Unexpectedly, Milo - Matthew Dicks [48]
Similar to how he reacted when one of his demands went unsatisfied for a long period of time.
Layered on top of Christine’s symptoms was fear. Not the claustrophobic fear that was the cause of the problem, but an added layer of fear of what others might think of her if she experienced an actual panic attack in public, which had happened on several occasions over the course of her life. As difficult as it was for Milo to understand, it seemed as if Christine worried more about the spectacle that she might create as a result of her panic attack rather than the cause of the panic attack itself. During the actual attack, this fear of embarrassment dissipated, dominated by actual claustrophobic fear, but prior to its onset and almost immediately afterward, the concern for her public image consumed her and probably made it exponentially more difficult to regain control. Despite the frequency of Milo’s assurances that her claustrophobia was not her fault, Christine would not listen, convinced her embarrassment and shame were justified.
Though Milo recognized the similarity between her condition and his own, as well as their similar feelings of shame and embarrassment, he also thought that the two conditions were entirely incongruous. Christine’s claustrophobia was a condition that people understood and accepted, akin to a fear of heights or public speaking. It did not result in the need to pop the pressure seal on a jelly jar or a similarly bizarre behavior; therefore the embarrassment that his wife felt was, in his mind, unwarranted and silly. Just like an epileptic has no reason to feel embarrassed about a seizure, a claustrophobic has no need to feel the same about an anxiety attack.
Milo’s condition, on the other hand, was not the kind that anyone would ever understand or accept. Therefore, his concern over keeping it hidden was legitimate.
Additionally, Christine’s admitted embarrassment over her condition had served to reinforce Milo’s need to keep the U-boat captain and his demands a secret from his wife. If she found a panic attack to be the greatest source of shame in her life, how would she feel if Milo described his need to smash a Weeble in a doorjamb, or his fixation on ice cubes as the two were having sex the day before? On those rare days when Milo began to wonder if telling Christine the truth about his life might bring them closer together, he thought about the shame that his wife felt over a legitimate psychological condition, and quickly decided otherwise.
Better to enjoy a tenuous, less than genuine relationship than none at all.
As the couple made their way back to their hotel on the Upper West Side later that afternoon, American flags had already begun to appear, hanging from the windows of apartment buildings. Cars and trucks covered in a thick gray dust could occasionally be seen moving through the streets, joining what little traffic there was.
Milo had been in the city many times in his life and had never heard such silence.
Though the buses were running and transporting New Yorkers free of charge that day, Milo and Christine walked the three dozen blocks back to their hotel. The streets weren’t entirely empty, but a hush had fallen over them.
It took them two days to get out of the city, and in that time Milo had seen the reaction of New Yorkers to the attacks evolve and had become consumed with the same blend of sorrow and anger and disbelief and patriotism that had filled so many American hearts. Milo loved Springsteen’s album The Rising, particularly its signature song, for all the truth and hope that it possessed. He had teared up the first time he heard it, playing over the radio in his car on his way to work, and to hear it playing now, less than a decade after the towers had fallen, serving as a background tune to help pass the time while customers debated a cereal choice or waited for a deli order, made him want to find the office from where this song was being broadcast and stop the irreverence immediately. It seemed as