Breathe (4 page)

“It’s okay, Mama.” I’d scrambled to my knees and attempted to clean the mess, pushing shards of glass and crumbled cake into a haphazard pile. Becca knelt down to help me. A broken piece of china snagged my finger and drew blood. I slipped it into my mouth as Maggie yanked me to my feet by the collar of my shirt.

“Damn right, it’s okay.” She was still glaring at my uncle as she pulled me along with her toward the exit. “She’s my kid Jim, not yours,” she’d screamed and pointed an accusing finger in his direction. “It’s not like I asked to be saddled with this.”

Later, at home, Maggie had baked me a lopsided cake that she set before me on the table and made me frost myself. She’d called it a game. Assured me it would be fun. What she really wanted was to distract me from the scene unfolding in the living room. The kitchen and living room were separated only by a half-wall with a countertop. From where I sat, I could see everything—the hairy, greasy man pawing at my mother. And when they retired to her bedroom, closing the door behind them, I was left to eat my cake alone.

The next morning when I’d left my bedroom, I ran into him again in the kitchen. His back was to me, the coffee carafe in one of his hands and a mug in the other. A large mountain lion tattoo crawled down his shoulder toward the edge of his boxers. He jumped a little when he turned, startled by my presence. “Jesus,” he swore, dropping the carafe to the floor and sending scalding liquid over my feet and up my legs. Tears stung my eyes and a wail escaped my throat.

The man just stood there tugging at his hair and swearing under his breath.  By the time Maggie emerged from the bedroom wearing only her underwear and a lace camisole, my crying had intensified. Her friend paced the room while she toweled off my legs. “I’m gonna go get some medicine, okay sugarplum?” she told me. Her voice was low and sweet, a tone she saved for those rare moments when she tried to care.

After she left, I continued to cry. The skin on my legs, I could see, was red and swollen. “Stop it,” the man shouted at me. “Dear God just stop it already.” He’d turned away and continued to scream in the direction of the bathroom. “Make her stop.” But I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. I was hurt and I was just young enough to think the whole world needed to know it.

His eyes flashed back in my direction. “Shut up,” he ordered through gritted teeth.

My screams filled the air between us until the back of his hand landed against my cheekbone. It was enough to silence me and to stop Maggie in her tracks. She stood halfway between the kitchen and the bathroom. In one hand, she held the antibiotic ointment and gauze pads. With the other, she pointed at the front door. “Get out,” she demanded without raising her voice. It was Maggie’s calm anger that scared me the most. Like a brewing storm or the eye of a hurricane, I always knew the worst was yet to come.

“Maggie, baby,” he pleaded. “Come on. I just wanted her to stop…”

“I said get out,” she repeated, louder this time.

The man searched her steely resolve and finding no cracks through which he could weasel his way back in, he threw his hands in the air. “Fine,” he growled and looked pointedly at me. “I didn’t sign up for this shit anyway.”

Maggie entered the kitchen ignoring the slamming of the door as her guest left, my pain and my injury now the last thing on her mind. She pushed me to my knees and from the table grabbed the towel she’d used to clean my legs. “You’re too old to be crying like a baby for no good reason,” she’d told me. “I don’t want to hear it again. Do you understand?” I nodded and she threw the towel to the floor beside me. “Clean up that mess,” she ordered.

“Mama, I’m sorry,” I’d whispered.

There had been no forgiveness in her voice when she spoke next. Just cold, hard, unyielding steel. “You ruin everything,” she told me. That was the first time one of Maggie’s boyfriends hit me and the last time I’d ever cried about it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I left the bathroom and looked down the hallway toward the living room. “Anyone home?” I called even though I knew Maggie would be at the bar, her wrists wrapped in gauze, waiting for someone to tell her how sorry they were about Tom’s death.

I waited a few breaths, waited for my heart to beat slower, and then headed for my bedroom. The outfit I wore that night hid in the farthest recesses of my closet, stuffed in a plastic bag beneath a pile of outdated winter clothes. Getting rid of it wouldn’t be easy, but I had an idea of how to do it.

Chapter Three

Garrett

Every so often, Abby would accuse me of not noticing that she was a girl. Like the time I planned a paintball outing for her sixteenth birthday. Or when I pushed her too hard during our morning run. Clearly, she was out of her mind. Abby loved paintball. I still wasn’t sure why that birthday hadn’t gone over so well.

And, to be honest, I was all too aware of the fact that she was a girl from the first day we met. I mean, potentially mortifyingly aware.

Parked outside her apartment, I waited in my pickup. Night had fallen and the rain had come and gone. A cool breeze blew in from the river through the open windows and as she approached—her steps as sure and quick against the concrete as her strokes in the water—I made note of her appearance. Low-rise jeans. A tight, tiny blue-green top covered with a plain white hoodie zipped halfway so her cleavage was still visible. Yes, Abby was very much a girl. Even if she tried to hide it.

Friday nights in Little Bend never changed. In the fall and winter, there was football. And in the spring and summer or when the weather was still warm, like tonight, there was drinking down by the river.

She climbed in beside me and I offered a small smile. “You got enough layers on there?” I asked and color rose to her cheeks. She lowered her green eyes, looked at her outfit, and gave a slight shrug. “It’s seventy degrees outside, Ab.”

“It’s October. I’m cold.”

She was lying. I could tell by the way she avoided my eyes and stared at her hands. But I didn’t push. With Abby, it was best never to push. That’s why we hadn’t talked about what happened the other night. I wanted to, but Abby didn’t bring it up and I never pushed.

I just shook my head, grinned again, and steered my pickup onto the street. I stole quick glances at her as I drove, wondering what she saw when she looked at me now. Did she see me the same way she did when we first met? Or even the way she did before Tom Ford? To look at her you’d think nothing had happened. Nothing had changed.

“Where’s Zoe?” she asked while we waited for a red light to turn green.

“I think she got a ride with Shannon.” It was the truth. No need to elaborate. That would be pushing. The light turned green, I pressed on the accelerator, and we were moving again. “You sure you wanna do this?” I asked.

“Normal, remember?”

Normal. Yes. That was the only thing we’d discussed. The one thing we’d agreed on. She’d made me swear to it down by the river.

“Promise me,” she’d pleaded.

“Abby…” I’d tried to argue, but one look into her enormous green eyes and I went mute. I would do as she asked. I would always do anything she asked.

I knew we couldn’t deviate from our usual routine. It would draw unnecessary attention. So during the week that meant swim, school, swim. And on Friday nights we’d watch football and then party down by the river.

A few minutes later, I pulled into the school parking area and scoped out a spot amongst the vehicles that packed the senior lot. Revelers drank and grilled on the folded-down tailgates of SUVs and pickup trucks. Voices rang out—loud, drunken, excited. Everyone in town attended home games. My father and Abby’s Uncle Jim would both be there. As would Sheriff Wilson.

We exited the truck and met at the rear. Unlike Zoe, Abby never waited in the passenger seat for me to open her door. Often, I wished she would.

“Hey Rhoades,” a voice called over the roar of the crowd. I looked across the parking lot to find Jeff Walker wearing blue and gold—our school colors—and striding in our direction. My jaw clenched and I tried to pretend I wasn’t pissed. Jeff was an okay guy. Decent student. Average swimmer. Had a major crush on Abby.

“We missed you at practice,” he said to Abby when he reached us. “But you look like you’re feeling better.”

“Thanks,” she replied, trying to mask her confusion behind an uncertain smile.

Right. I should’ve warned her that I’d told Coach she missed practice because she was sick. To be honest I didn’t want him knowing she was with the sheriff.

The silence grew awkward and Jeff raked a hand through hi long, dark hair while he shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. He wanted me to leave so he could talk to Abby alone. Probably wanted to invite her to be his date to the homecoming dance next Friday. I knew it but it didn’t make me any more inclined to budge from where I stood. “Well,” he finally said. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

When he was out of earshot, I let out a chuckle. “He likes you.” Poor guy. I’d never met anyone who had any luck with Abby.

“Yeah, right,” she replied as if she didn’t believe me. “And what was that all about anyway?”

“Um, yeah, you were sick today.”

“Really?”

“Deathly ill.”

She gave a short laugh. “And Coach bought that?”

“Probably not,” I admitted. Abby hadn’t missed a practice once in the five years I’d known her. Even when she fell off the monkey bars at the park and broke her wrist, she still got in the pool every day.

But Coach hadn’t said anything about it. I’m not sure why. Maybe he knew about Tom’s death. Maybe he figured she was upset. Or maybe, somehow, he knew what we were hiding. Would a thing like that have visible signs? Something for parents to detect?

The urge to take her hand overcame me and for a second when she moved closer, I thought she might be the one to reach out. But she didn’t. That wouldn’t be very Abby-like.

We walked side-by-side into the stadium. Close, but not touching. It was always distance with Abby. The distance we could cover in our runs. The distance we could swim in the pool in under a minute. The distance that existed between us even though I was her closest friend. A constant tug-of-war that kept us eternally linked but always apart.

The football players warmed up on the field beneath the bright lights and Zoe and Shannon stretched along the sidelines, their bodies tight and hot in the blue and gold uniforms that covered little more than the teeny bikinis they wore in the summer. At least they were dressed for the temperature, unlike Abby.

Shannon caught my eye and waved while Zoe glanced over, scowled, then returned to her stretching. So much for remaining friends. If Abby noticed the silent exchange, she didn’t mention it as we searched for a spot on the bleachers. “There,” I said and pointed her in the direction of an empty space near the top. Abby led the way, elbowing me when she took her seat.

“What?” I asked.

She flicked her head toward the person beside her so I leaned forward, pressing my forearms against my thighs, and peeked at her neighbor. It took all my will not to laugh and to give him a small two-fingered salute when he looked in my direction. “Hey Jeff,” I said.

“Hey guys,” he shot back, his voice was too loud, and his words rushed. He was barely able to contain his excitement. If things kept going the way they were he might actually believe he had a shot with Abby.

Abby inched closer to my hip, preferring me to Jeff. I tried to ignore how happy that made me. “Maybe you were right and we should’ve stayed home,” she whispered in my ear, sending chills down my spine.

“I’m always right. When will you learn that?”

“So you guys going down to the river after?” Jeff asked, hope evident in his voice. This was embarrassing. I kinda felt bad for the guy, but at the same time, it annoyed me that he assumed Abby and I weren’t together. By now, everyone should know Zoe and I had broken up. Abby would know soon too. I tried not to think about that. About what would cross her mind when she found out. Whether or not she would even care.

“Yeah man, we’ll be there,” I replied.

“Awesome,” he said and smiled again at Abby before turning his attention back to the field.

I wanted to punch him in his perfect mouth, like I had Nolan Carter. But Nolan was being a major douche and had deserved it. Jeff was just being nice and hitting on a girl that, as far as he knew, was single. He couldn’t know how I felt about her. To be honest, I didn’t even know. Wait, that wasn’t right. I’d always known exactly how I felt about Abby. I loved her.

She was my best friend. One of only three people on Earth I couldn’t imagine life without. The others were my mother and my brother. Everybody else could suck it.

“I’m ready to go when you are,” I told her.

Her lips curled upward but she shook her head. We would stay. Nothing would change. Everything would continue to be normal.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Later, at the river, Abby drank. A lot. Which was unusual because Abby didn’t drink. I always tried cutting back during training, but Abby never had a drop. Ever. “Don’t you ever want to just relax,” I’d once asked her.

She’d looked at me like I’d grown an extra head. “Do I strike you as the laid-back type?” she’d replied then.

Now she was chasing beer with scotch. Cheap stuff too. Misappropriated from someone’s dad’s liquor cabinet no doubt. Kids around here didn’t go out of their way to purchase scotch. This was clearly a last resort. Maybe they’d started carding again at the liquor store outside of town.

Bodies packed the clearing by the river. In the distance, a radio played country music and the people swayed together, too slow for the up-tempo beat, but unable to stop trying to touch one another. On one side, the river reflected the bright light of the full moon. On the other, a thick layer of trees separated us from town we were all drinking to obliterate from our memory. And in the middle, atop a patch of grass beaten down to dirt, a giant bonfire raged. The temperature had plummeted along with the sun and I found myself grateful for the warmth the fire provided. Turned out Abby had been right and I should’ve worn a sweater.

Surrounding the fire were benches fashioned out of downed tree trunks. Abby straddled one, turned toward and conversing solely with Jeff Walker who kept refilling her plastic cup like its emptiness was offensive. I couldn’t blame him really. Abby was smiling. Happy. It was one of the few times in the last week that I’d seen her really enjoy herself. I’d have done anything to keep that look on her face myself.

“So you about ready to remove your head from your ass?” I heard Zoe ask from behind me. I didn’t bother turning so a moment later she moved in front of me. She knew my weakness—I couldn’t ignore her if I could see her. And now, with the firelight flickering, its glow highlighting the various shades of gold in her hair, she was even more attractive than usual.

“What we’re not speaking now?” she asked.

“You were the one looking all pissy out on the field,” I reminded her. “I assumed you didn’t want to be friends.”

Zoe pouted, her lower lip jutting out in an unattractive expression she thought was cute. Clearly, I wasn’t responding how she imagined I should. “Of course I don’t want to be friends,” she whined. “I want us to go back to the way things were. For things to be normal.”

There was that word again. Normal. What the hell was everyone’s obsession with normalcy? As Zoe continued to speak, expressing her desire for us to be a couple once more, I watched Jeff and Abby. He leaned in, whispered something to her. She laughed. I wondered what was so damn funny.

“Did you even hear a word I just said?” Zoe’s brown eyes were on fire. Not from the flames. This was angry fire.

“No,” I admitted. She wasn’t my girlfriend anymore. I didn’t have to pretend to be interested in what she had to say.

Swiveling around, Zoe followed my line of sight to Abby. “Please tell me you’re not breaking up with me for
her
.”

And there it was. Proof that Zoe’s beauty ceased at her skin. If a person could fail to see Abby’s worth, they weren’t looking hard enough. “Have you’ve forgotten the conversation we had this morning? Who insisted I choose between the two of you?”

Zoe turned back to me and looked down at her shoes. They were heels. High. Red. Perfect choice for the soggy ground. “I thought you’d choose me,” she admitted.

I took a swig from my beer bottle, keeping my gaze locked on Abby and away from Zoe’s hair. Jeff laughed. Abby smiled. My heart ached. “Then you don’t know me too well,” I told Zoe. “Abby’s my best friend.”

Jeff rose, extending his hand to Abby. She clasped it in her own. Held his hand while he led her away from the crowd and into the woods. People went into the woods to make out. Abby was going to make out with Jeff. Here I was breaking up with the hottest girl in school while Abby was planning to hook up with Jeff-fucking-Walker.

“You’re doing it again,” Zoe accused.

“What’s that?”

“Ignoring me.”

I focused my attention on Zoe. Her soft hair. Her bright eyes. Her full lips. That spot on her neck where she liked to be kissed. “Do you love me?” I asked. The question must have caught her off guard because she blinked a few times before regaining her composure and mumbling an answer.

“Of course,” she lied.

I don’t know what I was looking for. It’s not like she’d never said it to me before. She said it when I dropped her off at her house and she kissed me goodnight. Said it when we ended telephone conversations and she wrote it at the end of all her texts. I guess maybe I was hoping to see it show, like for real, in her eyes. But they were just words. Sounds. Syllables. Worthless. Pointless.