Barely Breathing (6 page)

“That's okay," I assured her―all too familiar with being possessed by nervousness. "Why don’t I show Evan around?”

"Uh, sure," she agreed, returning to the living room to put away the CDs that were spread over the floor.

I didn’t bother showing Evan the downstairs, since all he had to do with was turn in a circle to see the entire layout. I took his hand and led him to my room, closing the door behind us.

“Nice room,” Evan admired, ducking under the slanted ceiling to sit on my bed. “How’s it going? She seems nice.”

“Yeah," I said hesitantly, not knowing how to answer him. "It's fine... I mean, she's great."

“You're nervous too, huh?” he acknowledged with a small laugh. "I guess I can see who you get your red cheeks from."

"Funny," I returned sarcastically. Nervous was just the tip of what I was feeling. I couldn't begin to describe the panic that slithered inside of me. Maybe when it all came down to it, I was afraid she was going to tell me that she couldn’t do this―that she didn’t want to be a part of my life again. And that thought kept me from being able to relax long enough to appreciate that I was here, with her. "I guess I am kinda nervous.”

"You're going to be fine," Evan assured me, giving my hand a squeeze. “Oh, I have something for your room.”

Evan reached inside his jacket and pulled out a large envelope, handing it to me. I opened it and pulled out a stack of pictures. I smiled as I flipped through the images Evan had captured with his camera. Action shots of me playing soccer, feral and intense. Still moments of Sara and me laughing. Another of me sitting on his front porch, lost in thought, oblivious to his camera. There were even a few shots of the two of us posing, his arm around my shoulder, that were taken during a picnic last fall.

I leaned over and kissed him. “Exactly what my room needs.” I removed the sign from the board above the desk and tucked the pictures under the black ribbon that crisscrossed over its surface.

A soft knock rapped on my door. Before I could say anything, my mother slowly opened it and poked her head in. “I was going to order a pizza. Are you hungry?”

“That sounds great. Thank you,” Evan responded for the two of us. I pressed my lips together and nodded.

I remained silent at the kitchen table, listening to my mother's nervous chatter. She interrogated Evan about… well, everything. I think focusing on him was her way of keeping the awkwardness between us at bay. If we were both desperately focused on every word that came out of Evan's mouth, we wouldn't have to figure out what to say to each other. Evan handled the pressure calmly, per usual. He didn't give a hint that the atmosphere was heavily laced with anxiety. But after he left, the uneasy tension was crushing.

"Do you want to watch a movie?" she asked as I wrapped the left over pizza to place it in the stark refrigerator.

"I actually have a paper I need to work on that's due tomorrow," I lied. She nodded slowly, and I feared she could tell I wasn't being honest.

"Okay," she finally said, looking disappointed. A pang of guilt shot through me as I retreated to my room. But I really needed to be alone.

I lay down on my bed with my arms crossed behind my head and stared up at the freshly painted ceiling. I had so many strange emotions swirling inside of me. I needed a moment to sort them out.

I hadn’t said more than a half dozen words to this woman in five years, and now I was her roommate. Well, that’s what it felt like. She told stories about her friends and the trips she’d taken as if she were sharing them with someone she’d just met, not her daughter. They made me think about what I was doing while she was having so much fun, and I felt ill.

While I was in the darkest depths of hell, my mother had been traveling, drinking, and living a carefree life. I wanted to throw up just thinking about it. She never once mentioned leaving me, or my time with Carol and George and what they did to me. It was as if that time had never happened, and we were starting anew―with a big black hole in between. I guess
I
was having a hard time moving past it.

To be honest, I hadn’t considered what it would be like to live with her. It’s not like I had expected to rekindle a relationship that was never there in the first place, but I wasn’t expecting to discover I was completely vacant from her life both physically and emotionally for the past five years.

I stayed in my room for the rest of the night, finally going into the bathroom―that was pretty much the size of a large closet―to get ready for bed around midnight. The television was on in the living room. “Good night.” I hollered down the stairs and heard her talking and laughing in the kitchen, evidently on the phone. I shut my door without waiting for her to respond and slipped under the crisp new white sheets, pulling the comforter under my chin.

My phone chimed next to me, and I picked it up to read,
Good night. Hope you sleep well in your new room!
from Sara. I didn’t respond and clicked off the bedside lamp.

I stared into the dark, still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I was here, living with my mother. The windows rattled as a gust of wind howled outside. I closed my eyes, but within minutes they snapped open. The boards creaked on the stairs. I tried to relax, realizing it was just my mother. I followed her footsteps as each board gave beneath her, until she shut the bathroom door.

I wish I could say that I drifted off to sleep, but it appeared the boards didn't need anyone walking on them to creak. I was restless throughout the night, continually awakened by the groans of the house. The cold air whistled through the rattling panes of the windows, just like the scattered thoughts that whirled through my head.

5. People Change

“Good morning,” Evan greeted from the slick walkway. I closed the door behind me, leaving my mother in the shower getting ready for work.

“Hi,” I replied flatly, adjusting my backpack over my shoulder as I took calculated steps toward his car.

“You have something against mornings, don’t you?” Evan teased, opening the passenger door. I smirked before kissing him briefly on the lips and ducking into the car.

“Sorry,” I offered when he closed his door. “I didn’t sleep well. This house is super creaky.” Considering my weariness, I was glad he'd offered to pick me up on our first day back from break.

“What are you doing after practice tonight? Do you want to come over?”

“Sure,” I answered automatically, and then quickly countered with, “I can’t.”

Evan appeared confused.

“I’m going grocery shopping with my mother,” I explained. "She’s not sure what I eat, so she wants me to go with her."

"Okay," Evan replied. "How was it after I left last night? You two were pretty funny at dinner―she talks when she's nervous, and you don't say anything."

"That was torture for you, wasn't it?"

"I was fine," he chuckled. "I'm pretty sure it was worse for you."

"I... I don't know what to talk to her about," I confessed.

"I think you could just let her do all the talking," Evan advised comically.

I stared out the window in a daze. I didn't realize we had pulled into the school parking lot until the car stopped. A wave of dread consumed me as I watched the students getting out of their cars.

“I know you don’t want to be here,” Evan acknowledged, reading my thoughts. “But I'm convinced it’ll be different.” I didn’t say anything and got out of the car.

I used to look forward to coming to school―not for the social benefits, but to escape the oppression at home. After everything that had happened, my safe place had become the place I dreaded most.

When I started the school year, I kept my head bowed, trying to retract further into my shell―not only in the halls but in the classroom as well. I refused to participate other than to complete the assignments. Sara and Evan eventually gave up trying to encourage me, promising that it wasn't as bad as I thought.

I stared at the brick building and took a deep breath before closing the car door. I pulled my backpack over my shoulder, preparing myself for the scrutiny. Evan took my hand, its warmth comforting me. Sara was waiting for us by the back door, smiling brightly as usual, and greeting just about everyone passing her by.

“Good morning,” she beamed. Then her brows dipped into a scowl. “You didn’t sleep well,

huh?”

“Wow,” I responded to her bluntness. “Do I look that bad?”

“No,” Evan countered quickly before Sara could utter the truthful words on the tip of her tongue.

“Liar,” Sara and I chimed in unison. I met her eyes and we started laughing. The sound of my laughter had the strangest effect, like waking a sleepy village from a curse. All of a sudden I heard, “Hi, Emma.”

I turned my head to find Jill standing next to us. “How was your New Year?” Before any of us could respond, or shake off the stupefied looks on our faces, she continued, “Did you hear about the party at Michaela’s? Her parents came home in the middle of it, and of course everyone was drunk. But the worst part was when they found Nick and Tara having sex on their bed. Michaela is so screwed.”

And just like that, the past seven months never happened. Jill and Sara continued talking about the party while Evan and I followed behind. Evan wore an "I told you so" smile on his face, and I smirked at the sight of it. As we continued down the hall, I realized the stares were gone, and no one was whispering as I passed them. Every so often, someone would acknowledge us with a "hi" or "good morning." It was freaking me out. Everyone was letting it go... or pretending to anyway.

“Good to see you survived over vacation,” a voice cut through the crowd. Evidently not
everyone
had gotten over it.

Evan stiffened as the jeering words found us. My chest tightened in response. Evan spun around and pinned a guy against a locker with his forearm across his chest. I looked on in complete shock, and everyone in the hallway froze.

“What did you say?” But it wasn’t Evan asking the question. Several other seniors were surrounding the guy, who by the size of him, must have been a freshman. Joel Rederick leaned in closer as Evan kept the guy immobilized. The freshman stared back in complete panic, sweat beading along his forehead.

“Nothing,” he choked.

“That’s what I thought,” another senior threatened.

“Don’t bother walking down the senior halls again,” Evan seethed.

“What’s going on here?” an authoritative voice questioned from behind the crowd. Evan released the freshman, and the seniors began to part. The guy scurried away in search of the small pack who had abandoned him.

“Dick,” Jill snapped from behind me. Everyone continued on their way, and the talking resumed. No one looked twice at me as I remained still, attempting to digest what had just happened.

“Sorry about that,” Evan offered, taking my hand once again.

“It’s okay,” I replied slowly, recovering from my befuddlement. “Thank you.”

He studied me with eyebrows raised, not expecting my reaction, then grinned before leaning down to kiss me.

“Ahh, you’re in the middle of the hall,” Sara stated with an undertone of
omigod
. Evan pulled back, and I looked at her oddly.

Sara and I continued to our lockers, and I asked, "Since when do you care if Evan kisses me in the hall?"

"You don't like to draw attention, remember?" Sara stated from within her locker.

"Sara, is there something wrong?" I questioned, sensing she was still not right.

"No, I'm fine," she returned, closing her locker with a smile.

I watched her walk off, knowing she wasn't being honest with me.

After basketball practice, I arrived home to find my mother at the kitchen table writing down a list of what we needed―which was practically everything from the looks of it.

"Hi," she greeted. "I think I have some ideas for meals. Is there anything you don't like?”

"I'm pretty open to trying anything... except for meatballs," I told her with an inadvertent shiver. "But you don't have to do anything crazy. Besides, I usually come home late because of basketball."

"We'll pick out some easy things. How's that?" she offered, scanning her list again. "That way you can throw something together for yourself if you come home late or if I have to stay at work."

The thought of preparing anything beyond a sandwich was intimidating. "What?" she questioned anxiously, when she saw my scrunched face.

"Um, I'm not exactly adept in the kitchen," I confessed sheepishly.

"You can't cook?" she clarified in shock.

"Does oatmeal count?" I shrugged in embarrassment.

My mother laughed. "Well... I guess we'll be shopping in the frozen food section, too."

We got in her car and drove to the grocery store in the next town over. She spent the ride reviewing the list and asking for my input. I'd never really had a say before, so I didn't contribute much. When I lived with Carol and George, I would write the basics of what I needed on the grocery list―cereal, granola bars, and the like―since I wasn't allowed to eat it unless I'd asked for it. But for the most part, I ate what was put in front of me, no questions asked―even when it made me violently ill.

We ultimately decided to make up the list as we went along. Which was pretty much our approach to everything―including our relationship.

"You know I'm not exactly very good at this mother thing, right?" my mother said, picking through a pile of apples and putting a few that met her approval in a produce bag.

I didn't know how to respond. It was the start of a conversation I never expected to have in a grocery store.

"I mean, I don't want you to think that I'm expecting to walk back into your life and take charge or anything," she continued, her voice laced with apprehension. "I just want... I think it would be nice if we were... friends. You know, instead of..." She looked at me with her lips pressed together. "I just want to get to know you. Does that make sense?"

My shoulders eased in relief. I had no idea where the conversation was headed, but this was a welcome surprise. I wasn't exactly sure how to be her daughter any more than I expected her to be my mother.