JUDAH #1

Judah had a panic attack on the bus on the way to her own thirtieth birthday party. Huddled behind the blue plastic seats, she answered her little brother’s phone call in the middle, between gasps, with whispers, I . . . think . . . I’m . . . dying, while he said, hello, hello? Judy?

She stared at the pattern of black goo encircling a rip in the seat next to her, wondering if she would be able to wait it out until her stop. A bland distraction could be good. What exactly was that goo made out of? She thought of oil-covered beaches in her childhood. The summer when there was just no point to living in Galveston because you couldn’t even go to the beach. On the other hand, maybe she could hit the emergency stop button and run out of the bus, her brother calling her name all the while. Ju! Dah! It was like being underwater when it’s so clear that you can’t judge distances. Is the surface just a couple feet? Ten? Twenty? Is there any way she can hold her breath long enough? She pressed the phone to her ear.

What’s wrong, Judah? Her brother asked, like an out-of-patience parent.

She sighed, I’m afraid that I’m never going to get off this bus.

Why? What happened to the bus?

Nothing, she said. And she started to sing a Sunday song in her head. Rock of ages, cleft for me; let me hide myself in thee.

You okay? Are you spazzing?

That was the day she would look back to and admit she had in fact retreated from her normal life.