Reason to Breathe (21 page)

“Thank you again, Lauren,” I said as I opened
the car door.

“If you want a ride home tomorrow, let me
know. It was nice talking to you. I feel like we never get to
really talk.”

“I may take you up on that,” I said
reluctantly, knowing I’d rather walk then ask for another ride.

I tried to make it through the kitchen, but
was stopped in my tracks by a stinging pain to my right arm. I
winced and turned to find Carol with a metal serving spoon in her
hand.

“Who the hell was that?” Carol demanded,
obviously very agitated. I looked around and realized George wasn’t
here, and from her grip of the spoon, this could not be good for
me.

“That was Lauren. She’s one of the team
captains,” I tried to explain. I was too nervous that she’d see
through my lie if I tried to explain why Sara didn’t drive me, so I
left it at that.

“You’re pathetic. If you’re begging for rides
and embarrassing me, I will hurt you severely. Sara’s finally seen
you for who you are, huh?”

The mention of Sara’s name stung worse than
the red mark on my arm. I remained still, looking for any
opportunity to back away to my room before this escalated.

That’s when her eyes widened, and the metal
spoon walloped the side of my head. I let out a moan and put my
hand to my head, backing against the wall.

“You’re fucking disgusting,” she declared,
the storm in her eyes brewing, making me fear what was to come.
“How dare you come into my house smelling like that.”

I looked down at my practice clothes and
released a breath of defeat. I chose not to shower after practice
today, so I wouldn’t keep Lauren waiting. Wrong choice.

“Mom,” Jack yelled from upstairs, distracting
her. “Is Dad back with the pizza yet?”

She had to shake the fury from her brow
before she replied in her best mother tone, “No honey, but he
should be here soon. Why don’t you and Leyla get washed up.”

“Get out of my sight before I make you sleep
outside,” she snapped. I took advantage of the opportunity to rush
to my room.

Upon shutting my door, I dropped my bags and
rubbed the small bump on my head, relieved that’s all I walked away
with. I was starving but knew I’d have to suffer through it.

I tried to focus on my homework instead. I
couldn’t concentrate to save my life, staring at the words as they
blurred in front of me. I only faintly recalled the lessons in
class to coincide with the assignments, and my notes were a
scribble of incoherent words. I jumped at the sound of the knock on
the door at ten o’clock - signaling to turn off the lights.

I set the Trigonometry book at the bottom of
my closet, and shut off the lights. I waited in bed until I heard
two sets of footsteps ascend the stairs. I crept breathlessly out
of bed and slipped into the closet, closing the door behind me. My
closet was not very wide, which was fine since I didn’t own a lot
of clothes, but it was tall and deep. I had plenty of clearance to
sit under my clothes without them touching the top of my head.
There was a small door at the back of the closet that led into a
crawl space where I stored the things that meant the most to
me.

That minute space contained the only pictures
I had of my parents and memories of a time that was almost too
distant to remember. It was certainly a universe away from where I
sat now in the confines of a closet. I also stored some of my
favorite paintings and athletic awards, along with a small shoe box
of letters that my mother sent to me after I’d moved in with George
and Carol.

She wrote frequently at the beginning, about
nothing of importance, just rambling on paper. After a while, the
letters arrived further apart; until finally, they stopped coming
altogether about a year and a half ago. I figured she was consumed
with her life and couldn’t bother with me. She had always been
consumed with her life - that’s why I was in this house and not
hers.

I read by the pull-string light bulb
suspended above the closet shelf. I referenced the textbook, trying
to teach myself what I’d neglected to learn in class. By the time I
crept out of my study space, it was after one o’clock in the
morning. I collapsed on bed, never changing from my practice
clothes. Sleep came quickly, but the dreams kept me twisting.

~~~~~

I dragged myself to the bathroom and prepared
for another day with little to look forward to, but got ready all
the same. I intended to walk to the bus stop, but there he was -
relentless. I was determined to keep walking, ignoring his shiny
sports car.

As I walked past him, he stepped out of the
car and pleaded, “Emma, don’t do this.”

My eyes widened in panic as I glanced from
him to the picture window of the house. He saw my look of terror
and glanced to the house as well.

“Then get in,” he demanded. With an
exasperated sigh, I stomped to his car and slid in. He closed his
door and began driving away. I sat stiffly against the leather
seat, with my arms crossed around my backpack and my lips pressed
together, staring straight ahead.

“Are you sulking?”

Insulted, I glared at him. He produced his
amused grin, agitating me more.

“You’re seriously sulking,” he concluded,
almost laughing.

“Stop,” I shot back, attempting to be
serious. But the more I tried, the harder it was, and I felt my
lips curl into a resisted smile. “I am not
sulking
.”

Evan burst out laughing.

“Enough,” I yelled, but found I was
involuntarily smiling.

After he was able to stop laughing , he
became too serious.

“Now you have to tell me what’s going on. Why
are you avoiding me?”

I remained quiet. I struggled for a rational
explanation, so he would respect my decision to cut him out of my
life. I couldn’t come up with anything that would make sense to
him. Everything I wanted to say would reveal too much. He waited
patiently for my response.

“You’re not Sara,” I finally breathed.

“I don’t want to be Sara,” he replied in
confusion. “I still don’t understand.”

“I don’t know how to fit you in my world
without hurting you too.” The truth in my words revealed more than
he’d ever know.

“Don’t worry about hurting me,” he replied
calmly. “I like being a part of your world, and I understand that
it’s more complicated than you’re willing to share with me. But
I’ll respect that, for now.”

He pulled into the parking lot of a drugstore
and put the car in park. Evan seemed nervous as he turned to speak
to me. He released a quick breath before he spoke. My chest
tightened, afraid to hear what he had to say.

“I don’t do this.” His hands gestured between
us. My eyes narrowed, trying to interpret his meaning. He exhaled
and looked out the windshield. “I don’t stay, and I’m used to that.
And I’m always prepared to leave – because I have to
eventually.”

He stopped again, frustrated with himself. I
sat motionless, absolutely convinced I didn’t want him to continue
– but I couldn’t bring myself to ask him to stop.

“I want to stay here,” he finally declared.
“It would bother me if I left. I mean, I’ve already unpacked.”

Evan looked at me with a small, uncertain
smile. We sat silently, looking at each other for an excruciatingly
slow minute – he waited for me to say something. I broke his gaze,
flashing my eyes around the car, searching for the right words.
Disappointed, Evan looked away, his face turning a hue of red
before he continued driving toward the school.

The tension was unbearable in the awkward
silence. I was still struggling to say something that would make
him give up on me; but every time I went to say it, the words were
strangled in my throat. Finally, when he pulled into a parking spot
and shut off the car, I looked over at him and said the only thing
my heart would allow me to say.

“You should stay,” I encouraged, as a smile
crept across my face. Then I quickly added, “But you’ll probably
wish you hadn’t when you finally realize I’m not all that
interesting.” His eyes sparkled and I watched the tension drain
from his face.

As much as I knew it was the right thing to
do, I couldn’t continue to push him away. I searched for a logical
reason to remain friends with him without finding one. It was a
risk having him around, and he could never know the truth - but I
wasn’t ready to give him up.

“Did you really unpack?” I asked skeptically
as we walked into the school.

“Actually I did – the other night after I got
back from dropping you off. I think you guilted me into it.”

I laughed. “So that’s the secret to getting
to you – guilt.”

“There are other ways,” he replied with his
grin.

About to respond to his taunting, I stopped,
realizing where we were. I searched to see if Sara was at her
locker from the end of the hall. I let out a defeated sigh when I
saw that she wasn’t.

“How do I get her to listen to me?” I
murmured, still staring down the hall.

“Maybe you have to make her,” Evan answered
before walking away toward his locker.

Crushed with the acceptance that this was
going to be another day of avoidance, I slowly sauntered to my
locker to prepare for class. I remained hollow, but I was beginning
to accept the emptiness as a part of me.

I was able to listen in class and understand
the lectures. I walked alongside Evan and heard his words, and even
contributed to the conversation. But my eyes still searched for her
in the halls, continuously disappointed when she was too far away,
or if I didn’t see her at all.

I tried to convince myself to give up on her
and accept that I was alone in my truth. That’s when it hit me –
the truth
. I stopped in the middle of the hall with Evan in
mid-sentence. His words faded when he turned back to find me.

“Are you okay?” he asked hesitantly.

“I think I am.” I said each word slowly,
contemplating my epiphany - she
knew
the truth. Evan
appeared worried. I turned my attention to him and grinned.

This did not change his look of concern, but
he didn’t say anything as we continued to Anatomy. Once class let
out, I hurried into the hall, leaving Evan questioning my retreat.
I almost ran to my locker, hoping I’d get there in time. I breathed
an anxious sigh of relief when I found her still putting her books
away in her locker. I moved to intercept her before she could walk
away.

Spotting my approach, Sara attempted to
escape in the opposite direction. Thankfully, she was alone. I
followed after her and before she could exit through the doors
leading to the stairs, I bellowed, “That wasn’t me.”

Sara stopped in her tracks when she heard my
voice but didn’t turn to face me. I caught up with her and stood
behind her, close enough so my words wouldn’t draw attention.

“I know I said some horrible things, Sara,
and I will always be sorry for what I said,” I offered in a rush
before she could change her mind and keep walking. “But
you
know that wasn’t me.”

She turned apprehensively, without
responding.

“Can we please talk?” I begged. She shrugged
and pushed the door open. I followed her down the stairs and out
the side door where she sat on the grass beside the school. She
rested her arms on her bent knees, staring straight ahead without
looking at me.

I slowly sat beside her and let my words
float into the air, in hopes that she’d hear them.

“I’m so, so sorry for what I said to you. I
wasn’t myself, and I hope you know that. I was hurting, and angry,
and unfortunately you were there to receive it. It wasn’t right.
But you know that person is not who I am.”

Sara tilted her head to look over at me, so I
knew she was starting to understand.

“I don’t get angry. It feels horrible, and I
can’t stand to be like that. If I do… If I let her get to me, then
she wins. She destroys me along with everything and everyone who’s
important to me.

“I let her get to me that day. I was consumed
by it. I shouldn’t have said what I did, but I also couldn’t let
you tell anyone. I know how easy it would be to end all of this,
but I can’t. It’s not just my life I have to think about. Taking
Leyla and Jack away from their parents would destroy them, and I
can’t be responsible for that. I’m strong enough to handle this.
They’re still kids, so I have to put up with it for a little while
longer. Do you understand?”

Sara’s eyes brimmed with tears. She looked
away so she could wipe them.

“I know I don’t have any right to ask you to
be there for me. It’s not the ideal friendship to be involved in,
but I know I can get through this if you’re there to help me.
You’re the only one who really knows me, and I trust you. I will
never ask you to lie for me, and I will never make you be a part of
anything you don’t want to. But the thought that you may never talk
to me again hurts worse than anything Carol could ever do to me. I
don’t want to lose you too.”

My heart stammered at the honesty I spilled
at her feet. I had never been this exposed, not even to Sara. I
couldn’t take back the words. I couldn’t hide my vulnerability. I
knew I meant what I said more than any bitter, hurtful word I
spewed in the locker room, and I hoped the truth was enough.

I waited in tense silence. “You haven’t lost
me, Em,” she finally whispered. “You’re right, as much as I don’t
understand it - you’re not an angry person. Sad and withdrawn,
definitely - but not angry; even though you have every right to
be.” She paused.

“I knew you didn’t mean what you said. The
reason I haven’t been able to face you is because
I
get so
angry when I look at you.” I was confused by her confession. “I
hate
this woman for hurting you. It makes me so angry I can
hardly contain myself, and I don’t like feeling angry either. But
you’re right – this is exactly what she wants – to isolate and
destroy anything positive you have. We can’t let that happen. I
know you’re strong enough to do it without me, but I’m not ready to
quit being your friend either.” Her eyes glistened as she offered
me a soft smile.