Rule of Thirds, The Read Online Free PDF Page B

knock on the first door in the hall. There’s no answer, and the room is empty. No patients, no plants.
    Easy peasy.
    In the next room there’s a woman lying in the bed, her eyes closed.
    “I’m just here to water your plants,” I tell her in my most professional voice. She doesn’t open her eyes. Her hair is long and white and fanned out over her pillow. I’m just thinking how pretty her hair looks and how I should consider having long hair like that when I’m old when my heart starts beating really quickly and the walls seem like they’re really close and my throat feels like there are cotton balls in it and I can’t breathe out my nose either because there are cotton balls in there too. I rush into the hall and drop the watering can, then fall to my knees. I push myself against the wall, sit on my bum and lock my head between my knees. The watering can is on its side, spilling the water.
    Inhale, count to five, exhale, count to 10 .
    Then I do the technique of talking myself through the situation, like Dr. Judy taught me.
    Me: “Why are you feeling weird?”
    Also Me: “The lady in the bed.”
    Me: “What about her?”
    Also Me: “She didn’t look like she was breathing.”
    Me: “Good. You’ve identified the source of your anxiety.”
    Also Me: “What’s good about that? How am I going to volunteer if I keep freaking out like this?”
    Me: “Focus on the present. Focus on the facts. That woman was just sleeping.”
    Also Me: “I know.”
    Me: “Lots of people get better in the hospital.”
    Also Me: “I know.”
    I say “I know” a few more times, breathing in on one word and out on the next, the way Dr. Judy told me to. Then I lift my head up and open my eyes.
    OK, Pippa. The first time you entered a hospital room with an actual patient inside? You know, since the last time you entered a hospital room?
    You failed.
    • • •
    It takes me awhile to clean up the spill in the hall with paper towels from the bathroom, but I finally get it dry and then refill the watering can and get back out into the hall. Dr. Judy says that the best thing to do when I’m in an uncomfortable situation is to stick it out and push through. Giving in to my anxiety and running from the situation makes it even harder to come back. So let’s try this again.
    In the next room there’s an elderly woman (awake, thankfully) sitting at the end of her bed, holding lipstick in one hand and a small compact mirror in the other. She looks over at me. Bright green eyeshadow goes from her lash line up to her eyebrows. Blush smears from her nose to her ears.
    “Oh hello!” she says as she looks up from the compact. “What do you think of this shade?”
    She purses her lips. The lipstick dyes her lips, yep, as well as a swath of the rest of her face. Maybe I debate what to say for a moment too long.
    “You hate it. Too dark? Too red?”
    “No. Well, it’s just that, it’s a bit overpowering for your skin tone,” I say, then regret my honesty. Who am I to judge?
    She frowns at her reflection. “Maybe you’re right.” She sighs. “I just wanted to look nice.”
    “Oh you do look nice!” I’m not being a very helpful or friendly candystriper. “Are you expecting someone?”
    “No. But doing my makeup makes me feel better, especially when I’m cooped up in here. I only just got around to it now, though, and the day’s half over.”
    The windowsill has a lineup of vases. The first holds daisies and is filled halfway with water. Am I supposed to top up the vase? Hannah didn’t mention anything about cut flowers in vases. I decide to go for it, then move on to the spider plant beside it. Then some other plant with large green and white leaves.
    “You forgot the one on the end.”
    I eye the pink plant at the end of the row. “Isn’t that a cactus?” I say, unsure.
    “Ha! I like you. You’re the first girl who’s known that in the two months I’ve been here. The others all fall for my little test and water