Barely Breathing (46 page)

Sara laughed harder. "You two kill me. How in the world can that be romantic,
planning
to have sex? Where's the lust and passion?"

"You don't know Evan," I spurted without thinking, then turned crimson when Sara's mouth dropped open. "Okay, what movie are we watching?"

I closed my eyes and listened to the rhythm of her breath from the bed next to me, hoping it would lull me to sleep. Sara inhaled and exhaled in long easy breaths. I could predict the next draw of air. But then it stopped. I waited, but she didn't breathe in again.

I opened my eyes and rolled over onto my back, listening intently. I inhaled quickly when the silhouette appeared next to my bed.

"Sara?" I questioned. "Is something wrong?"

She didn't move. Maybe she was sleepwalking. I propped myself up on my elbows, trying to focus on her and asked again, "Sara?"

When my eyes adjusted to the light, I realized it wasn't her. I kicked my legs to remove the blankets, but the more I kicked, the more tangled they became in the bedding. Then I couldn't see. I'd sunk beneath the blankets and everything was dark. I pushed at the sheets but they sucked in tighter around me. Then she gripped my neck.

I choked and coughed, trying to pull her hands away, but they were too strong. I kicked and shook my head from side to side to get out from under her claws, but it was no use.

"You don't deserve to live," she grunted.

I grabbed onto her wrists and pried them loose, screaming, “You've already killed me!"

My hands were on my throat when I woke. My breath was heavy and my heart was pounding fiercely. The room was dark and I could hear Sara breathing in the bed next to me. I pulled back the blankets and crept out of the room. Sleep and I weren't going to find each other tonight, and there was no point lying there, staring into the dark.

I had my phone in my trembling hand when I sat on the couch in the rec room. I thought about calling Evan, but I knew it would just be another awkward conversation, and I didn't want to go through that twice in one day.

I clicked on the television and turned down the volume so Sara wouldn't hear it. I started scanning the channels and stopped on an infomercial for a microfiber cloth that claimed to be able to clean a car, computer or boat by just adding water,
streak free
. I almost laughed out loud. After a minute of being sucked into the enthusiastic sales pitch, I picked up my phone.

"I saw your infomercial," I said as soon as I heard him pick up.

"Just needs water," he replied, a smile in his voice. "Been wondering how you've been sleeping. Thought you might be cured after all."

"Hardly," I responded. "How about you? Been out on any dates lately?"

"Not yet," he chuckled. "Where are you?"

"At Sara's."

"That's good. You're not going back, are you?"

"No," I replied quietly. "I'm not. Some things aren't fixable."

"I thought when I didn't hear from you that he may have made you stop talking to me."

I was puzzled by his assumption. "Evan's away right now. We haven't had a chance to talk yet."

"Oh," Jonathan replied. "Then, should you be talking to me?"

"Yeah, why not? We're friends," I returned, bewildered. "Evan has girls who are friends too. You're not the reason things are off between us anyway."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Jonathan asked hesitantly.

"No," I whispered.

After a moment of silence, he asked, “Do you want to hang out again?" Then he added quickly, “No cliffs this time."

I laughed. "Sure. We could do something tomorrow if you want. I have practice in the afternoon, but maybe after that."

"Yeah, I should be home from work by six. How about...” he paused for a moment. "How about we get dinner or something? And I kind of have a something to share."

"Really?" I replied, intrigued. "Sure, just text me where to meet you."

"Okay. I'll see you tomorrow." When I hung up, I realized my lips were turned up into a smile and my heart was beating a little faster.

37. Into a Nightmare

"I thought you said you weren't very good," Jonathan teased as we walked out of the pool hall and into the cool drizzly night.

"I'm not," I defended, pulling my hood over my head. "You're just worse than I am."

"Thanks," he shot back with a smirk. "So what next? Do you have to get back to your friend's?"

I checked my phone. Casey had promised to text me when she was on her way home from the party. In case she forgot, which was definitely possible, I sent her a text asking where she was.

"I think she's still at the party," I told him. "Do you mind if I hang out for a while longer?"

"No, you're welcome to stay as long as you'd like," Jonathan assured me. "But I'm not sure what to do that's not a bar."

"I'd like to check out the band you were talking about, if that's okay."

"Oh, yeah, sure," Jonathan fumbled.

"We can do something else if you don't want to go back to your apartment," I offered, his response making me feel a bit awkward.

"No, it's fine. I've honestly never had anyone at my place before. I'm trying to remember if I left it a mess."

"Really? You've
never
had anyone over?" I reiterated in surprise. "Why not?"

Jonathan shrugged. "Umm, I don't really know. I usually meet people out, I guess. But yeah, let's go there." I followed Jonathan across the intersection and down a side street. The reflection of the water shimmered at the end.

"So, Rachel's never been here?"

"No," he stated adamantly. "I needed to take a break every once in a while. But she asked, trust me."

I nodded, imagining her agitation with not knowing where he lived. But I also remembered him disappearing a few days each week, and she probably wouldn't have let that happen if she knew where to find him.

We crossed the street at the end of the road and followed the water toward the marina.

"Why did you stay?" I decided to ask, considering how long he put up with her, and recognizing how often he needed to be away from her.

"Uh, what?" Jonathan questioned in confusion. "You mean with Rachel?"

"You had every right to get out way before you did. What made you stay?"

"I thought we agreed not to talk about her or anything else depressing?" Jonathan avoided, approaching an old white brick building along the wharf.

"You're right," I conceded. I eyed the worn structure warily as Jonathan slid his key in the black metal door.

"Don't judge it by the outside," Jonathan advised. "They completely gutted it." When he opened the door, he flipped on the lights, illuminating a metal grated staircase that led to an opening above.

"I guess they did," I said, admiring the contemporary space at the top of the stairs. White walls stretched about twenty feet to an exposed beam ceiling. An entire wall was lined with brick and mill-sized paned windows that overlooked the water. The floors appeared to be original, but the thick planks were newly varnished. "This place is amazing."

"I was lucky to find it," Jonathan admitted.

I walked over to the small black table set in front of a window to view the few boats rocking on the water below. Across the wharf was a boatyard where more boats awaited warmer temperatures before returning to the seas.

"Want something to drink?" Jonathan offered from the kitchen area of the studio. It was sleek with stainless everything and tall wooden cabinets suspended above a marble countertop.

"No, I'm fine."

Jonathan removed a beer from the fridge and flipped it open. He approached the entertainment unit set on a long black table against the wall. I found a seat on the sofa that sat perpendicular to the kitchen and the windows, lending the perfect view of the entire room. The beige sofa was linear and modern in design, but more comfortable than it appeared.

As I sunk into the cushion, I peered up at an open platform suspended next to the kitchen wall. Metal stairs led to what I assumed to be his bedroom, but it was too high to see at this angle.

His studio was so... clean. I didn't know why he was worried. It was almost
too
clean. That's when it struck me that there wasn't anything in it other than the furniture. No artwork or decor of any kind. Nothing... personal.

"How long have you lived here?" I asked, thinking that maybe he was still working on it.

"Since I graduated," Jonathan revealed, scrolling through his downloads to find the band he’d told me about while we played pool.

"Two years?" I confirmed, scanning the room again.

"Just about," he agreed. Acoustic guitar strums echoed through the room followed by a woman's smooth voice. "I know. It's pretty... minimal. I wouldn't even know how to begin decorating it."

"Don't you have any girl friends who can help you out?"

"I've discovered that having girls as friends just leads to complications. So, no, I don't."

"Complications?" I questioned curiously.

"Yeah. Someone eventually wants more, and it gets...
complicated
," he explained with a shrug before taking a sip of beer.

"Oh," I nodded in contemplation. "Yes, that is true."

"So, you've experienced this?" Jonathan sounded interested as he sat in the chair next to the sofa.

"First hand?" I considered for moment, then continued, "Well, yeah. That's what happened with Evan. We started out as friends, but that didn't take." My cheeks warmed reflecting upon our "friendship".

"I have a feeling you weren't really
friends
, even at the beginning," he noted at the sight of my flushed face.

My cheeks became hotter. "No, probably not. But I do know what you mean. He has a girl right now who's supposed to be a friend, and she definitely has a thing for him. It's, as you said, complicated."

"You don't care that he's friends with other girls, right? I mean, you have me," Jonathan countered.

"No, I don't mind. But you and I are different," I argued. "We're
not
complicated."

Jonathan challenged my words with a raise of his eyebrows. "Right. We're just messed up."

I laughed and nodded. I pushed off my shoes and curled my legs next to me on the couch. My phone beeped, and I pulled it from my pocket.

Still at party. Wanna come? Its a good one.

I grinned at Casey's message and texted back,
No thanks.

"That your friend?" Jonathan confirmed. "Do you have to go?"

"No. She's still at the party."

"Good," he replied, making me look up from my phone. He tipped back the bottle to avoid my curious expression.

"I like this," I said, commenting on the band and letting the comment slide. "They have a nice sound."

"Yeah, it's just a guy and a girl," Jonathan explained. "They're pretty incredible."

Their voices chimed in unison. I was enchanted by their lyrics as we sat quietly, letting them speak for us. I closed my eyes, allowing the music to float through me.

"Emma?" Jonathan called to me. I pulled my lids open, which was harder than I expected. I must have started to doze off. "Are you okay?"

"Sorry." I shook my head and sat up straighter to ward off the bout of sleep. "I'm just tired."

"Really, are you okay?" he asked again, studying my face intently.

I shifted away from his delving brown eyes and nodded. "I haven't been sleeping much."

"Or eating," Jonathan reproached.

I shrugged guiltily. "That obvious?"

"Uh, yeah," he confirmed with an adamant nod.

"It's been a crazy week," I defended feebly.

"That's an understatement," he said with a wry grin. "I know we said we weren't going to talk about it, but we can if you want. I'm really sorry about everything that happened. I still feel like it's my fault."

"It's not," I stressed. "It really had nothing to do with skipping school and spending the day with you. In the end it was about the truth, and I just didn't want to see it."

"What do you mean?"

"She doesn't love me. She never did. There's nothing that's ever going to change that."

Jonathan didn't respond. We were quiet for a moment before he asked, "What about you?" I glanced over at him. His voice was quiet and smooth. "How do you feel about
her
?"

I let his eyes search mine as I considered his question. "I don't know. I always thought I loved her. I mean, she's my mother. But... I don't know."

"What if you didn't think of her as your mother? Just as a person you know. How would you feel about her?" he coaxed.

"That I don't like her," I answered without hesitation. "She seems funny and nice on the outside, but when you get close enough, you realize she's selfish and manipulative, and well, a bit unstable. So I guess... maybe I don't love her either." I lowered my eyes as my words took hold. "Wow. That's messed up."

"Tends to be our unavoidable theme," Jonathan noted with a guilty grin. "Sorry. We can't seem to avoid the depressing, can we?"

"I think it's because we both understand what it's like. It's not easy to talk like this with other people because they don't know. They don't know what it's like to be hated by the people who are supposed to love you." I sunk further into the couch and allowed the sullen mood to settle within me, drawing on my weariness. I thought about leaving, but I just needed to rest for a moment. I laid my head on my arm.

"What is it like?" Jonathan pursued, calling me back to meet his dark eyes. "For you I mean, what's it like?"

I breathed out a humorless laugh and allowed the honesty to slip through. "It makes me stupid."

"What?" Jonathan questioned in alarm. "I don't understand how you can say that."

I focused on a distant light on the water, trying to find the words to explain what was starting to become apparent to me―having thought incessantly about what I did wrong over the past year. I had my mother to thank for clicking it all into place for me with her bouts of drunken candor.

"I close my eyes to the truth. I refuse to see what's happening, convinced that I can handle whatever it is―believing that I'm strong enough and will recognize when I'm not.