JASON STARR - Panic Attack

Walking to the gym, he was proud of the way he’d handled himself. If there was a bright side to all of this, he was definitely overcoming his glossophobia. He thought he came off as confident and well- spoken, and the last bit was a perfect touch, not publicly blaming Gabriela, showing people that, despite everything, he was compassionate and forgiving. Okay, so maybe he was letting his ego take over and he was enjoying the attention a bit more than he ought to, but was there really anything so wrong with this?

As he walked along Austin Street in the main commercial area of Forest Hills, he couldn’t help looking around to see if anyone was recognizing him. No one seemed to be, but he expected people at the gym to come up to him. He didn’t know very many people there- most of the regulars were in their twenties and thirties- but they had seen him around and might have seen him on the TV news earlier and made the connection.

The girl at the front desk who scanned his membership card didn’t have any unusual reaction, and in the main part of the gym people were in their own worlds, watching TV, reading magazines or newspapers, listening to their iPods, or just focusing on their workouts.

After Adam did a half hour on an exercise bike, he headed toward the weight room. He passed Tony, one of the trainers. Tony was a nice guy, always talking to Adam about the Knicks, the Mets, and the Jets. He thought Tony might say something to him about the shooting, but he didn’t, and he wasn’t particularly friendly either. He glanced at Adam, then looked away and kept walking. That was weird. Eh, maybe he was just in a bad mood.

Adam finished his workout, breaking a nice sweat. He’d only lasted sixteen minutes on the treadmill, but maybe he could get up to twenty or twenty- five next time. He was looking forward to showering at home and making a few calls for work, and then maybe he and Dana could watch a movie together. He felt bad about fighting with her before, especially about the way he’d ended the argument, just walking out on her like that. He felt like he’d been manipulative. He knew how much his being dismissive bothered her, and it was wrong of him to try to push her buttons that way.

But then, when he arrived back at the house, he found a note:

Went to Sharon’s. Be back later. D The way she’d signed it “D” and not “Love, D” or even “XO D,” the way she normally would’ve, showed she was seriously upset, which annoyed Adam.

He could understand why Dana would be angry at him, but it seemed like she was taking it too far, going out and leaving a curt, nasty note. After all, had he done something so awful? He’d walked out on her in the middle of an argument and, oh yeah, he didn’t want to get rid of his gun- the gun that she had agreed to let him keep in the house, the gun that had saved their lives last night. He didn’t see why any of that warranted this kind of reaction, and, come to think of it, he didn’t like what she’d said to him before, how he was ruining their lives. What was that supposed to mean, anyway? Up until today he’d thought things had been pretty good between them lately. Okay, they needed to start spending more time together- what couple didn’t?- but they’d been expressing their anger well and hadn’t been arguing as much as they used to. But now, just because something horrible had happened to them last night, because they’d been through a tragedy, she was making him out to be this horrible person, this tormentor who was ruining her life?

The more Adam thought about it, the more upset he got. And to think, he’d actually been considering coming home and apologizing to her. He was the one who deserved the apology, damn it. He’d been traumatized, and all he got from her was what, blame? Where was the support? Where was the love? How come he hadn’t heard, “Don’t worry, honey, everything’s going to be okay?” Or even a little hug would’ve been nice. He knew this was just another example of how Dana twisted things whenever they had a disagreement, making him feel like everything was his fault when in actuality he’d done nothing wrong.

He crumpled up Dana’s note and threw it toward the wastebasket near the front door. It didn’t go in, but he didn’t bother to pick it up.

He took a quick shower, then saw he’d gotten a call from Jen, a thirty- fouryear- old patient with a history of clinical depression who was in an emotionally abusive relationship. He’d also gotten a text from her: please call me back doctor. Adam returned the call immediately, and Jen was extremely upset- sobbing, barely able to speak. She eventually explained that her boyfriend, Victor, had walked out on her for good. Adam talked to her for a long time, mainly listening to her and giving her a chance to express her feelings but also calmly pointing out the advantages of the relationship ending and reminding her how unhappy she’d been with Victor. Meanwhile, he was really probing for signs of a deeper depression. She’d once tried to kill herself in college, and he was particularly looking for signs that she was suicidal, such as extreme self- loathing, worthlessness, and hopelessness. But he decided that she was in the midst of an acute reactive depression and didn’t pose any immediate danger to herself. By the end of the conversation, she sounded much calmer and in control of her emotions, and she promised she’d call him first thing in the morning to let him know how she was doing.

Helping people get through difficult times in their lives always lifted Adam’s mood and reminded him of his real purpose in life. What was the famous Jackie Robinson quote? The only meaning your life has is the effect it has on other lives? Something like that. Anyway, Adam was looking forward to getting back into the swing of things at work, resuming his normal life. He sat down with his laptop for a while and answered his e-mail; most of it was work related, though a couple of friends had heard about the robbery and shooting and wanted to offer support and make sure everything was okay.

At around four, the guy from the security company arrived and programmed a new code, and Adam made him check and double- check to make sure the system was working properly.

“Don’t worry, sir,” the guy said. “As long as the system’s armed, nobody’s getting into this house.”

Adam wasn’t concerned. They had the alarm system and the new Medeco locks on the back door, and of course he still had his gun. He felt they’d be very well protected if, in the off- chance, someone- perhaps Sanchez’s accomplice- decided to rob the house again, though he doubted that would happen. There was just no way that a burglar, no matter how stupid or angry he was, would try to rob a house where a shooting had taken place, a house that had been crawling with cops and reporters. Why not rob another house in the neighborhood, or in a completely different neighborhood, someplace totally off the radar? Besides, there was still a chance that Gabriela’s murder had nothing to do with the robbery. Maybe Gabriela herself had been the second intruder last night and then had been killed in some random robbery attempt. Although Adam couldn’t imagine any logical scenario where he or his family could be in danger, he was glad he would be prepared for the worst nevertheless.

He microwaved leftover chicken and string beans and was eating at the kitchen table while rereading the sports section of the Times when he got a call on his BlackBerry with the ID fox broadcasting. He figured it was another reporter with a follow- up question, but it turned out it was Karen Owens, a producer from Good Day New York. She asked Adam if he would like to appear as a guest tomorrow morning.

“You’re kidding,” Adam said. “Why do you want me?”

“Why do you think?” she said. “You’re a big local news story, Dr. Bloom.”