Breathe for Me (16 page)

“Did you get started on our poetry assignment last night?” Dominic asks me, popping the can open and taking a big swig.

I shoot him a guilty look. “A little bit, but I got distracted and put it down. I'll do more tonight before the party, I promise.”

“Okay.” With his free hand he rubs my back, sending delicious tingles across my skin as the strength of his fingers seeps through the fabric.

Samantha shoots another sly glance at us, then checks her phone. “Oh, lookie here. I need to get running to go…do…things.” She winks at me, and it's not subtle at all. A heated flush sprawls across my cheeks. “You two behave. Don't get pregnant, now.”

My jaw drops. I swat at her. “Hilarious.”

Dominic chuckles. “I don't think that's going to be a problem.”

Samantha leans in close to me and whispers, “Tell me all about it later,
please
. Call me after the party. I want details.” Then she waggles her fingers at us, picking up her belongings. “See you guys.”

I watch her go, a bittersweet tinge in my chest. She has no real idea about all the turmoil I'm going through, because I've kept it a secret. One that's been weighing me down like a boulder tied to my feet. What kind of a friend am I?

If I fail, if Sitri takes me away, she's going to be so hurt by my disappearance. Should I tell her, just in case? Vanishing on her is cruel and unfair. And lying to her, telling her I'm suddenly moving—out of nowhere, with no real notice—leaves a sour taste in my mouth. I don't want to lie to anyone any longer, especially to her.

And if I succeed, how will I explain to her that suddenly I'm not “sick” anymore, that I don't have to cover up? She'll feel betrayed.

I'm tired of pretending there's something wrong with me. She's my best friend. If I can trust the truth with Dominic, I need to have faith and trust in her too.

She's earned that.

“You okay?” Dominic asks quietly. “You have a worried look on your face.”

I turn my attention back to him. “Sorry. I'm just…wrestling with some things.”

“She doesn't know, does she?” His eyes are gentle, his words soft.

I shake my head. “I never could figure out how to tell her without sounding like I'm crazy.”

He gives me a wry smile. “It does sound a little farfetched. But she deserves to know, don't you think?”

“She does. But I'm scared. What if she rejects me when she finds out? What if she's afraid, or thinks I'm messed up or crazy or lying?” I reach over and grip his fingers.

“You trusted me with your secret, and I'm still here. If she rejects you because of it, she wasn't as good of a friend as you thought she was.”

I nod, trying to accept the rationality in his words. He's right, of course.

“Look at me.”

I do so.

His eyes pierce me. “You're braver than you know. It took a lot for you to tell me your secret. And yet, here I am. We're going to get through this. We'll figure it out somehow, I promise.”

I love you
.

The words are right there on the tip of my tongue, and they fight their way out of my mouth. It takes everything I have to not say them. I can't push. I can't rush. But I let the feeling take over me, swell me with this tidal wave of happiness.

This one perfect moment.

He smiles. It's crooked, darling, endearing. He feels my sentiments, even if I can't say them.

He gives me strength to do the right thing. I can tell her.

I
will
tell her.

chapter twelve

D
ID
I
CHOOSE
THE
right outfit to wear? Nervousness flutters in my stomach, and I can't seem to push it aside. I smooth the front of my thin black long-sleeved shirt down for the third time since getting out of the car and cast a quick glance at my plaid skirt and black tights.

“You sure you want to be here?” I ask Dominic. “If you don't—”

“Let's just go in before we talk ourselves out of it,” he tells me lightly as he rings the doorbell. He gives my hand a quick, comforting squeeze.

I study the exterior of the sprawling brick house a little closer, trying to divert my attention from my shaky nerves. Alexis's home is huge—three stories, brown brick facing, lots of windows and a pristinely manicured front lawn. I had no idea she was so well-off. Or that her parents were, anyway.

A throbbing bass gets louder as the door is flung open. Alexis, wearing a tight T-shirt and tiny denim skirt, beams broadly. “Wow! You're here, and you look so cute! I didn't know if you'd show or not. Come in, come in.” With her free hand she waves us inside, careful not to splash the drink in her plastic blue cup.

I hand over the two-liter of Coke I brought (I figured it would be rude to show up empty-handed—old-fashioned, I'm sure) and follow her in, Dominic close behind me. The coolness in the room from their central air feels good.

“Beverages in the kitchen, along with snacks. Help yourself to anything you want and make yourself at home—” she pauses, winks, “—but I'm strongly encouraging everyone to stay out of the bedrooms.”

I swallow and turn my attention to the living room. It's massive and decorated in cream tones. Every spare piece of furniture is filled up with teens, laughing and drinking and kissing. “Your house is so pretty.”

She laughs. “Thanks. My parents have a fetish for off-white. Anyway, there's a pool in the backyard and plenty of room to chill. Oh, there's Becky—sorry, gotta talk to her for a sec.” With that, she slips back into the crowd.

I edge away from the crowd, making sure to maintain a safe distance. Luckily people aren't being rowdy, so I should be fine.

Dominic sidles up to me. “Where to?”

“Let's go outside.”

He nods as he peers toward the kitchen, where more people spill in and out. “Sounds good. I'll get us some drinks. Looks a little crowded in there, so you snag us space in the back yard, okay?”

Somehow I manage to weave between people, getting a few acknowledging nods from some I recognize, and make my way toward the back of the house. I slide the French doors open and head outside.

The warm, balmy air hits me quickly, and once I slide the doors closed the music from inside fades. Outside there's a large crowd around the pool, with lots of teens milling about. I slip along the edge of the fence and make my way toward the back, where only a couple of people wander around.

There's a nice patch of grass over here. I sit down and stare up at the night sky. Hundreds of stars twinkle down on me. I'm overcome by a sudden feeling of peace; it's almost like Jane's right here with me, congratulating me for coming to the party. This feels good. This feels right.

The light sound of girls giggling reaches me, and I smile, then dig my phone out of my pocket. I shoot Samantha a quick text to tell her I'm at the party and I hope dinner goes well, then turn it off, breathing deeply. There's something about the air here that makes me feel like I'm…home.

In quiet times, when I'm lying in bed about to fall asleep, I think about my life. About all those holes, the missing pieces. What other cities have I gone to? Did I love them too, and find friends to fill that empty void in my heart? Have I ever connected with a place so perfectly that I was willing to sacrifice everything to stay, like I have with this city?

Sitri's never said a word about it. He actually seemed surprised I'd want to give up his “gift” and become a regular human again. Maybe I never connected with anyone before. The thought makes me sad.

“This is perfect,” Dominic says. He hands me a plastic cup. In the dark, his hair has a pale glow cast about the crown. His eyes are shaded, but everything about his body is calm and soothing.

I take a sip. It's the soda I brought. The crisp bubbles cool my mouth. “Thanks,” I say with a smile.

He takes a drink out of his cup then lies back on the grass, folding his arms behind his head. His torso lengthens tightly, the lean muscle evident through his T-shirt. “I want to know more about you,” he says.

I stretch out in similar fashion, finding a comfortable spot beside him and looking up toward the heavens. It feels right to share this moment, this memory with him. A layering of the past and present. “Like what?”

The stars twinkle down on us, bright pinholes of light in the black sky. The moon is still thick but starting to wane.

“Like, everything.” He's quiet for a moment. “Okay, let's start with, what time period are you from?”

I blink. “Um, late fifteen hundreds.”

He huffs in surprise. “So hard to believe,” he murmurs. “Must be a culture shock for you, being here in New Orleans. Do you have to relearn how to use technology each time you…move?”

“No,” I say, thoughtful. “It's like when a person gets amnesia. I remember how to use things and keep up with technology and scientific advances, but I don't remember specific people or situations.”

“Hm. What's your first memory?”

“Wow, good question.” I search my mind, wheeling time back as far as I can, skipping past all the black patches to my early childhood. “I remember being around five years old and wearing a mask. I was looking through two eyeholes. My family and I were at some kind of festival, I think.” I vaguely recall the strong scent of meat permeating the air, the bustle of the crowd as they laughed and drank. My mother and father dancing and clapping to the music. Jane and I clutching dirty hands, swinging in circles and giggling over the widened flow of our skirts. “You?”

“Hmm.” He pauses. “I was on an airplane. My parents liked to travel a lot when I was younger. I don't quite remember where we were going, but my brother continued to shove me away from him so he could take both armrests.” He chuckles. “Jack never was very good at sharing.”

“How old is he?”

“Nineteen. He's going to Tulane. Studying pre-med—he wants to be a pediatric surgeon. He's very smart.” Dominic turns on his side to face me. “Do you—did you—uh, did you have any brothers or sisters?”

“One,” I say quickly, not commenting on his awkward phrasing. “A younger sister, Jane.”

“I bet you miss her.”

“Every day. And I feel…” I swallow and shove back the surge of emotion. “I feel guilty for not getting to say goodbye. We were really close, and when I left I know it hurt her. I left her all alone.”

He's silent for a moment. “Well, why not do it?”

“Do what?”

“Tell her goodbye. Some people believe if you write down a thought or a wish on a piece of paper and then burn it, it sends that message out to the universe.”

A promising way for me to spill all these feelings out to her in a safe way, to unburden myself. Definitely worth trying. “I will. Thank you for the idea. Do you and your brother get along well?”

Out of the corner of my eye I see him shrug. “Sometimes, but we're really different. For example, I'm not sure what I want to be yet. He's had his life mapped out since he was twelve. What do
you
want to be?”

“Free.” The words, the thought, the dream spill from me so fast. I turn to face him, stare into his endless gaze, the thick night's shadows caressing his face the way I wish I could. “Dominic, I need to be honest with you.”
Courage
. “I don't have much time left until… Well, I have a plan. A tentative one. But if it doesn't work, I won't be here for long—Sitri can take me anytime he wants.”

“I can't let you go,” he whispers, his voice strangely tight. He reaches out, brushes a curl away from my face.

“I—”
love you
“—can't let you go, either.”

“Well, well, well. What's going on here?” A guy's teasing voice behind me interrupts our conversation. I turn onto my back to see who it is. I don't know him, but I've seen him around school. His thick blond hair is spiked on top, and he's wearing a super-tight red T-shirt and low-slung jeans.

Dominic nods, sits up. “Hey, Paul. What's going on?”

“You have to come hang at the pool,” Paul says. He waves his hand around, which sloshes the drink from his cup into small splatters on the grass. “They're doing cannonballs. I'm about to jump in.”

“Nah, go ahead,” Dominic says. “I'm gonna hang with Isabel for a while.”

“It's okay if you want to go,” I tell him. It's selfish of me to monopolize his time. We
are
at a party, after all. He probably wants to mingle.

Dominic shakes his head. “I'm good, thanks.”

Paul salutes us. “Have fun, you two.”

When he leaves, I ask, “Are you sure? I don't mind, you know. You can go hang out with other people. I bet that pool is nice and refreshing,” I tease.

“There isn't anywhere else I want to be right now, other than here with you.” His smile draws me in, warms my heart. “Isabel, I know you're scared. But I promise you, we're going to beat this curse.”

I reach out, squeeze his hand.

He pulls me against him and lies back, carefully arranging me to rest on his chest so I don't touch his skin. With a gentle touch, he strokes the back of my curls. “I love your hair,” he says. “It's wild.”

“I can't get it to behave,” I say. “These curls are determined to do what they want.” His heart is a steady
thump-thump
under his chest. I draw him into my senses, trace nonsensical patterns across his chest and stomach with the tips of my fingers.

“What's your favorite food?” Dominic asks, getting us back to our original topic. “Mine's crawfish etouffee. My grandpa's was out of this world.”

“Mine's simple—lasagna.” I pause and twist my face to look up at him. “How's he doing, anyway?”

Dominic sighs. “Not well. He's on a lot of pain meds. The cancer's eating away at him. It's hard seeing him like this. He was so strong when I was a kid. Would pick me up and sling me over his shoulder like I was a stuffed animal. I thought he was invincible.” His heart rate increases beneath my ear. “I think he's going to die soon.”