed, who had already set up his board.
“Can we play again?” August asked.
“Sure. You go first.” Mohamed motioned towards the white pieces set out in front of August.
August took a deep breath.
Let’s try the Ruy Lopez.
August pushed his e2 pawn forward two spaces into the center of the board.
“Your move,” he said.
He removed his hand from the piece and placed it in his lap.
His palm was dry.
MW 