Carbon: Devil's Rose #8

Chapter 25: Gabriella Jordan

After a full day of talking, eating, shopping, and more eating and more shopping, Roman and I are finally on our way to Napa. Having had a full day of not traveling makes the two-hour car trip fun. We scream out the lyrics to our favorite Fleetwood Mac songs, and I point out everything that I find pretty which happens about every thirty seconds. 

I can tell that we're heading into wine country because of the millions of grapes covering the rolling hills. As my chest constricts, and I become unable to comprehend the thoughts flying around in my head, I know that my anxiety is building. 

All I can think about is the worst possible scenarios for what's about to happen. I'm going to make a complete fool of myself.

What if I trip and fall on my face when I try to meet his family? What if I forget all of their names even though I've talked to them multiple times? What if I spill my drink on them? What if I say the wrong thing? Worst of all, what if they don't like me? 

We've met over the phone, but everyone is a different person on the phone. What if they meet me, hate me, and want Roman and me to break up? Where would we go from there? Would he have to decide between me and his family? 

I wouldn't want to put him in that situation, so I have to be on my best behavior. But if I'm drinking and partying at the wedding, maybe I won't be on my best behavior. I also can't hole myself up in our room to avoid them either because then they will definitely hate me.

They could destroy our relationship, and I can't even regulate my anxiety. Usually, I use the box method. It first started when I truly didn't know how to put my feelings of anxiety and disaster out in the universe or talk to someone to be vulnerable in any way. 

That was pretty much after my mom passed away, and I couldn't talk to my family about the issues I was having. This way of processing information and my emotions developed and has helped me through so many situations.

I have this imaginary room. It's my dream room. Books on two walls, a tv on another, warm lights are constantly streaming through the window (though it does rain sometimes), I have the comfiest bed with my favorite blankets, candles glow, and a soft record plays. 

I could go on about this forever, but the setting of the room isn't what is most important. It's what the room holds. There is a closet, and in that closet are rows and rows of shelves. On those shelves, there are boxes. 

Some empty, some full, some tattered, some perfectly pristine. Whenever I feel something so tremendously overwhelming, so powerful, I take a breath, think about that room, open that closet door, pick whatever box feels right, shove my feelings in that box, and close the top. 

Because I've been working on not hiding everything away and pushing it down, I leave just enough space for some air to get through the seal as if I know that one day I might have to open that box again. The first time I did this, it was the start of the most practical and devastating approach to feelings. 

Now, it's a coping mechanism that allows me to focus on what's important. However, with this big and life-altering moment, I'm too overwhelmed to concentrate on putting my feelings in a box. It's too much to handle by myself.

A wave of dread washes over me, and I clasp onto Roman's wrist in desperation. My knuckles turn white as I grip him. He glances over to see the panic in my eyes and pulls into a random vineyard without another thought. 

He places my hand on his chest, forcing me to breathe with him. Tears burn my eyes, but he tenderly brushes them away, soaking in all my fears and worries and nerves. He stares into my eyes deeply.