Ink & Interruptions

            My eyes were locked on the front door that stood three feet in front of me—the doorknob seeming to pulse in time with my heartbeat. You can do this. I took a step toward the door but found myself frozen again as the past leaked out from around the door. Family dinners spent wedged between Kyle and my mom. Aunt Julia leaning over the table to straighten the center piece—something always just slightly off. Days spent playing basketball in the backyard, giggling when Kyle chased me around the court screaming about double dribbling and traveling as my version of basketball blurred with football. Summers spent lying on the grass listening to our dads debate about the best way to grill meat. And all the nights spent curled under Kyle’s arm as the latest scary movie played out across the living room tv. Memory after memory wafted over me, the flood of emotions causing me to take a step away from the wooden barrier that was holding it at bay.        

            I ran my hands through my hair—knowing that the movement would cost me a few of the curls I’d worked to create this morning. I’d woken up with a pounding head, six notifications, and so much anxiety that my legs felt like Jello as I dragged myself out of bed and towards the shower. I usually started every Saturday with a walk, but the thought of being outside with only the constant chime of the clock tower and my thoughts to keep me company sounded like the furthest thing from comforting, so I opted for a long shower.

            I spun the knob on the shower and began to work myself out of my clothes, sighing as the reflection in the mirror offered me zero comfort. Jenna in her blue dress flashed through my mind again as I stared at the mirror—my eyes trailing down every inch of my skin. It felt weird to stare at myself like this, to search the pores on my face for some answer to who I was. My eyes felt dull—the blue around my pupils faded like a film had settled over them. I kept staring, leaning in in hopes that closing the distance would push away the fog enough for me to find what I was looking for, but all I found were more insecurities and confusion. After another moment, I closed my eyes and pushed away from the counter, a rush of air bursting from my mouth as I moved back across the small space towards the shower.

            Steam rose above the curtain, a clear indicator that the water was running hot, but I slid the fabric back and stepped into the tub—willing the powerful blast of heat to sear away my thoughts.  “I’m perfectly fine the way I am.” I whispered, remembering all the self-affirming things I was supposed to say to myself.

            Five years ago, I would have scoffed at the idea, but after Kyle left, my mom sent me website after website about self-love and self-acceptance. When I’d opened the first one, “Reignite Your Inner Strength After Heartbreak,” I thought my mom had finally gotten the picture—he wasn’t coming back. I’d run to her room holding up my phone and smiling. We were going to make it—she was still hurting, and so was I, but we were going to make it.

            I’d swung the bedroom door open and found her tucked beneath her blankets, her glasses perched at the end of her nose as she tapped away at the computer resting in her lap.

            “Mom?” I pushed further into the room, extending my phone towards her.

            She looked up from her laptop and smiled. “Oh, Evie. Did you get that article I sent you?”

            “Yes.” My voice was excited as I practically skipped around the bed and plopped down beside her. “I was surprised when I saw it. I mean I know this stuff with Kyle has been hard for you, but I think it’s for the best.”

            She nodded, her eyes shifting back to her computer as her fingers flew across the keyboard. “I couldn’t agree more. Using this time for yourself could really make a difference.”

            My smile grew wider as the weight of expectations and my failed future lifted from my shoulders—the sudden absence making me feel as though I was hovering above the earth. “Mom, you have no idea what this means to me.” I said, reaching out for her hand.

            She stopped typing, so she could hold my hand, and using her other one, she removed her glasses, placing them on top of the keyboard. “Well of course I do.” She turned to face me. “Kyle is your future—letting him go is just not an option.”

            I slammed back into the earth—my heart sinking below the surface as everything pushed back into it. “Wait…what?” My mind grasped for words; the sudden wave of panic dragging down the corners of my mouth. “But the article said…Mom, you sent me that article.” I held out the phone, and as I did, I scanned the title again, but this time, my eyes snagged on the print slightly below it. “How Embracing Self-Love Can Help You Win Him Back.”

            Mom was nodding again, as she picked up her glasses, and twisted her computer towards me so I could see her screen. “Look at how many I’ve found.” I dropped her hand and pulled back, each tab felt like a new wound—every partial title promising self-love and acceptance, but I knew now what I was seeing. This was mom’s new plan, her way of carrying on after Aunt Julia. To her, my future was still Kyle’s. She was never going to let go.

            I forced a smile, the movement of my lips feeling tight as I stretched them back out. I kept the smile pinned on my face as I nodded and slid from the bed.

            “Honey?” Her voice was laced with concern at my sudden shift. “What’s wrong?”

            And for a moment, I thought about telling her, thought about screaming until my throat was so raw I couldn’t push any more words out. Maybe if I was loud enough, she would see me, but as I looked at her, I saw the spark of hope those articles had stirred, and I knew it wouldn’t matter how loud I was, as long as that hope was there, my future for her looked the same.

            “I’m okay…just a headache.” She scrunched her eyebrows together, clearly not believing me, but I turned away ending the conversation that was building up in her eyes. “Really, mom, I’m fine. I’m just going to go back to my room and finish the article.”

            “Okay. I’ll send you the others too.” Her words stung, searing through my shirt and raking down my back as I left the room, pulling the door closed behind me. My skin stung all the way back to my room. It burned as I pressed my body back into my bed, pulling the covers up and over my head. It ached as I stared at the article, mindlessly scrolling through the words—my eyes glazing over as I fought to keep the tears at bay. And even though I was tucked beneath the thick duvet, my breath heating the enclosed space I’d created, I felt raw—like my soul had been cleaved open—left exposed and unable to fight back against the world as it continued to take all that was left.   

            I reached the end of the article, and my breath caught as one of the related articles pushed back against my thoughts: “Letting Go with Grace: How to Embrace New Beginnings and Move on with Confidence.” I tapped on the link, and as I began to read the article, the tears spilled over.

            That article bled into another and that one into another, and before I knew it, I was ten articles deep in self-affirmations, action plans, and how-to guides. And two days after that, I had an appointment to view a house that had just become available in a small cul-de-sac across town. I was on my own, but then again, when had I not been?

            The water ran cold, and the sudden sting of it brought me out of my thoughts. I rushed to finish my hair and body, muttering the rest of my affirmations as I slathered soap into my hair and across my skin—contorting my body to keep contact with the crystallizing water to a minimum.

            My final whispered words still felt hollow—each one rinsed away by the water before being pushed down the drain—sucked away before they had the chance to penetrate my mind. With a sigh, I reached out to turn off the water.  

            The air was cold as I stepped out of the tub, placing my feet on the bright orange bathmat. I’d hoped that spending the last few minutes in cold water would make getting out a touch more comfortable than it usually was, but the air still bit at my skin as I reached for a towel to wrap around my body—letting the fabric chase away the goosebumps that prickled my skin.

            My phone pinged, and I shuffled my way from the bathroom to my bed, collapsing into the blankets. Tiny streams of water weaved their way down my back—pooling against the top of the towel. I pulled my phone from the nightstand and scrolled through my notifications. Three emails, two texts, and four notifications from other various apps. I cleared off the notifications, making a mental note to go through my phone and delete the apps I no longer used, before opening my email.

            Both emails were from the student portal app reminding me of upcoming application deadlines and which student profiles needed my attention. I flagged them both as important to ensure I’d see them first thing Monday morning and then clicked back to my home screen. The bubble hovering over my message center caused a pit to form at the bottom of my stomach.

            Was it Jenna…again? I’d left her on read last night, having no desire to respond to her prying, and completely inappropriate, questions. It could be Henry—my eyes clung to the red bubble. I’d kind of ended things quickly after agreeing to lunch with Kyle and Uncle Geroge. I couldn’t shake the feeling of betrayal that crept up my spine as I texted Henry. I’d managed two more replies and then announced an early bedtime, like the loser I was, before switching my phone to ‘sleep mode,’ and returning my gaze to the ceiling.

            I tapped on the app, and the screen blinked as it shifted to my message center. One of the messages was from Henry, which caused my heart to flutter in excitement. I shifted my eyes lower and saw the other was from Kyle, and my heart plummeted. My finger shifted to Henry’s message, but hesitated, the pull from Kyle’s causing it to hover in place.

            “It’s like Sophie’s choice.” I groaned before blowing out a harsh laugh. “Yeah, if Sophie was a delusional twenty-something year old woman creating non-existent relationships between two men who weren’t even interested.” I glared down at my phone. “I mean, that’s pretty much the same thing as being forced to choose which of your children goes to the gas chamber.” I rolled my eyes, before closing them like I was five years old and had just been told to pick a card. I moved my finger back and forth, squeezing my eyes tighter as I pressed the screen. I opened my eyes a crack and let out a laugh as Jenna’s number stared back at me. “Here’s your sign.” I said pitching my voice to sound like Bill Engvall as I dragged myself off the bed, before swiping out of the app altogether. The red notification bubble destined to hover a little longer.

            I clicked into my music app and scrolled to my favorite playlist, letting the music surround me as I worked my way through my closet searching for something to wear. After pulling out four different options and spreading them across my bed, I moved into my bathroom to focus on my hair. It’s just Kyle and Uncle George. I reminded myself as I pulled my blow dryer out of the bottom drawer and plugged it into the wall. Wear jeans. Hell, wear sweats. I kicked the heat to high and started combing my fingers through the wet strands.

            My body shifted into autopilot, and before I knew it, I was standing in front of my mirror still wrapped in a towel as my hair stuck out in hideous angles around my face. I worked to smother it—to push it back down until it was contained. Just throw it in a ponytail. I reached for my hair ties but paused as I saw my curling iron. I’ll just do a few curls. It’s just to give it some shape. Four face framing curls turned into eight which turned into a full styling. I switched the curling iron off, reaching for my mascara. I would just apply a little to my eyes and then throw on some sweats and be done. Exactly. Balance. No biggy. It’s just Kyle.

            An hour later and I was standing on Kyle’s porch, my hair curled, mascara framing in my eyes, blush running up my cheeks, and my hands constantly at the hem of my skirt—tugging at the edges desperately trying to cover more of my exposed skin. What had I been thinking? A skirt? I glanced down at my watch. I was fifteen minutes early. I could go home, change, and come back. I’d probably end up being ten minutes late, but late had to be better than showing up on my ex-fiancé dad’s doorstep looking like I was ready for a date.

            I slid my foot back, pulling further away from the door, but the sound of Kyle’s voice caused my plan to shrivel.

            “Dad don’t worry. I’ll run to the store.” There was noise further back in the house, but I couldn’t make it out. “Chill out. It’s just Evie.” A small laugh. “She’s not even going to be here for another fifteen minutes.” The doorknob turned, and I willed every brain cell I had to start working on the ability to become invisible or to instantaneously combust—I honestly wasn’t feeling picky at the moment.

            But because I’d obviously murdered someone in a past life, I was still very much standing in the exact same spot wearing the exact same clothes as Kyle swung the door fully open and turned to face me.

            “Oh!” His voice was higher than usual, clearly surprised to find me standing here like the idiot that I was, but before he said anything else, he quickly shut the door behind him. His eyes travelled up my body, causing heat to pool in unfamiliar places. What the hell is wrong with me?! This is Kyle. “You look…good.” He seemed to choke on the final word, and any heat I’d felt was drenched by my sudden embarrassment.

            “Oh, this old thing.” I managed between a forced laugh and another tug at my skirt.

            “Did you rehearse that line?” He said, his right eyebrow rising just slightly. Yep. Instantaneous combustion was a definite must on the skill chart.

            “No. I…well…I just have something after this is all.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

            “Oh,” his eyes shifted down my body again. He needed to stop doing that. What was his goal anyway? To set every nerve in my body on edge? Congratulations, dude, you win. “Well, that explains it.” He brushed past me and headed to his car.

            “Explains what?” I asked hurrying to follow him.

            He glanced back over his shoulder. “All of that.” He gestured at my hair and outfit before turning back to his car. “Must be a hot date.” He yanked on the handle of the driver’s side door. “My guess is Henry.” He hooked his arms over the top of the door and rested his chin on them as he looked at me.

            “Henry?” My voice cracked as my skin flushed—a ripple of betrayal shooting up my spine. “No.”

            “No?”

            “No.” I said more firmly.

            “Then who is it?”

            I tapped on my chin. “Hmmm…I think his first name was None-ya, last name Business.”

            “Fair enough.” He sighed and looked past me at the door. “Listen, Dad is pretty excited about today.” He lifted off the car and pulled his hand through his hair, clearly wanting to say something else.

            “Oooookay?” I said, raising my eyebrow to mirror the look he’d given me earlier.

            “Never mind.” He shook his head and then gestured at the passenger seat. “Get in.

            “Why? I’ll just go in and help your dad.” I gestured back towards the house.

            “Sure, if you want to break his heart.”

            “What?”

            “I can’t tell you. It’s a big surprise.” His mouth pulled into a straight line.

            “A surprise?”

            “I told you; he’s excited about today. I guess he hasn’t seen you in a while.” Kyle shrugged and slid into the car, pulling the door closed.

            Pain flared in my chest. How long had it been since I’d been over? I’d been over since Kyle left. Right? I must have. My brain felt like scrambled eggs as I tried to remember the last time I’d seen Uncle George. I dug, scraping the edges of my mind, certain that I’d find something—some moment when I’d come and checked on him, texted him, or called. Every second that passed sent an ache through my bones. Way to go, Evie.

            I made my way to the passenger side of the car, opening the door just enough to slip inside. Kyle started up the engine and backed out of the driveway. The radio was on, but it felt like noise, the words incapable of reaching me as I kept looking for something that would make the ache in my chest subside.

            If Aunt Julia was a shadow that loomed in my memories, Uncle George was a beam of sunshine, managing to slip through the clouds—the warmth from it chasing away the cold. He always knew what to do and was pretty much the only person who could calm down Aunt Julia when something didn’t go according to her plan. She would shriek—her hair two seconds from bursting into snakes, and Uncle George would just wrap his arms around her, kiss her on the forehead, and whisper something in her ear.

            Kyle and I always wondered what the secret whisper was—what code did he have that we didn’t. When we were twelve, we’d finally built up the courage to ask him. It was the Fourth of July, and all the fireworks exploded in one big boom when a stray firework from the neighbors’ house had landed in our pile. It would have been the scariest five minutes of the day had it not had to contend with Aunt Julia’s anger.

            I remember screaming and running—diving under anything to find cover from the explosions, and when the noise finally settled, I’d peaked out from my hiding spot. The fireworks had destroyed everything—the decorations, the tables of food, one had even hit the radio causing it to burst into flames. I watched as Aunt Julia climbed out from under the porch, her eyes wide as she looked around the yard.

            I braced myself for the war—the moment when she would become a force of nature, all-consuming and powerful as she flew around the yard. I watched as her chest started to rise and fall faster, my anxiety creeping up with every breath she took. Kyle had come up behind me and crouched down low, shuffling into me until we were both crammed in the tight space.

            “This is about to be bad.” He whispered in my ear, and I nodded. We hunkered lower, bracing for the storm. And then, Uncle Geroge had come running around the house. He’d been down the road—apparently, Aunt Julia had sent him to town to grab something she’d forgotten. His legs blurred as he moved across the yard towards her—leaping over the debris and moving around the scattered tables, never once taking his eyes off her. The second he reached her, she was in his arms, and I remember watching as her shoulders started to shake. Was she crying? I looked up at Kyle, and his eyes were wide. We watched, captivated by what was happening.

            After a few moments, Uncle George leaned in and kissed her forehead and then dropped his mouth to her ear. I watched as her shoulders sagged, and she nodded against his chest. He squeezed her once more, and then stepped away, announcing that we would all drive down to the local pool and watch the community fireworks. His words light, like a bomb hadn’t just gone off, as they drifted around the yard. Uncle George started to move back across the yard, picking up the big items as he went. Aunt Julia went inside, my mom close on her heels, and as soon as the door closed, Kyle and I scooted out from our hiding spot, the movement drawing Uncle Geroge’s attention.

            “Hey, you,” he said smiling as he took in our disheveled clothes. “You both better go change if you plan on swimming before the fireworks.”

            “How’d you do that?” I blurted out. I felt Kyle’s hand wrap around mine as he came up to stand beside me.

            “Do what? Jump great lengths and move with incredible speed?” His chest puffed out a little, as he brought his hands to his hips in his best Superman pose.

            “No.” I giggled and rolled my eyes. “You weren’t that fast, Uncle George.”

            “Ouch that hurts, Evie.” His chest deflated as he held his heart, feigning like he’d been shot.

            “No, dad.” Kyle’s voice was quiet. “How’d you get her to not freak out?”

            “Who? Your mom?” He seemed genuinely confused.

            “Yeah.” We both said in unison.

            “Oh, that.” He ran his hand across the back of his neck. “It’s just love.” He wiggled his eyebrows at us.

            “Um, ew,” I said.

            “Yeah, dad, gross,” Kyle said as he stuck his tongue out. “And we weren’t talking about that. We want to know what you said.”

            I nodded my head, shaking it so fast that more hair from my ponytail fell down around my face. “Yeah, like what’s the password.”

            “Password?” Uncle George scrunched his eyebrows together.

            “Yeah, the password to control mom.”

            Uncle George laughed—his chest shaking as the sound poured from him. Kyle and I stood there watching him, waiting for him to come to his senses.

            “Uncle George,” I placed my hands on my hips, “it’s not funny. We want to know.”

            He wiped at his eyes and took a deep breath, dropping his eyes to meet ours. “There’s no secret password.” He chuckled again. “Your mom is not a robot.”

            Kyle muttered something under his breath, but I was too focused on Uncle Geroge’s words to hear what it was.

            “Listen, kids.” He walked forward placing his hands on our shoulders. “It’s not really something I can tell you, but trust me, one day it’ll make sense.”  

            Then he’d walked away, moving towards my dad who was on the other side of the yard, picking up trash and turning over tables. Kyle and I had stared at each other for a few moments, trying to figure out what he’d meant, but then our moms had called from the house, and the moment was over.

            “Geez, you’re not going to have any brain cells left if you think any harder.” Kyle’s voice drug me from my memories as he pulled into the grocery store parking lot.

            “Oh, right, sorry,” I said growing awkward at how long I’d gone without speaking.

            Kyle just shrugged again, the movement causing my jaw to tick. “What’s your deal?” I snapped.

            He pushed the gear shift to park. “Nothing. What’s yours?” He twisted in the seat, so he was facing me.

            “I don’t have one, but clearly you do,” I said, drawing my shoulders all the way to my ears before releasing them with a pointed look.

            “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

            “It means that if you shrug your shoulders at me one more time,” I gestured to his arms, “instead of just saying whatever it is you’re biting back, I might slap you.”

            “Trust me; it’s better I don’t.” His words were clipped, and he shifted to open the door.

            I’m not quite sure what happened, but a loud thwack rang out as my hand made contact with his shoulder.

            “Did you just hit me?”

            “I literally just told you I would.”

            He sighed and ran a hand down his face. “Drop it, Evie.” His jaw flexed “Please.”

            What was his freaking deal? HE invited ME over. “Fine.” I said as I spun back in the seat and crossed my arms.

            “Fine.” He pushed the door open and muttered something about only being a minute before shutting it behind him.

            My hands balled into fists as my mind raged. He had some nerve. He’d ask me to come today, not the other way around. I’d showed up, early even, and all he’d done was give me attitude. Well, it was his problem, not mine. I was a grown woman fully capable of being a mature adult—if he wanted to act like a child and shrug his shoulders every three seconds and pout, then that was on him.

            My eyes fell to where my arms were still folded tight across my chest. I pushed air out of my nose and pulled my arms apart, letting my hands rest in my lap. I am not pouting because I’m not mad. I nodded my head firmly at the thought, before leaning forward to turn up the radio.

            Two lyrics into what I was fairly sure was a Dean Lewis song, Kyle returned with a small bag of groceries. He tossed them into the back seat before returning to the front. He pulled his seat belt across his chest, shifted the car into drive, and then made his way to the main road. The song kept going—the words filling the space between us. I made sure to keep my hands in my lap, but my eyes kept drifting to Kyle’s side of the car. His back was tense, and his knuckles were practically turning white as he gripped the steering wheel. Keep your mouth shut. You don’t care. I rolled my shoulders back. He can be mad all he wants. That’s his problem. I glanced back over at him and exploded as the line in his jaw ticked again.

            “Just freaking spit it out.” My voice was loud, causing Kyle to jump a little in his seat.

            “Evie.” He sighed like I was the one causing an issue.

            I spun in my seat to face him. “No, you can’t sit there with steam practically shooting out of your ears and expect me to ignore it.”

            “We can talk about it later,” he said, flipping the turn signal on as we approached his neighborhood.

            “Before or after you go inside and act like a child in front of your dad.” I muttered under my breath.

            “Now who needs to spit it out?” He said as he pulled into the driveway and slammed the gearshift up.

            “You know what.” I threw the door open. “I’ll just go home. I don’t have time for this.” I gestured between us. “Just tell Uncle George I got sick or something. I’ll come by next week.” I made to scoot out of the seat.

            “Sure you will.”

            I whipped back towards him so fast my hair spun out around me. “What did you say?”

            He sucked in a breath and closed his eyes. “Nothing. Just go. I’ll tell him.”

            I pulled the door shut behind me. “Oh, no. We’re past that. What did you say?”

            “Just go.”

            “What. Did. You. Say.” I pushed the words out, my blood beginning to simmer under my skin.

            “Fine. You want to do this, then fine.” He spun in his seat. “I said, sure you will.”

            “And what the hell does that mean?”

            “It means, Evie,” he drew my name out, “that my dad said he’s not seen you in like six months. Would you care to explain why?”

            You’ve got to be kidding me. “And when’s the last time you’ve seen him?” I spat back at him. “Last time I checked, you haven’t been sneaking back to town in the middle of the night.”

            “I call him every day.”

            “And? He’s YOUR dad!”

            “He’s YOUR family too!” His words felt like he’d slapped me across the face. The sting causing the fight in me to sputter out, but Kyle didn’t notice. “You grew up in this house just like I grew up in yours, and you couldn’t be bothered to come check on him?” He slammed his hands into the steering wheel. “Your life has been so busy that the fifteen-minute drive was just too much?” Every word hurt—ripping into my chest as he carved deeper, but I kept my mouth closed. He was right. “Then you finally show up. Finally have time to come see him, and you’ve made other plans.” He scoffed. “You’re ridiculous.”

            “Wait, what?”

            He looked over at me, his eyes running down my body again. “I hope whoever he is, it’s worth it.” He swung his door open.

            “Kyle, I…” I reached out and grabbed his arm, stopping his movement.

            “You what? You don’t have plans? You’re not meeting up with some guy when my dad needs you?”

            I froze at the anger that was still pouring out of him, my mind reeling as it tried to sort through the words he was throwing at me.

            “That’s what I thought.” He moved out of the car, reaching behind his seat to grab the bag. I scrambled out of my side of the car, spinning to look across the hood at him. “Can you…” He drug his hand over his face. “Can you just wait like five minutes before you knock?” His voice was softer now, some of the anger gone. “Dad really is excited, and, well,” his eyes shot to the front door, “just wait, please.” He turned away from me.

            “Kyle.” I moved around the car towards him, but he kept walking. I hurried my pace trying to close some of the distance. “Kyle, wait.”

            He shook his head. “Evie, please, just let it go.”

            “I don’t have plans.” The truth tumbled out of me, desperate to get him to stop.

            “What?” He turned to face me, his eyes shining like he was fighting back tears.

            I coughed and pulled up to a stop in front of him. “I, um, I don’t have any plans.”

            “But, earlier, you said…”

            “Yeah, well, I know I’m a little overdressed.” My eyes shifted away from his face as my hands moved to my skirt, tugging at the hem, trying to stretch the fabric out. “And then the comments and the looks.”

            “What looks?”

            I shifted my gaze to meet his, suddenly finding it hard to swallow. “Nothing. I just, well I got nervous and panicked, so I said I had plans.” I sighed, a wave of embarrassment creeping up the back of my neck. “And, well, I don’t. Okay? I don’t have plans.” Heat singed my face as my cheeks practically burst into flames.

            “Oh.” He shifted his weight between his feet, as silence stretched between us. “I guess I’m sorry about all that,” he said, gesturing at the car.

            “No. Don’t be.” I sighed. “You were right.” I paused as I let the weight of those words settle. “Well about some of it, anyway.”

            After another moment, Kyle nodded and tightened his grip on the sack in his hands. “I better get this inside to dad.”

            “Okay, I’ll wait five minutes, but not a second longer.” I looked around. “I do not want to get sucked into a conversation with Ms. Wilburn.”

            Kyle laughed. “Okay, deal.” He turned and headed towards the front door, making it to the steps before he hesitated. The sudden stop caused the muscles in my body to tense. He turned halfway around as he placed his foot on the first stair. “Thanks.”

            “For what?”

            “For still being you.” He turned, climbed the final few steps, and rushed inside, shouting something as the door closed behind him.

            My shoulders sagged, and I felt like my legs were going to collapse beneath me. “What the hell just happened?”