Just One More Breath (3 page)

Wisely
, the girl didn’t say anything. She just slid her chair back far enough to stand, and moved away without so much as brushing me.

Then I
turned to Jaxson for answers. I spoke as clearly and calmly as I could given the circumstances. Inside, I was fuming, but I needed to know how. How my baby boy could be lying there, blue. Dead.

“What the hell happened to my
son, Jaxson? And if you tell me you don’t know, I swear to God, I will rip your head off.”

He looked at
me with a pitifully sad, slightly scared look on his face, and then he hung his head.

“Don’t you dare hang your damn head
. Be a man and look me in the eyes. Tell me what the hell happened to my child!”

Jaxson sighed loudly, then began to speak.
“When I picked Jax up this morning, we decided to spend the day at the Club just like I told you. When we got to there, we couldn’t agree on what we wanted to do. Jax really wanted to swim, but Lydia wanted to play tennis. So I dropped Jax off at the pool, and went to play a game of tennis with Lydia.”

With a
never previously experienced anger, so intense, I started hitting Jaxson in his face repeatedly with my balled-up fist.
This can’t be happening.

“You piece
-of-shit loser. You left my son, who couldn’t swim, in a pool unattended…so you could go play tennis with your new girlfriend? You selfish idiot! You killed my child!” I screamed.

Jaxson
didn’t even try to block the wild blows as I connected to various places on his body. And I did connect some good ones to his face. I saw blood dripping from his lip but I kept on swinging. Wanting to see more blood.

I
wanted him lying in a bed just like my son was. Even after two well-built security guards pulled me off him, I still kept trying to land a few more. The guards finally put me down when I was on the opposite side of the room. I looked at the man who still had a hand on my shoulder in his eyes and screamed, “I want him out. Get him out. He doesn’t get to stay here. He doesn’t get to stay here when he’s the one who did this.”

Everyone
was quiet. Uncomfortable. But, I didn’t care. I kept yelling her words of disdain at Jaxson.

“Get out! Don’t you hear me? GET.
THE. HELL. OUT! Leave us alone, you selfish bastard. Go be with Lydia. Now, you can get your wish…to be with her. Go.”

Jaxson
didn’t say another word. He just grabbed his things and walked out. Before he was out the door, I yelled one last thing at him, “I don’t ever want to see you again. Ever. Don’t you dare come anywhere near Jax or me again. Forget we ever existed.”

Jaxson
doubled over as if someone had hit him square in the stomach. He turned, left, quietly closing the door behind him.

When
Jaxson disappeared from my sight, I crumbled to the floor. Zena caught me before I hurt myself, and gently rocked me back and forth while I cried. I used my last ounce of strength to climb into the bed with Jax, needing to be near my son. I needed to hold him for what I knew would be the last time. I wrapped my arms around his cool body and placed my head on his chest. A chest that was once filled with the beat of a strong and healthy heart—the most beautiful heart to ever exist—was silent. I ran my hands up and down his body trying to memorize the feel of him. I skimmed my nose through his still damp hair, just to get a smell of him. The same smell that filled my heart with love only a few short hours ago.

These actions brought
me back to a time when my baby was just two months old. He was crying uncontrollably and nothing anyone did would soothe him. I was about to give up on soothing my wailing baby, because I had also started crying. As I walked over to his crib an idea hit me. I put his little head on my chest, so his ear were right above my heart and began to sing random words that filled my head.

I
sat up in the bed and held Jax’s limp body, just like I had all those years ago, placing his head right above my heart. I rocked him gently and sang the words just loud enough for him to hear them:

“Sleep my sweet baby, sleep my sweet boy. Your smile and laugh fills my whole heart with joy. The love I feel for you is one I can’t deny, one I know I will feel until the day that I die.”

As I choked out the last few words, my chest began to heave. I squeezed my son as tight as possible, and stayed with him until the doctors came and told me it was time to take him away.

I
finally understood devastating agony for the first time. Raw. Excruciating. Agony

Three months had passed since I lost my son. Twelve weeks had gone by since he called me Mommy. Seventy days since I heard the beautiful sound of his laughter. To some, that might seem like a long time, but to me the unbelievable pain that had followed me since that terrible day made it feel like yesterday. Back when I was in college, I remembered hearing the quote:

“You never know how strong you are until being strong is the only choice you have.”

After all I had been through, I understood exactly what that quote meant.

Never in a million years did
I imagine I’d be strong enough to hold things together the way I had been. I never thought I would be strong enough to choose a suit to bury my ten-year-old son in. I never thought I would be able to pick a shiny royal-blue casket for him to lie in for eternity - it had been his favorite color—or stand by and watch helplessly as my only child was lowered into the ground. But, somehow, I was still standing.

The only person
I refused to deal with was my soon-to-be ex-husband. He was not involved in any of the planning, and he wasn’t invited to the memorial service, nor the funeral. I didn’t care if anyone thought I was cold-hearted or callous. I did not hide the fact that I blamed him and his selfishness one hundred percent for what happened to my son. It was his negligence that caused him to drown, therefore making him a killer. I was sure that if I ever laid eyes on him again I would end up in jail.

Other than the constant aching in
my heart for Jax, my life over the last few months had been a humongous blur. The one thing I did remember clearly was the first month after the accident. This was because my house had been constantly filled with visitors. My family members and close friends cooked for me, and brought me flowers, fruit baskets, and various other gifts. But now that three months had passed, things started to slow down, and my once full house had become painfully quiet.

After
my parents made their final move out of state, restlessness began brewing in me. The urge to mother my child was almost stifling; being Jax’s mother had become such a big part of my identity that I didn’t know how to function. The bond we shared had been so strong, I knew that even in death, I felt that he still needed me, and I knew I still needed him.

Today would be
my first day back at work since the accident. Zena had insisted on having a sleepover the night before. She wanted to make sure I “looked phenomenal” on my first day back at the center. But I knew Zena just wanted to offer support in case I had a breakdown.

That morning
, I pulled myself out of Jax’s bed, which had become my new favorite place to sleep. I took a steaming hot shower, and washed my hair in an effort to start the day strong. When I exited the bathroom, my bedroom door was ajar and I could hear the unmistakable beat of “Grown Woman” by Beyoncé seeping out. It was Zena’s and my favorite song; we played it anytime something new or nerve-wracking was approaching, or if we simply needed a pick me up. When I pushed my bedroom door open, I saw a black and green colored skirt, and a nude, frilly shirt laid out on my bed.

I
glanced over to my vanity and saw a fully dressed Zena bopping and singing her heart out while applying makeup. A smile spread across my face as I grabbed my hairbrush and shimmied over to Zena singing along. When Zena caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror, she grabbed her brush. Then we simultaneously narrowed our eyes, pouted our lips, and started doing fierce Beyoncé-esque shoulder rolls while we sang.

“I’m a Grooooowwwwn Woman
,”
we bellowed. When the song ended we both laughed hysterically and breathed heavily. Any jitters that I felt about returning to work had magically disappeared. Zena noticed my light mood and pulled me in for a hug.

“Good day
, sunshine, I picked out an outfit for you,” Zena said.

I
took another glance at the outfit laid out on the bed and smiled. “Yes I noticed, and it’s a stunning one. Thank you very much.”

“Did you expect anything less than stunning?” Zena asked. “You haven’t been at the center in over three months. I had to make sure that you
returned in style.”

She gave
me an exaggerated wink, and threw her attention back to applying her makeup. Once I was fully dressed, Zena applied a light amount of makeup onto my face. When I looked in the mirror I was totally shocked by my physical transformation. I looked a whole lot better than I felt. On the outside I looked like a bombshell businesswoman, but on the inside I felt broken. I was proud that I could still look pulled together. However, I knew internally I would never ever feel pulled together again, because I missed my baby boy more that words could ever express.

Zena went out to start the car, while
I gathered my belongings and organized my bag. Before leaving, I stopped in Jax’s room, picked up his Mariano Rivera Yankees jersey, and hugged it. I brought the shirt up to my nose and inhaled. The scent of my sweet boy filled my lungs and made my heart race. I quickly grabbed a tissue from my bag to catch my tears before they slipped down my cheeks and ruined my makeup.

When
I finally calmed down, I placed the jersey back neatly into its place and ran outside to the car. When I opened the car door, Zena gave me a pitiful look. The evidence of my tears was still present in my slightly puffy eyes and red face. I sighed deeply, as we silently pulled away from the curb.

*~*~*~*~*~

Zena and I built The A.R.T Center from the ground up, and it was our pride and joy. We’d worked hard for the last four years trying to make it a success. Many late nights and early mornings were spent trying to get it up and running. I felt really guilty for leaving Zena to run it alone while I was away on bereavement leave, but I just wasn’t in the right headspace to be effective there. Luckily, Zena shared my passion for the center and always insisted that she didn’t mind putting in extra hours and days during my absence.

Zena’s mother had given birth to her when she was fifteen, which is why
The A.R.T Center was special to her. Her mother didn’t want the burden of raising a child so Zena was left with her father who couldn’t seem to stay out of jail, and her paternal grandmother, who’d had other issues.

The A.R.T
Center’s mission was to educate young girls about abstinence and birth control to aid in avoiding teenage pregnancy altogether. However, in the unfortunate case where it did happen, we wanted to provide them the same support I had received.

We
both believed that with the right support system, these girls could obtain a college education and join the workforce. We assisted with college applications, tutors, and job placement. There were also some older women who volunteered babysitting services to the young mothers so they could go to work, attend school, or even have some peace and quiet to do homework and study.

When
we entered the front door of The A.R.T Center, I was met by bright smiles from the volunteers and mothers who were inside. One by one they approached me to offer hugs and words of love. I hugged and kissed the girls I knew; all of who were teary-eyed when they saw me. I also introduced myself to the newbies, ensuring them that once I was caught up with work, I would have a meet-and-greet so we could become better acquainted.

When
my quick welcome back was complete, I dove headfirst into my work, and to my amazement, it felt really good. Surprisingly, work was a welcomed distraction from the hollowness that had taken up permanent residence in the center of my chest. Throughout the day, there were a few silent moments where I felt overwhelmed with grief, but something always came up to pull me out of the dark hole.

Minutes quickly turned into hours
, and before I could get caught up on my pile of emails, Zena knocked on my office door with lunch in hand. I smiled and motioned her inside.

"I took the liberty of ordering us salads
,” Zena said. “It will save us from feeling guilty about all the fried and fatty foods we are going to eat at your welcome back dinner tonight."

My
eyebrows arched in confusion. "I'm having a welcome back dinner?"

"Uh
. Yeah," Zena replied

I
groaned. "Oh Jesus, Zena. I don't need any celebrations. Coming back to work isn’t that big of a deal."

Zena looked at
me as if I had three eyes. "Shut up, yes you do. This is a huge deal," Zena insisted. Her words frustrated me.

"That’s exactly what I don't want; this needs to be the smallest deal possible. I just want
to quietly attempt to get back to normal, no frills. No celebration.... You know what I mean?"

Zena ignored
my words and kept insisting. “Yes, and you will be getting back to life by having dinner here with a few friends later on."

I
gave in; I could see that Zena was passionate about the celebration so it made no sense to argue with her. I popped open my salad. "Okay, fine.... Whatever."

Zena beamed
, and when I glanced down at my salad I smiled too. It was exactly what I would’ve chosen had I ordered for myself; spinach with fruit and grilled chicken. Zena was definitely more like my sister than my best friend. It made me feel good to still have someone in my corner who knew me inside and out.

I
opened my salad but waited a few seconds before I began eating; I had enough meals with Zena to know exactly what was about to happen next. After Zena took a bite of her salad her eyes darted over to mine.

"Can I have a few of your grapes?" Zena asked
, while she pointed with her fork. I snickered and leaned my bowl toward her to let her have at it. This felt good. Normal.

After a few digs
, Zena was satisfied and I began eating. "Okay, so tell me who's coming to this dinner."

"Well…Mason...
of course," Zena said with a smile. I tried my best to hide my displeasure. Mason was Zena’s boyfriend. To say that I didn’t like him would be an understatement. I couldn’t stand him and prayed that Zena would wise up and drop him back on the same shitty corner she picked him up from. I forced a smile and continued listening to the guest list. 

"Shawn, Tyler, Nadia
, and a few others," Zena listed.

My
eyebrows rose. "Oh, Shawn is coming?”

“Oh boy. Here we go
,” Zena said, as she rolled her eyes.

I
pretended to be shocked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh please, don’t give me that fake innocence. You and Shawn have had the hots for each other as far back as I can remember. Just because you never acted on it doesn’t mean it wasn’t obvious to everyone who hangs around you two. I’m pretty
sure if you weren’t married he would’ve had you six ways to Sunday.”

I
lightly touched my chest, slightly shocked by Zena’s words. As much as I hated to admit it, they were spot on. Shawn Burns is a tall glass of water with skin the color of sweet caramel, his shoulders, wide from his years of swimming. He was a manly man, with big hands, a deep authoritative voice, and the mind-blowing combination of light grey eyes, deep dimples, and a panty-dropping smile. And just when you thought he couldn’t get any sexier, he had the light sprinkle of freckles scattered across his nose and cheekbones. Certified knee bucklers, and I, for one, was not immune to all of that.

I tried desperately to hide my blush as I let my mind enjoy thoughts of Shawn. I never would've admitted it before because I was married and felt guilty about another man affecting me the way Shawn Burns did. But now I was ready to come clean to my best friend. "You're right; he's always been one of the few guys who could affect me physically. Most of the time it’s just with a smile, or a question that he asks."

Zena sagged in her chair.
"Finally the truth comes out. Thank you, Jesus."

I
threw a grape at her and she put on a fake frown.

"I'm serious
, Zee, he always asks questions about things that my ex never cared about, and he remembers what I like. Sure it feels good, but Shawn is a player, that’s part of his game."

"He never tried that game with me
. I'm telling you, Nic, he's got it bad for you."

"Whatever. I'm happy to see him because he’s an old friend and I’ve been meaning to call him. I want him to handle my divorce." 

Zena frowned at the revelation "Are you sure you want to jump into a divorce now? Isn’t it kind of soon to be thinking about that?"

"Yes
, Zena." My words came out much more forceful than I intended and Zena flinched slightly.

"I’m sorry for yelling, but yes
, I’m sure. I need that man out of my life permanently. He initiated the separation and now I’m initiating the divorce. I don't want anything tying me to him anymore."

Zena
’s eyes were cast down. She took in a deep breath as if preparing for a difficult task. I couldn’t work out why Zena wouldn’t want me to initiate this divorce.

“Zena,
if I didn’t know better I would think you didn’t want me to divorce him,” I said, still unable to speak his name.