Barely Breathing (43 page)

Rachel's mouth opened in shock.

"Do you ever consider what I go through every time you drink too much, or disappear to a bar to come home whenever you want with whomever you want?"

She stumbled back at my attack. The angry fire spread through my veins, consuming me. I remained unaffected by the stunned look on her face or the tears forming in her eyes. My voice grew louder. I was blinded with fury, and I couldn't hold back even if I tried.

"You've never thought about anyone other than yourself my entire life! Do you even love me? You probably never wanted me. That's why you left me with
them
. Do you have any idea what she did to me? Do ever think about it? But that would mean you'd actually have to stop thinking of yourself for one minute!"

I took a step toward her and she shrunk beneath me. The fear in her eyes fueled my rage. My hands shook as I clenched my teeth. I was unable to reel myself back in.

My entire body was engulfed in flames when I yelled, “I don't understand why I'm here! You're not a mother, you never have been. I don't need you.

"Besides, you're too consumed with my father's death to care about anyone else. Why do you keep obsessing over a man who never loved you?"

The sound was loud, and the sting was hot on my cheek. My head rocked to the side with the force of her hand. I slowly lifted my head and stared at her, snapped out of my spiraling rage. Tears streamed down her face, and she looked like she was about to collapse.

My entire body trembled. I hadn’t realized I'd been crying, but the corners of my eyes were raw from the flow of tears.

"Emma?" I heard behind me and spun around. Evan was coming up the walkway. "What's going on?" He looked more distraught than I'd anticipated. As he got closer and saw the red mark on my face and our stunned expressions, the worry turned to anger. "What happened? Did you hit her?" He glared at Rachel who was still too shocked to speak.

I wiped my cheeks and faltered down the steps. "I have to go."

"What?" he questioned in disbelief. "Emma, where have you been all day? Why didn't you call me? What just happened here?"

"I didn't have my phone, and I'm so sorry," my voice was shaky, the repercussions of my brutality starting to settle in. "I have to get to practice."

"Really? You don't look like you should be driving anywhere. You need to talk to me."

I stopped and took a breath. My eyes pleaded for him to understand. "I will, I promise, but I can't right now. I have to go. Don't you have a game?"

"Yeah, but―"

"Evan, go to your game. I can't right now. I'm going to be late for practice." My hands shook uncontrollably. I glanced up at the porch, but she was gone. "I'm staying at Sara's this weekend. Come over tonight, okay?"

I started to walk away, but he rushed up and blocked my path. "I can't let you leave like this. What happened?"

"We got in an argument," I explained, swallowing hard to keep the guilt at bay. I didn't want to think about it. I might crumple right there on the driveway. "Please. Please, let me go to practice. You can follow me there if you don't trust me."

His eyes narrowed. "What?" he questioned angrily. "Emma, this has nothing to do with trust. I was
worried
about you. You've been more withdrawn lately, and yesterday you start questioning whether you should exist or not. I was afraid something happened to you today. That you..." He couldn't finish. The pain on his face captured his words.

I bit my quivering lip and closed my eyes. "I am so sorry," I muttered softly. "I can't believe I did this to you. I just needed to get away for the day, to figure things out. I should have called you. I'm so, so sorry, Evan." I wanted nothing more than to touch him, to wrap my arms around him and hold him against me. But I was afraid to reach for him, because it would've destroyed me if he pulled away.

"Okay," he said to himself, nodding, not making any move toward me. "Okay," he repeated, looking me in the eye, nodding again like he was trying to accept my words and figure out what to do next. "Go to practice. I'll see you at Sara's tonight." He turned around and strode toward his car without another word, and without touching me.

I continued to my car, shutting everything off. I couldn't think. I couldn't feel. I just needed to get away from this, and I knew practice would distract me long enough to calm me down.

I backed out of the driveway before Evan was in his car. I glanced in the rearview mirror to see him standing by his door, watching me drive away.

I swiped at the tears and wrapped my fingers tightly around the steering wheel. This was my fault. This was all my fault. And now I had two hours to figure out how to fix it.

34. Confessions

"Emma, what the hell is going on?!" Sara demanded fervently from the other end of the phone. "What happened to you today?"

I sat in my car coated in sweat, having pushed it to the extreme during practice―to distract and punish myself. I emerged prepared to make amends.

"I know, I was completely stupid today," I responded with a heavy breath. "And now everyone's angry with me. I just got out of practice and will be over after I pick up clothes for the weekend. I promise I'll tell you everything, okay?"

"Yes, you will," she stated firmly, letting me know that she expected the extended version of the story. "I'll see you in a little while then."

I hung up and found a text waiting from Jonathan,
You okay?

I have some major damage to fix
, I answered.

I pulled out of the lot and headed to the house, not sure if Rachel would be home or not. I wanted to prepare myself either way, unsettled by both scenarios.

My phone beeped while I was driving. I glanced over at it to find,
It was my fault. I can try to explain if you want. I am really so sorry Emma. Mad?

When I pulled into the driveway, I responded with,
I knew what I was doing, not your fault. Not mad, but need time to make things better. Talk soon.

Just as I was about to open the door, my phone chimed again. My heartbeat picked up when I placed the phone to my ear, "Hi."

"Hi," Evan said so quietly I could barely hear him.

"I'm at the house picking up clothes for the weekend. I'll be at Sara's soon," I told him, my voice soft and cautious.

"I don't think I'm going to Sara's."

My heart twisted and I closed my eyes.

"Why?" I breathed.

"I think I need time away too," he explained in a quiet, even tone. My eyes filled. "Emma, I know you haven't been honest with me." A lump lodged in my throat. "I don't understand what's going on and why you can't tell me, but I know that you've been having problems with your mother. I knew when she called in the middle of the night at Sara's, and I saw how upset she was with you over that sweater. I saw what she did to you the night of her birthday, and I knew she was the reason you left Jill's party. And now this."

My breath shook as I listened to him, his insight crushing me.

"Emma, you're not letting me in... again. I can't... If I'm part of your life, then you can't keep shutting me out."

We were silent for a moment. Guilt strangled me, and I choked on every word that attempted to surface.

"I'll be back next Saturday. We'll talk then."

"Evan," I implored. But there wasn't anyone on the other end. I swallowed my tears and clamped my mouth shut to keep the hurt trapped. I couldn't fathom an entire week without talking to him―and I didn't know how to explain my motives when I finally did.

I got out of the car and dragged my body to the house. Anything Rachel said to me now would never be as painful as Evan's silence.

I reflected on how this day had begun with promises of the summer to come. The warmth still lingered, and there was even the scent of a fire pit in the air. It was unfortunate that the most gorgeous day of the year had become the darkest.

The front door was unlocked and the lights were off. The gold hues of twilight filtered through the windows and cast shadows along the floor. I walked to the stairs, deciding
time
might be what we all needed, and that I'd just get my things without seeking Rachel out.

"I tried," she murmured from within the living room. I turned toward her voice, and hesitated. "I really tried to like you. I wanted to."

I took a step closer, recognizing the signature slurs of her tongue. I was too broken to be wounded by her words, but decided I needed to hear them anyway.

Light from the front window spread along the floor to the coffee table, leaving the couch in the dark. Rachel lay on her side, supporting her head on the arm of the couch. A nearly depleted bottle of vodka reflected on the coffee table next to a glass filled with ice.

Rachel grabbed the bottle and dumped it over the cubes, filling the glass to the rim. She picked it up, sloshing the vodka over the side, onto the floor. She took a large sip and placed the tumbler back on the table.

I stood in the entrance of the room, watching her. Truly wondering if the vodka took away her pain. It seemed to always amplify her temperament, not mask it. Or perhaps it released her secrets unfiltered, brutal and honest. I awaited the truthful assault.

"I thought he would love me more because of you. He was so happy when you were born. But you took him from me." She picked up the glass and took a larger sip before setting it down, half consumed.

"You can't take them all away from me, Emily."

I wasn't sure what she meant. At first I thought she was talking about his death, but I didn't know who else she meant... Then it hit me. Jonathan. She thought he'd chosen me over her.

"Why didn't they love me? Why wasn't I enough?" she choked, raising her voice. "Why you?" Her head lolled slightly as she shifted to face me. Her eyes were heavy, but the hatred in them was unmistakable. "You." She shook her head lazily, closing her lids with the motion. "You. You should never have been born."

And just when I thought I couldn't hurt anymore, her words left me breathlessly incapacitated. I leaned against the entryway for support.

"Sharon left you, not me."

I was confused again, until she clarified, "I didn't leave you. Was in the hospital. Took too many pills." The more she talked, the harder it was for her to form words. The vodka was completely taking over. "Said I couldn't have you. But never wanted you. I can't," she breathed heavily, the effort to speak draining her. "Can't love you."

My head spun, and each breath was excruciating. She took another sip from the glass and almost missed the table when she set it back down with a hard thump. She laid her head on the arm of the couch and closed her eyes.

I stumbled out of the room, then stopped before I reached the stairs. I turned back around and realized there was something wrong. I scanned the living room in a panic. Where was it? What had she done with it?

Then I remembered the smell of burning wood when I came home, and spun around toward the back door. I rushed out into the small yard and practically collapsed on the stairs. It felt like someone had thrust their fist through my chest and was squeezing my heart.

In the middle of the yard was a heap of embers still glowing red. A few spindles were recognizable amongst the ashes, but it was gone. She had set the rocking chair on fire and now there was nothing left.

I clumsily lowered myself down on the steps while holding onto the railing, staring at the remains and shaking my head in aggrieved awe, lost in the wafts of smoke.

Pulling myself up, I returned inside, empty and broken. My insides felt like they'd been ripped out and burned as well. I couldn't see straight. My eyes were glazed over as I made my way to the stairs.

I trudged up to my dark room without glancing in the living room. Flipping on the light, I mindlessly filled my bag with random clothes. I zipped the bag and fell back into darkness when I shut off the light. My hand slid along the railing as my legs numbly guided me along.

I gripped the doorknob to leave and hesitated, searching within the shadows of the living room. I couldn't see her. But I could hear her breathing.

Compelled, I walked to the loveseat and sat down across from her. I folded my arms and stared at her silhouette, listening to her breathe.

I knew. I always knew she didn't love me. I didn't know why I thought I could change that, even after all this time. It would never change. She couldn't even look at me most of my life, forget about love me.

I knew. But I didn't understand why she kept trying. She'd show up at my sports games. And the letters she'd write... why? I guess that was her effort―she said she tried. She couldn't convince herself to love me anymore than I believed that she did.

I looked away and my eyes fell upon the glass leaving a wet ring on the coffee table. Pain killer. Really?

I leaned forward and picked up the half glass of vodka. The ice cubes were melting into tiny stones. I brought it to my nose and smelled it. My mouth filled with saliva and I cringed. I pressed the rim to my lips and tipped it back, taking a large sip.

I coughed and grimaced in disgust. The liquid set my stomach on fire as it crashed against its empty walls. I took a deep breath and shuddered. It was horrible, but so was aspirin if you let it touch your tongue―and that was supposed to take away pain as well. I held my nose and swallowed again, emptying the glass―wanting it to work, to take away my pain.

I held the empty glass in my hands and my eyes filled with tears. What had I done? I clenched my jaw and breathed heavily through flared nostrils. What had I done? I shook my head, horrified.

I slammed the glass down on the table and stood up to leave. The sight of the vodka bottle filled me with so much fury, I wanted to scream. I picked it up and clenched it so tightly, I thought it might shatter in my hand. Shaking with rage, I threw it into the darkness. The glass shattered against the wall on the far side of the foyer.

I breathed a sob and rushed to the door, grabbing my bag and slamming the door behind me.