Flying Over Water Read online

  blood tests,

  an overnight stay.

  I suffered through it all, before being discharged from the hospital first thing Wednesday morning. All I wanted was to go home, take a long, hot shower, and sleep in my own bed. Instead, Mom drove me straight to her therapist’s office, which didn’t look like a therapist’s office at all, but like a Florida bungalow, painted yellow with white trim. It even had a palm tree in the front yard.

  Mom sat down in one of the rocking chairs on the front porch. “Sit,” she said. “We’re a few minutes early.”

  This part of Hyde Park had some quaint bungalows that had been converted into offices. I sat and watched traffic speed by.

  “I think you’ll really like Dr. Kelley,” Mom said. “She’s easy to talk to.”

  I shrugged, keeping my eyes on a driver in a red convertible, who’d slowed down and seemed to be lost. Lost—I knew what that felt like.

  Mom reached over and patted my arm. “I wish you’d talk to me.”

  “I will, but not right now. I’m sort of nervous.”

  Mom checked the time on her phone and sighed. “Come on. We have to fill out new patient forms.”

  I was happy to complete the forms myself because it gave me something to do. Name, address, cell phone, birth date, Social Security number. I paused by the question that said, Reason for today’s visit. I could have probably written an essay on that one, but since there wasn’t a whole lot of space, I scribbled panic attacks.

  After Mom turned in the forms to the receptionist, we made our way down a short hall to the second room on the right. The walls were painted a soothing mint green, and a comfy sofa and two chairs had been slipcovered in cream-colored denim.

  Dr. Kelley rose from behind a sleek desk made of dark wood. She hugged Mom, and then shook my hand. “Jordyn, I’m Dr. Kelley.”

  Dr. Kelley looked like a model—long brown hair, a nice tan, and eyes the color of dark chocolate. I figured she was in her late thirties, like Mom. “Have a seat,” she said, gesturing toward the sofa.

  I sat down, leaning against a floral throw pillow. Mom sat beside me, and Dr. Kelley across from us in one of the overstuffed chairs. “When I’m working with a young person,” Dr. Kelley said, “I always start by talking to the family about confidentiality. Jordyn, what you say here is completely between us, but there are a couple of exceptions. One, if you were to say or show signs of harming yourself, or someone else, ethically I’d be required to speak up; and two, a judge has the right to subpoena your records, if there were any sort of legal proceedings.”

  I nodded. “Okay, but what about if one of my parents called you for an update?”

  “I would refer them back to you.” Dr. Kelley turned toward Mom. “I hope you understand that if Jordyn doesn’t have privacy, she won’t open up to me, and I won’t be able to help her.”

  Mom tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Don’t worry about us interfering. Jordyn’s dad and I trust you.”

  Dr. Kelley smiled, revealing perfect teeth. “Great. Now that we’ve established the ground rules, I need to talk to Jordyn alone.”

  Mom squeezed my hand. “I’ll be in the waiting room if you need me.”

  Dr. Kelley looked down and flipped through the papers on her clipboard. “The hospital faxed over your test results, and your heart is completely healthy.”

  I picked up the throw pillow and hugged it to my chest. “Yeah, but sometimes my heart doesn’t feel healthy.”

  Dr. Kelley leaned toward me. “We’re going to work on that. The more you tell me about your attacks, the better I can help you.”

  I took a deep breath and started from the beginning—the moment I dove into the pool a couple of months ago. Then I explained about the miscarriage, and how I hadn’t swum well since. I told her about test anxiety, and how yesterday’s attack had been epic—way worse than all the others combined.

  Dr. Kelley nodded. “Wait. Let’s talk about that. Did you have any added stress last week?”

  “No, not really. I mean … I was a little worried about my new Muslim friends. After the mosque fire, I was afraid they wouldn’t feel welcome in Tampa, and I thought a lot about my dad saying groups like the Ku Klux Klan are on the rise, but I don’t think any of those things caused me to freak out.”

  “A panic attack is usually the culmination of a great deal of stress,” Dr. Kelley said. “Worrying about the world we live in could certainly be a contributing factor, though. How are you feeling today?”

  “A little nervous about being here.”

  Dr. Kelley looked up from her notes. “Most patients are. I can’t make your anxiety go away, but I can teach you how to manage it. It’s good your parents know about your attacks because support reduces stress. You might consider telling some of your closest friends and teammates too.”

  So far, I’d only told Noura, but after yesterday’s meltdown, I’d have to tell my teammates something. I knew they’d all be whispering and wondering until I did.

  Dr. Kelley gave me an encouraging smile. “Jordyn, you’re not alone. About six million Americans experience panic disorder every year.”

  “Six million? That’s a lot of people!”

  “More than the entire population of Tampa,” Dr. Kelley said.

  I imagined all that anxiety hovering over the earth like a storm cloud. “What is everyone afraid of?” I asked.

  “It varies. Some people are afraid to fly, or drive on expressways, or attend a crowded event—like a concert. Different people have different anxiety triggers.”

  “What about water?” I blurted out.

  “Sure,” Dr. Kelley said, “water could easily be an anxiety trigger for some people, but regardless of what triggers an attack, they all have the same physical cause—an imbalance of oxygen and carbon dioxide.”

  “Mom wanted me to mention that I’m teaching my friend Noura to swim.”

  “Oh,” Dr. Kelley said. “I know about Noura. She’s the daughter of the woman your mom tutors, right?”

  “Yes, that’s her. She’s afraid of water because her best friend drowned fleeing Syria.”

  Dr. Kelley winced. “How tragic, but teaching Noura is an excellent idea. When you shift attention away from your own anxieties, your central nervous system releases positive endorphins. That’s a fancy way of saying that helping Noura will make you feel better too.” She paused and smiled. “Ready to get started? Learning proper breathing techniques should be really helpful for you.”

  When she said breathing techniques, I remembered the way Noura had rescued me. “I’m ready.”

  “The first technique is called square breathing. We’ll breathe in for a count of four, and out for a count of four.”

  I slipped off my sandals, tucked my legs underneath me, and closed my eyes. Dr. Kelley spoke like a yoga teacher. “Breathe in, two, three, four. Breathe out, two, three, four.”

  I followed Dr. Kelley’s voice, breathing in and out, picturing ocean waves lapping against soft sand. Every time my mind wandered, I brought it back to the beach.

  After we finished, Dr. Kelley called Mom in and gave her a quick overview of our meeting. “Lori, your support is vital to Jordyn’s progress,” she said, and handed Mom a guided meditation CD. “You might try a nightly mother-daughter meditation practice. It would be good for both of you.”

  Mom looked down at the CD cover. She ran her index finger across it. “We’ll start tonight. Jordyn’s dad and I will do whatever it takes to help her get well.”

  “I appreciate your support,” Dr. Kelley said.

  Dr. Kelley looked away from Mom and over at me. “How are you feeling after our session?”

  “Better,” I said. “A tiny bit better.”

  In Jordyn’s absence, Ammar and I had an appointment with the principal after school. “Do you think this is a good idea?” I whispered.

  Ammar slouched beside me in the school office. “After what happened in the library, yes,” he replied, his voice troubled.<
br />
  I sighed. He was right. The library had been the last straw.

  Since arriving at school, we’d tried to find a place for dhuhr prayers, and many times we’d missed them altogether. First, we’d tried a spot behind some leafy trees in the courtyard. It was a little uncomfortable since it was out in the open and we’d gotten strange looks and whispers. We had managed to deal with it, until Ammar got an empty soda can thrown at the back of his head. I had turned around to see who’d done it, and a group of kids lounged near the door. One was Nick, standing beside a tall, handsome boy with dark hair and a smirk on his face. A few girls stood with them, and they all pretended like nothing had happened. Then we’d moved inside, finding an unlocked classroom. But within a week, the elderly janitor, Mr. Lopez, found us. He’d stood politely as we’d finished up our prayers, but told us that we couldn’t use the room again. Finally, we’d stumbled onto the perfect location—the stacks at the back of the library.

  Ammar stood in one row, tucked between old encyclopedias, while I stood in the other, to his right. Today, I’d been in the middle of prayers, but I must admit my thoughts kept wandering to Jordyn: the way her face looked covered by an oxygen mask as she was loaded into the ambulance. Since our apartment was a block from the pool, her father had dropped me off at home before hurrying to the hospital. Mama and I had sat, drinking tea and worrying, until he’d called later last night and said that she was okay. I’d told Mama about Jordyn’s episode before our social studies quiz. She had been surprised and saddened that we both suffered in the same way. It had been a year since I’d seen Dr. Barakat and although she’d helped me with my anxiety, it still lingered. I’d told Mama that I was fine, that I was going to conquer my fears by learning how to swim with Jordyn. At least, I hoped Jordyn would still be able to teach me …

  As footsteps had approached, I’d tried to push thoughts of Jordyn away and focus on my prayers. I hadn’t worried, thinking it was Mrs. Warner. She usually sat at the front desk and we felt safe, as if she were watching over us.

  “Look, the terrorists are praying,” muttered a deep, gruff voice. It was followed by a feminine giggle.

  I froze, huddled on the floor. Three sets of shoes appeared beneath the stacks to my right. First there were sneakers, one set scuffed and black, a swoosh along its side. The second was smaller, dark purple high-tops with broken laces. The third pair was made from expensive leather.

  “I want to know why they were allowed into the country. Weren’t Muslims banned?” asked another boy.

  Fear and anger surged through me as I tried to identify their voices.

  “Shhh,” whispered the girl. “The librarian will be back any minute.”

  “Oops,” said the first boy, and without warning a stack of books came thudding down onto my back.

  “Ow,” I grunted, covering my head, more in shock than in pain.

  “Noura, are you all right?” yelled Ammar.

  I could hear him scrambling to get to me as the three sets of sneakers took off. With Ammar’s help, I’d pushed the books off, but by the time we ran to the front of the library, the trio had vanished.

  So here we were, sitting in front of a large, organized desk that belonged to the principal, Mr. Thorpe. It turned out he was equally as large and organized as his desk, with a neatly trimmed brown beard.

  “Hello, Noura, Ammar,” said Mr. Thorpe with a smile. I noticed that his front tooth was crooked. “Thanks for coming in. I’ve had a chance to review the email from Mrs. Maisel. It’s a request for a place to pray, correct?”

  “Yes,” I said, while Ammar nodded.

  “We have been praying in different locations,” I said in a rush. “And now we feel that it would be good to have a safe … peaceful place to pray. So we are not in anyone’s way.”

  Mr. Thorpe looked over the silver rims of his reading glasses and frowned for a second. “Were you experiencing harassment from other students?”

  “Harassment?” I said, my voice squeaking a little.

  “No,” said Ammar emphatically. “No harassment … no problems. We just need a more private spot.”

  I pressed my lips together, willing my tongue to stay silent. I had wanted to tell Mr. Thorpe the truth. That there was harassment … problems. But Ammar had been adamant. We couldn’t say anything. If it got out we’d complained, things could get worse.

  “Okay, I just wanted to be sure,” said Mr. Thorpe, leaning back in his leather chair. “There is a district policy about release time. A student is allowed a certain amount of free time to follow a tenet of his or her faith.”

  “How does that work?” asked Ammar.

  “It means that students can gather to pray as long as the same accommodations are made for students of other faiths,” said Mr. Thorpe.

  “That sounds fair,” I said with growing excitement.

  “I spoke with the staff about a suitable location, and it turns out there’s an unused equipment room by the gym,” Mr. Thorpe said. “Talk to Coach Stevens and he’ll show it to you.”

  “Thank you!” Ammar and I said in unison, causing us all to laugh.

  As we left the office, Ammar and I gave each other a relieved look. We had found a safe place to pray, a place that other students could use too, if they wanted. I couldn’t wait to tell Jordyn.

  After my appointment with Dr. Kelley, I took a long, hot shower, pulled on my favorite pajamas, and rummaged in the closet for Winnie the Pooh. I hadn’t slept with Pooh in a long time, but hugging him made me feel safe.

  When I woke up, Mom was sitting in a chair beside my bed, just watching me. She reached out and touched my cheek. “I love you so much,” she said. “Anything that hurts you, hurts me.”

  This was old Mom, the one I’d been missing. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

  Mom nodded. “I know, but I’ve been so caught up in my own problems that I haven’t paid enough attention to you, and that needs to change.”

  “It’s okay, Mom.”

  She shook her head and said in a trembling voice, “No, it’s not, but I need you to forgive me, and I need to forgive myself too.”

  “Mom, you didn’t do anything wrong.” The guilt was creeping in again, threatening to smother me. “I’m the one who should be apologizing.”

  She frowned, and her forehead got those wavy worry lines across it. “Why in the world would you need to apologize?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, but tears leaked out anyway, and once I started crying, I couldn’t stop.

  Mom climbed in bed beside me, and held me as if I were a baby. “Shh,” she whispered. “Shh. Everything will be okay.”

  I cried harder, big ugly tears, the ones I’d been holding inside for weeks.

  “Tell me what’s wrong,” Mom said.

  “I’m … I’m an awful person,” I sobbed, “and I’m afraid you won’t love me anymore.”

  Mom hugged me harder. “Jordyn, there is nothing in this world you could ever do that would make me stop loving you.”

  “B-b-b-but, it’s my fault. I didn’t really love the baby until after it was gone!”

  Mom kept rocking me. “Oh, honey. Is that all? It’s only normal to be afraid of change.” She kissed the top of my head. “And it had been just the three of us for so long that a baby would have been a big change, but you’d have been a great big sister. As soon as you held the baby for the first time, you would have fallen in love.”

  “You really think so?”

  “I know so,” Mom said. She smoothed my hair behind my ear. “Looks like I’m not the only one who needs to forgive herself. Sometimes being human is the hardest thing of all.”

  When I woke up from my second nap, I was cuddling Pooh, and Mom was cuddling me. “We slept most of the day away,” she said.

  I reached for my phone from the nightstand beside my bed. “I want to send Coach a text and see if I can stop by.”

  “Why don’t you wait until tomorrow?” Mom asked.

  “Because I know my teammates ar
e wondering what happened to me, and I’d rather tell them myself and get it over with.”

  “All right,” Mom said, “you’re right. The truth usually nips speculation in the bud.”

  Coach was staring out her office window, with the door open. “Coach?”

  She turned, and a huge smile spread across her face. “Boy, it’s good to see you standing there. You scared me half to death yesterday. But that girl, the one wearing the hijab, she was amazing!”

  “Noura, her name’s Noura, and she is amazing.”

  Coach sat down behind her desk. “Have a seat, Jordyn.”

  I leaned back in my chair and stared at the ceiling. I didn’t know how to start, but Coach helped me out. “I know about your panic attacks. I called your mom at the hospital.”

  I kept staring at the ceiling. “I met with a therapist this morning.”

  “Jordyn, look at me,” Coach said. “That’s nothing to be ashamed of. If you’d broken a bone, we’d have called in an orthopedist; this is no different. You’re seeing a doctor to get well.”

  Coach would probably never know how much what she’d said meant to me, and I couldn’t think of words big enough to tell her. “I … I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

  “It’s absolutely true,” she said. “Now, what do you want to do about your swimming? I’d recommend you keep practicing with the team, but put off competing until your therapist thinks you’re ready.”

  I nodded, and my eyes brimmed with tears because taking a break felt like quitting, but I knew deep down I needed time to heal. “Coach, you know Noura, that girl you said was so amazing?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m going to teach her how to swim.” I told Coach about Noura’s fear of water and about Maryam.

  Coach’s eyes twinkled. “Jordyn, you have the heart of a champion. Let me know if I can help. When I teach you guys a new skill, I feel like a million bucks. I’ll bet helping Noura will be like that for you.”

  I followed Coach to the locker room and took a deep breath before opening the door. “Jordyn!” the girls screamed. Lea and Bailey got to me first, pulling me into a hug, and then everyone else piled on.