Trapped.

Boxed in and unable to move from whatever self-imposed prison I have let myself get stuck in.  I get a sudden pain in my chest, and my breath comes more shallow.  Fuck.  I am going to have a panic attack, right here.

It amuses me, even in my moment of sheer terror, that this embarrasses me more then words can say..

It’s happens, almost too sudden for words – I find myself laughing, a full out belly laugh that drowns out the mechanical drone of the waiting room.

Laughing so hard that I am crying.

Bent over, tears running down my face I look at my best friend, my sister in every way that counts and she is looking to me like I have lost my mind.

“Sugah,”  I drawl, reminding her of our years at school, where out of no where I would pretend to be my southern Grandmother, who would call us all Sugah.  “We need to get us some of that there beef before we can have a barbecue.”  The second I mention it, despite my stupidity, I want to have a barbecue… but Helena is too far gone herself to be able to coherently discuss this with.

“Love, you needn’t bother with that trash, Grandmama knows the Queen.  We will dine at the Palace.”  Helena states in a clear, upperclass British accent.

We fall into each other, laughing heartedly.  This routine, which I am sure is mundane to anyone watching us, used to land us in trouble at school all the time.  According to our school psychologist we were playing out the roles that society expected us to fit into, and we should try and break free of that mould.

Little did she know that we both really found her hot, and her lectures were a distant second to her remarkable cleveage.  We were pubescent and exploring our sexuality.  That was our rationale for it.

“Ms Porter,”  The nurse enunciated, clipping each word short.  Making the doctor wait because of an inappropriate and incomprehensible moment of laughter is bad; a doctor making a patient wait because of a toilet break and chatting up the nurses – totally acceptable.

Pulling myself up, I engulf Helena into a bear hug “Love you Hells.”

Hugging me back, she kisses me on the cheek “It’ll be fine.  No matter what, everything will be okay.”  Dragging herself to full height, Helena straightens her Ramones shirt before reaching for my hand.

“Shall we Ms Porter.”  She asked with a flourish, like she was asking me to dance.

“We Shall.”  Ignoring her hand, I slip my arms around hers, bodily linking us together.