My Second Life Read Online Free PDF Page B

come,” I said. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” And I stood up and reached out and touched her hand, to try to make better what I’d said, what I’d done by coming here, and as I did I was shocked by a sudden tightening in my chest. I felt like I was being squeezed from the outside in, tighter and tighter, and I opened my mouth to try to pull in some air, but the air, it was less and less clear to breathe. I couldn’t grasp a breath, not even one, and I thought my chest would cave in with the trying. I pulled my hand away from Frances’s — and a breath came to me. I felt the oxygen seeping back into my lungs, my chest, rising and falling in relief. The panic subsided.
    â€œI have to go,” I said.
    Frances didn’t speak. She just watched me. She watched me as I walked out of the ward, out of her sight, and as soon as I was, I broke into a run. I ran through the corridors, down the cold stairwell, and I didn’t stop until I was outside in the bright and natural light of day.
    I sat on the wall in front of the main entrance of the hospital and put my head between my knees. I was immediately and urgently sick, all over the pavement between my feet. I raised my head to pull my hair out of my eyes and to wipe my mouth. People walked by, but no one came over, and I was glad. I didn’t want to see or speak to anyone. I just wanted to be alone, to be away from everyone. To cry and cry and cry.
    But the tears, they wouldn’t come.

 
    6
    I WALKED HOME. I T took me an hour. I was tired and my body felt heavy. Three buses passed me, but I didn’t care. However tired and emotionally sick I felt now, I had to be alone. I couldn’t sit with a stranger on the bus, and I couldn’t go home. I’d suffocate in my own sadness if I did. I’d been so close to my first life. I’d reached out and touched it. I’d never dared to think that it would have been possible before. But now it was, and it wasn’t in any way what I’d wanted it to be.
    I felt my phone vibrate in my bag as I turned onto our road. It was a text. Jamie.
    I didn’t see you this afternoon. You OK?
    I put my phone back in my bag and opened the front door and went straight up to my room. I needed to avoid Rachel. I quietly closed my bedroom door and slid down to sit with my back against it. Rachel called out a “Hello.”
    â€œHi!” I shouted back, trying to hide the upset in my voice.
    â€œYou want something to eat? I’ve made us lasagna.”
    â€œI’ll be down in a minute.”
    I pulled my phone out of my bag and looked at Jamie’s text again. He wanted to know if I was okay. He didn’t normally send me texts asking whether I was okay.
    I closed my eyes.
    I wanted to cry, but still, nothing would come.
    I screwed my eyes shut and held my breath, like I could wring out a tear, force something out of me, but all I could think about, in that moment, was Jamie and the way he’d looked at me yesterday in the café.
    Thinking about Jamie felt good. Better than anything else.
    I opened my eyes, looked at my phone, and texted him back.
    Went home sick. OK now. See you tomorrow.
    â€œIt’s on the table!” Rachel’s voice came up the stairs.
    â€œI’m coming!” I got up off the floor and looked at myself in the mirror. I grabbed my brush and pulled it through my hair so that I didn’t look so weird. I rubbed my face with my hands, as if I could wipe away the sadness and confusion. But it was all over me. So I tried a smile — a fake one, a practice — and I headed down.
    â€œAre you all right?” Rachel asked as soon as she saw me.
    â€œYeah,” I said, sitting down at the table.
    â€œYou’re flushed.” She stood up and put her hand on my forehead, like she did when I was small. I looked up at her and saw Mum. Not Rachel, but Mum. My first mum. Her soft blond hair and her twinkly eyes, and I