Out of Breath (Exposed Series Book 2) (5 page)

Regardless, the place looked great. And it was so Carol. There wasn’t
a weed in sight.

No wonder she didn’t know how to talk to Kate about her
problems. Carol didn’t understand what it was like to feel out of control. Not
as a result of her brain function and certainly not as a result of chemical
substances. Kate’s problems were foreign territory to her.

And she wasn’t creative or confident enough to think for
herself. So if there wasn’t a book, an episode of Dr.Phil, or a Mommy vlog that
could help her, she was hopeless.

Not like me, the fuck-wad-screw-up sister. After all, I’d spent
my whole life making questionable choices and dealing with the consequences.
That’s what made me a good counselor. It’s also why I preferred the company of
troubled individuals to the company of people like my sister.

I never understood people like Carol, people who saw the world
as easily navigable and good decision making as black and white. And sensible
people like her were on the opposite end of the spectrum to teenagers.
Especially teenage girls, who experienced the world and their feelings in
either high definition color or sepia.

Which put her at a disadvantage when it came to connecting with
Kate. Because, except for the years she struggled with fertility, Carol had
never been an outsider. She didn't know what it felt like to be a minority of
any kind.

Her life had been mostly sugarcoated. Kind of like my parent's.

They were high school sweethearts and best friends. They lived a
loving- though not particularly exciting- life. My Mother loved everything
about being a mom. Except for the obligatory socializing she had to do with our
friends' parents. She was shy. Private. Nowadays, she’d probably be diagnosed
with some sort of social anxiety disorder. But she wasn’t unhappy. She
dedicated her whole life to my Dad and vice versa.

It was their consecutive wakes that were the reason for my last
two visits to Carol’s house. Five and five and a half years ago. My Dad didn’t
even pretend he wanted to stick around after my Mom died. If it had been up to
him, they would’ve had a joint funeral.

As I made my way up the path to the front door, I felt a wave of
guilt that I'd never bothered to learn the names of flowers. And now it was too
late. Then I remembered that I hadn’t driven out there to make myself feel bad.
I did it so I could pick up some things for Kate as a favor to her, her Mother,
and me.

Carol had offered to drop Kate’s things off at my apartment, but
I declined. I would rather go to her place. That way I could leave on my terms.
Plus, I knew she thought my small apartment was sad and lonely without a man in
it. Or at least she made the mistake of saying that once. To which I replied
that
nothing made me feel lonelier or more depressed than the idea of
getting fucked by a single penis for the rest of my life
and
that it was
actually quite spacious without her fat ass taking up so much room
.

Which didn’t have as much impact as I’d hoped because she’s not
even fat. Because getting fat would mean getting out of control. And I still
haven’t been able to erase the memory of her dragging her finger along my
mantle and asking me if I’d heard of Swiffer. Ugh.

I knew we pushed each other away like this on purpose. We hadn’t
always been ugly to each other. But at this point, it was just easier for
everyone to continue in the direction we were already going. After all, we were
both fine left to our own devices.

I rang her door bell and resisted the urge to check myself out
in the spotless glass of her front door for fear that she would catch me. She
always pitied my vanity. Which was annoying. Almost as annoying as the fact
that she hadn’t had a pimple since sixth grade.

“Dawn.”

“Hi Carol,” I said, stepping inside.

We hugged without pressing against each other.

“Thanks for coming to get her things,” she said, dropping her
eyes for a moment. “And for letting her stay with you.”

“Of course.”

“Despite, you know, our-”

“It’s no problem,” I said. “Are her things…” I looked around.

“Just upstairs,” she said. Carol looked down at my shoes and
started up the steps.

I took the hint, kicked off my boots, and followed her upstairs
to Kate’s room.

It was a typical teenage girls’ room. Cluttered. Over-decorated.
Like the mind of a child-woman turned inside out and smeared on the wall. There
was a poster of a heavily styled boy band on one wall. The nearby desk had a
snow globe with Tinkerbell inside it next to a palette of eye shadow the size
of a dessert plate.

The opposite wall featured a corkboard littered with pink and
purple pushpins. Every inch of it was covered with pictures of her lacrosse
team, her friends at school dances, honor roll certificates, and movie ticket
stubs. It was all weirdly familiar. Except for a random bumper sticker of a
greyhound on top of the letter L.

At the end of the bed, a suitcase lay open and almost full.

I watched as Carol folded things from a laundry basket and put
them in the suitcase. But I couldn’t help but notice that she seemed heavy all
of a sudden.

I walked over and put my hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

She sniffled. “Yeah, I just wish she could stay here. I hate
feeling like she’s better off somewhere else.”

“I know.”

“And I know it sounds awful, but I hate feeling like
you
can help her and I can’t.”

“It’s okay. It’s only temporary.”

“But what if you guys really hit it off and she decides she’s
happier with you and never wants to come home-“

“It won’t matter,” I said. “It’s only temporary.”

“How do you know?” She sat on the edge of the bed, wringing one
of Kate’s tank tops in her hands. “How am I supposed to believe we can ever be
okay again? After all the lies? And her knowing we talked about sending her
away?”

“Because you love each other,” I said, sitting down next to her.
“And that isn’t going to change. She just needs some time in a different
environment so she can focus on taking better care of herself.”

“What if she wants you to take her to school in the fall?” Her
shoulders dropped, dragging her face down with them. “You’re so much more fun
than me.”

I shrugged. “That can’t be helped.”

She forced a smile.

“And of course you’ll be the one to take her to school.”

Carol shook her head. “If she wanted you to, I guess I would try
to underst-”

“Carol. It’s not even an option. I won’t be around to take her
to school.”

“Why? Where are you going?”

I sighed. I didn’t want to tell her. She had enough to worry
about. But I knew if the situation were reversed, I would absolutely want to
know.

She looked back and forth between my eyes.

I reached out and took her closest hand between my palms.
“Carol.” I cleared my throat. “I’m dying.”

“What?”

“I have lung cancer.” I swallowed. “And it’s inoperable.”

Her eyes started to water. “But you can’t…you’re-”

“I only have a few months. And I don’t want to spend them
undergoing treatments that will only prolong what would become a very poor
quality of life for me.”

I knew she was stunned because her mouth was hanging open and
she hated when other people did that.

“I want to spend them with Kate.”

She nodded.

“Okay?”

She shook her head and her whole face scrunched up like a prune.
“Not okay” was all she managed to say before she burst into tears and threw her
arms around me.

I knew it was only the element of surprise that caused her to
express her emotions that way.

I knew after a few minutes she would decide that she should be the
one comforting me. At which point she would go back to being in control again. Then
she would say all the right things, read all the right books, and ask all the
right questions. Her support would be exemplary.

Like it always had been when I needed her.

But after all the months I’d spent worrying about how she would
respond to the news and trying to convince myself I shouldn’t tell her, it was
a relief to discover she cared so much.

And I could tell by how hard she was squeezing me that even if
she knew all the awful things I’d thought about her over the years, she
wouldn’t have hugged me any less tight.

Dawn was home a lot. I guess she was taking a break from work
for a while. Which seemed odd, but I was just grateful to be there so I didn’t
ask questions. To be honest, I liked that she was around so much. It made me
feel like purging wasn’t an option. Which made it easier to stop myself from
binging in the first place.

I mean, there was one night where I kind of lost it and stuffed
myself until it hurt at the pizza party after the Catholic League Championship.
But when I got home, I couldn’t do shit about it. Dawn’s bathroom was in the
middle of her apartment and the shower was too small to bend over in.

So even though I was still having those “trigger” feelings,
like, all the time, at least I started to recognize them for what they were.
Which made it a little easier to cope. Sure, I was smoking a lot more pot, but
that had to be better for me than abusing myself with food. It certainly felt
better.

Of course, the best part about staying with Dawn was that I
didn’t have to worry about driving when I was going out. I could take the train
straight to Annie’s. Which was great because most of the parties we went to
were in her neighborhood anyway.

That night’s party was no different. We were going to this guy
Tim’s house. I wasn’t really friends with him directly, but Danielle knew him
from grade school. Plus, we were girls. Drunk girls. That basically made us the
guests of honor.

I took a few shots of vodka and then a few more at which point I
could feel the cool liquid coating my stomach. By the time we got to the party,
I could feel the heat coming off my cheeks.

I felt great for about an hour into the party. Then I started to
get sloppy. Like, planning how to get from point A to point B across a room
sloppy. Of course, right when I was thinking maybe I’d drink Sprite without
vodka in it for a few minutes, Ian invited me to be his beer pong partner.

Which was a huge deal. It was the equivalent of him standing on
the table and saying
I like this girl so much that I'd rather have her on my
team than win this round of beer pong and my right to play the next round.

It was pretty gallant of him. I mean, that kind of thing just
didn’t happen. Girls were usually only welcome near the beer pong table to do
one of three things: refill beers, go after stray balls, and try to distract
the other team.

It made me think that maybe we weren’t just using each other.
Maybe he actually liked me and wanted to spend time with me. Or maybe he just
wanted to run his hand across my lower back and my ass and have me blow on his
balls for good luck in front of people. Whatever it was, I was flattered.

So I did my best despite the fact that I could see twice as many
cups and balls as everyone else. And I even managed to get one in at a crucial
moment, tying us up with the other team. But in the end, Ian just couldn’t
carry us through to victory. Of course, he wasn’t mad that I’d blown our
chances because he expected it to happen. Still, it was fun to get to play for
a change.

I was surprised how much drunker I felt after drinking my half
of our cups of beer. But I was even more surprised that instead of going from
sloppy drunk mode to napping mode, I was feeling kind of horny. Maybe it was
because Ian was really touchy-feely during the game. Or maybe it was because of
how hot he looked in his lacrosse jacket. All I knew was that I wanted him to
suck my tongue right out of my mouth.

We found an empty room upstairs. It must’ve been the master
bedroom. It had that typical parent’s room vibe: big cushy bedspread, open
spaces, an odd lack of personal effects, and a big TV.

I followed him inside and closed the door behind me.

“Sorry we didn’t win the game,” I said.

He slipped his hands under my shirt and slid them around my
waist. “We didn’t?” He smiled. “It sure feels like we won.”

My lips were already parted when he pressed his mouth against
mine. My insides started to churn as I walked backwards towards the big bed.
First he pulled my shirt off. Then I unzipped my skirt, let it fall to my ankles,
and stepped backwards out of it. He followed my lead, pulling his shirt off and
wriggling out of his pants as we moved across the room.

When the back of my legs touched the bed, I fell onto my back
and scooted up towards the pillows. Ian crawled after me, pinned me down, and
started kissing me again. We writhed against each other, and I felt a gush in
my underwear as I pressed my hips up against him. He was so excited he groped
my boobs over my bra. I doubted that was any more enjoyable for him than it was
for me, but I went with it.