Page 104 of Poison Wood

Sunday, February 17, 2019

10:57 a.m. CST

I wait on the sidewalk outside the Kingston as Erin, Carl, and I are about to go live for NCN’s eleven o’clock show. The rain has stopped, and the wind is warm enough now to make me wish I’d worn a short-sleeve shirt under the blazer Erin let me borrow. I haven’t been in front of the camera since Miami and doing it now without my makeup and wardrobe has me chewing my fingernails.

Erin is still in her sensible khakis with downtown Riverbend as her backdrop. She looks professional and poised, but the giddiness in her eyes at being the first to report the findings is unmistakable.

The first time I had a scoop, I felt it too. It was in Dallas, and I’d lucked out and gotten a source in the police department who gave me the address where a suspect was hiding inside another person’s home. I’d been the first on the scene, and it was the story that got NCN’s attention.

Now, watching Erin have her moment, I don’t feel the adrenaline I usually feel when I see Carl set up the camera. But I do feel something, and it’s not good.

“Almost ready,” Carl says.

I feel like I’m having a hard time taking a full breath. I thought being outside would help, but it’s only getting worse as I try to dissect the avalanche of information I’ve received in the past week, everything from Poison Wood to my mother.

“Ready,” Carl yells.

Erin nods at me but I take a step away from her. “Rita?”

“Gotta go,” Carl says.

Erin pulls her gaze from me and squares her shoulders to the camera. Carl points to her as I take another step out of the shot.

“Good morning,” Erin says. “I’m here at ...”

I race down the street, suddenly feeling like an elephant is sitting on my chest. I rip off the blazer and try to take a deep breath, but I can’t. I walk a few steps, but my legs feel weak. I fan my face with my hand and grab my phone with the other and type out a text to Willa.

I think I’m having a heart attack.

My phone rings seconds later.

“Are you driving?” Willa says.

“No.” I start pacing. “This is heart related. I know it. I was just about to go live and now I’m sweating, and I’m having trouble breathing.”

“Okay. Slow down. Let’s assess. Could this be a panic attack?”

“I don’t have—” I start to say, and she interrupts.

“Tell me four things you can see right now.”

I look around, balling my left hand into a fist so it won’t shake. “Um. A large dump truck. A bridge. The Red River and, um, a hotel.”

Willa clears her throat. “Are you in Louisiana?”

“Um.”

“Scratch that. We’ll deal with that later. Now tell me three things you can hear. Close your eyes.”

I close my eyes. “Carl and Erin talking. Air brakes releasing. A car stereo.” My breathing starts to slow.

“Tell me two things you can touch,” she says. “Touch them.”

I open my eyes and bend down. “The sidewalk,” I say, running my fingers over the concrete. “And an iron railing.” I touch my fingertips to the cool railing by the hotel. I’m no longer sweating.

“Last thing,” Willa says. “Tell me one thing you can taste or smell.”

Erin and Carl walk up to me.