Parallel Visions (14 page)

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Authors: Cheryl Rainfield

BOOK: Parallel Visions
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Mom picks her car keys up off the counter and kisses my cheek.

Phone me if your asthma acts up. Do your homework. Your lunch is in the fridge.


I know, I know, ”
I say. I push away my bowl of oatmeal.

I have a lot to catch up on, anyway.


Don ’
t work too hard.

Mom waves to me.

Make sure you rest.

I hear the door close behind her, her key turn in the lock. The house feels still and empty, the way it always does on the days I have to stay home alone. I flick on the radio, turning the volume down. The background noise makes me feel less lonely.

I should start my homework, but nothing feels drearier first thing in the morning. But if I don ’
t start it, it ’
ll weigh on me until I do. I sigh and get my books, laying them out on the kitchen table.

I

ve only gotten through a page of math problems before I feel my chest tighten.

Crap. I am
not going to have another attack. Mom is right; I ’
ve had too many lately. I log on to the weather channel and check the stats for today. The air quality is bad enough to trigger an attack if I ’
m not careful.

I scrape my chair back and get my inhaler, taking two puffs. Sometimes that can prevent an attack if I catch it early enough. Deep, slow breaths, I tell myself. But my chest gets tighter, the pain increasing, and then I am gasping for air, my throat narrowing. My vision blurs and I don ’
t try to stop it; I need to know how to help Jenna.

 

Mason caresses Jenna ’
s cheek.

Kate sure has a lot of asthma attacks.


Yes. She always has, ever since she was a baby.


That sucks. What sets it off?

Jenna rolls her eyes.

Everything.

Mason laughs, then tips his beer bottle back, taking a swallow.

No, seriously.


Since when do you care?

Mason leans forward and squeezes the back of her neck, his huge hand almost engulfing her.

You are really screwed up about your sister, you know that? I just mention her name and you can ’
t think straight.

His hand moves to the front of her throat, smoothing her skin, stroking it.

Tell me what sets her off.

Jenna swallows.

Anything that irritates her lungs. Cigarettes are really bad. And pollen. Air pollution. Aerosol sprays. Strong cleaners. That ’
s why Mom tells you not to smoke even outside the house. Kate is really sensitive.

 

I don

t like Mason asking about my asthma. It can ’
t be a good thing. I hang on to the edge of the chair as I gasp, then take another puff from my inhaler.

 

Mason lets Jenna go and takes another sip of his beer.

If she has a really bad attack, can she die?


Yeah. She almost did a few times. It ’
s really scary.


I ’
ll bet it is.

Mason nuzzles her neck.

Jenna swats him.

Why are you asking all this, anyway?


Because I love you, babe.

Jenna pushes him away.

You ’
re not still mad at her? She said she wasn ’
t the one who called the cops.

Mason grips Jenna ’
s wrist so tight she winces.

Who else would it be? Unless it was you.


You know I would never do that to you. It hurt us both, your being arrested.


Right.

Mason takes another swallow of his beer.

That ’
s right.

 

I bend over, gasping, my heart slamming against my ribs. Mason ’
s coming after me. At least, I think he is.

I pick up my cell, my finger hovering over the speed dial for Mom. But what would I tell her? Mason ’
s going to try to kill me, make it look like it was just my asthma? She ’
d never believe me. I ’
m not sure I believe myself. It sounds crazy.

I call Gil instead.


Kate, where are you?

he whispers.

I didn ’
t see you in the parking lot or homeroom.


I ’
m at home. Gil—I just saw Mason asking Jenna what triggers my asthma. I think he ’
s going to try to kill me.

It sounds melodramatic, even as I say it. But I can ’
t shake the idea out of my head.


I ’
ll be right there.


I don ’
t know when it ’
s going to happen.
If it ’
s going to happen. It might be nothing.

But I don ’
t really believe that.


I don ’
t care. I ’
ll be right over. Lock all the doors.

He hangs up.

I go around the house, making sure all the windows are fastened, the blinds drawn, both doors are locked. I ’
m probably making too much of this. I don ’
t even know if he ’
ll come. But I don ’
t feel safe anymore. I pace the house, trying to breathe slowly, to not let my anxiety increase, not let it spark another attack. I take another puff of my inhaler just to be sure, even though I ’
m breathing easier, now.

I pace as I wait for Gil, worried but wondering at the same time if I ’
m overreacting .
But if I ’
m right…

I stop. Jenna still has a key to the house. What ’
s to prevent Mason from taking it? I run for the door. My cell rings, but I don ’
t want to take the time to answer it.

My hand is on the doorknob when I hear a key turn in the lock. The knob turns beneath my hand.

 

THIRTEEN

Mason stands there in the doorway, filling the space with his bulk, blocking out the sunlight. He puffs on a cigarette, blowing smoke into my face.

I cough and back up.


Where are you going, little sister-in-law?

he asks around his cigarette.

You ’
re supposed to stay home to take care of those pesky lungs of yours.

How does he know that? Did he hijack my cell, too? My skin prickles. I ’
ve got to get away from him.

Get out of my way.

I cough.

My cell rings again.


No can do.

I back up a step and Mason follows me, the leather pouch hanging from his shoulder bouncing against his hip.


Sorry, you ’
re not going anywhere, ”
he says.

I

m breathing in smoke. My lungs clench and I start to wheeze. I ’
ve got to get outside.

I can

t get through the door with him so close to it. I take another step back, the floor creaking. Mason follows me. I dart around him, but he grabs my arm and yanks me back. I turn and punch his gut, but he just swats my fist away, then slams the door closed. The click of the bolt snapping shut echoes in my ears.

My heart beats so loudly it sounds like thunder. I bite Mason ’
s arm as he holds onto me.

Mason swears and presses his face close to mine, blowing smoke at me.

Let ’
s get one thing straight, Kate. I don ’
t take kindly to people messing with my wife.


I didn ’
t call the police, ”
I say, coughing as I struggle to get away.


Yeah. Like I believe that.

Mason grips my arm harder and drags me to the kitchen. I yank back and try to walk the other way, but he doesn ’
t stop. He shoves me down into one of our kitchen chairs, whips out a roll of silver duct tape, and tapes me to the chair, my chest heaving.


What are you doing?

I ask, my voice shaking.

No one will ever believe this was an accident.

Slowly, Mason takes a pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket, shakes out a cigarette, takes out the lighter, and lights it. He jams the smoking cigarette into my unfinished oatmeal so it stands like a stick of incense, spewing smoke.

That ’
s the trouble with you educated chicks. You think you ’
re smarter than the rest of us. All I gotta do is cut you loose when I ’
m done, air the place out, and no one will know the difference. Or maybe I saw you with a friend who was smoking—that boy you like. Then it ’
ll all be on him.


No!

My lungs spasm. I cough harder, my legs trembling, knees bouncing up and down. Mason lights another cigarette, then another, stuffing them upright into the oatmeal. The room grows hazy and dots jitter in front of my eyes.

 

Jenna scrambles for her purse, panting, and punches a number into her cell.

Come on, Kate, pick up!

She hails a taxi.

Please let me be wrong, ”
she keeps saying to herself on the whole ride over. Jenna bursts through our front door and runs into the kitchen to find me taped to the chair, head hanging, chest still.


What did you do?

she screams at Mason.

You murderer!

 

I cough in between wheezes. I ’
m not ready to die. I think I might love Gil. I want to kiss him again, spend more time with him. I want to mend my relationship with Jenna, see her smile at me again. I shudder and heave, straining against the tape. I want Mom and Dad to believe my visions. Want to feel their hugs, hear their laughter. I want to go to college. Maybe even have kids someday. I want to live .

Gil

s nana flashes through my head. Her dry hands holding mine, her voice intense as she tells me to remember the people I love. I pull Mom ’
s face to me, then Dad ’
s and Jenna ’
s and Gil ’
s. I think of how much I love and need them. I see their smiles, the love in their eyes, and their love fills me, strengthening me. I feel my lungs expand.

I have to hang on for them. I will hang on—for them and for myself.

Mason relights one of the cigarettes that went out. Then he takes an aerosol can out of his bag, shakes it, and sprays it around the room, the mist like heavy fog.

Having a little trouble breathing?

he says with a grin.


Don ’
t do this!

I cough. My chest is so heavy and tight I can barely suck in the smoky, chemical-laden air.

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