Reason to Breathe (16 page)

Sara pulled me off the ground, screaming. She
embraced me while jumping excitedly. I was greeted with additional
cheers and jumping. I raised my arms in the air in celebration of
the score as I ran back to mid-field to prepare for the kick off. I
was soaring, filled with the rush I sought from the game. The
remaining time ran down without another goal.

At the sound of the long whistle concluding
the game, the team ran out to the center of the field, hollering
and jumping in celebration. When I looked around, I realized there
was more than just our team on the field, as many of the spectators
had come down from the stands to congratulate us. I received pats
on the back from people I recognized and many that I didn’t. It was
a whirlwind of faces, cheers and hands. I was coming down from the
high and decided I needed to remove myself from the chaos.

I told Sara I’d meet her in the locker room.
She promised she’d be right behind me. I slipped away from the
crowd and jogged to the school. As I approached the stairs, I saw a
tall silhouette leaning against the building.

“Congratulations,” the smooth voice said from
the dark shadows.

“Thanks,” I replied, slowing to a walk as I
approached the figure. Evan stood with his hands in his pockets,
waiting for me.

“That was an impressive goal.”

I smiled, accepting the recognition, while my
cheeks warmed.

“Do you want me to wait here for you while
you change?” I stopped, not prepared for the question.

“You don’t have to wait,” I said slowly.

“I was hoping to drive you home.” My stomach
fell at the thought of him pulling up to my house. I didn’t
anticipate Carol and George waiting to greet me, but I knew she
didn’t sleep until I was locked within the house. The last thing I
wanted was for her to look out of her bedroom window to see Evan’s
sleek black car letting me out. It would be a morning I’d never
live down.

“Thanks,” I replied sincerely, “but I haven’t
seen Sara all day. I promised to ride home with her.”

“Okay.” He sounded disappointed, which kinda
surprised me.

After a second, I awkwardly added, “I had a
good time today. Thank you for dinner.”

“Me too,” he agreed, without the awkwardness.
“I’ll see you on Sunday then?”

“Yeah.”

Evan flashed a quick grin before walking back
toward the field. He met up with a few guys from the soccer team
and was immediately conversing. By this time, Sara was jogging
toward me - her mud blotched face unable to conceal her enormous
white smile. She greeted me with an enthusiastic tight hug.

“I loved that game!” she exclaimed.

“Yeah,” I exhaled. “Sara, I ... can’t …
breathe.”

“Sorry,” she said, releasing me. “But that
game was fuckin’ awesome.” She was bouncing in her skin and could
barely stand still.

“Yeah, it was,” I agreed, but my energy was
nowhere near the level of Sara’s. “Let’s get changed. I’m tired and
am ready to crash.”

“Don’t think I’m letting you get out of my
car without providing details,” she added. I groaned. “You two
looked really comfortable sitting next to each other tonight. Are
you sure you’re still
just friends
?”

“Sara,” I stressed, my voice raising an
octave higher than normal, “I didn’t even talk to him the whole
time he sat next to us.” She laughed, and I realized she was
playing with me. I shook my head with an accepting smirk. “You’re
such a jerk.”

After showering, Sara drove me home, and I
provided her with the details she sought regarding my afternoon
with Evan. I even told her about his confusing comments, and to my
dismay, Sara laughed.

Then she proceeded to catch me up on her
situation with Jason. Sara was still enthralled with him, which was
good to hear, but seemed flustered that he’d barely kissed her.
Sara wasn’t exactly shy when it came to getting
to know
guys. I was hoping she’d finally found a guy that respected her,
but instead she was wondering what she was doing wrong.

We pulled up in front of my house. I looked
out the car window at the grey Cape. The dark windows didn’t reveal
any movement inside. I took a deep breath and said goodnight to
Sara before exiting the car.

I dragged my feet along the unlit driveway to
the back of the house. When I turned the handle of the back door, I
was met with resistance - it didn’t move. The door was locked. My
stomach dropped.

Sara had already driven away. There was no
way I was going to knock, since they made the conscious decision to
lock the door, knowing I wasn’t home. My mind raced to try to think
of what I possibly could have done wrong to get locked out of the
house. My pulse quickened, wondering how much trouble I was in,
fearing the worst.

I cupped my hands to the glass to look
inside. My reflection shielded me from seeing into the kitchen.
Then the reflection smirked and the eyes squinted into a glare. I
jumped back, realizing I was staring at
her
. I remained
frozen, not sure what to do next, waiting for her to make a move.
But the darkness remained still.

A light illuminated the kitchen. I expected
to find Carol glowering at me, but the kitchen was empty until
George appeared from the dining room where he’d turned on the
light. I scrunched my eyes in confusion – questioning if I had
really seen Carol. George opened the door with his lips pressed in
a tight scowl.

“You’re supposed to be home before ten
o’clock,” he reprimanded.

“I had a game tonight,” I said softly,
confused by his reaction.

“That doesn’t matter. Your curfew is ten
o’clock. If you can’t get home in time, then maybe you shouldn’t
participate in the night games.” His voice was unsympathetic, and
his eyes were hard. I knew there was no point in arguing. If I did,
he could take soccer away altogether, and I wouldn’t risk that.

“Okay,” I whispered. I slipped by him and
went to my room without another word.

“I would have left you in the cold,” hissed
through the dark as I passed the living room. I took in a quick
startled breath. I continued to my room, quickly closing the door
behind me, fearing what awaited me in the dark if I paused to
look.

11.
The Library

I
was bent over, with my head in the refrigerator, wiping the back
wall when the air expelled from my lungs and I gasped in pain. I
groaned, the force knocking me to the floor. I collapsed onto my
side, cradling my stomach. My eyes filled with tears as I tried to
gulp in air.

I pulled myself into a ball, not sure if
another blow would follow. Carol stood over me with Jack’s aluminum
baseball bat in her hand. She glared at me with a tight smirk as I
tried to shrink against the refrigerator.

“You are not important. Nothing you do is
important. Don’t think that you will ever amount to anything more
than the whore that you are.” She walked away.

My quick gasps slowed as the air came back in
easy breaths. Shaking, I pushed myself off the floor and wiped the
tears from my face. I winced when I stood, holding my stomach.
Without thought, I replaced the contents of the refrigerator before
walking to the bathroom.

Wet, red eyes stared back from the mirror. I
blankly studied the pale image. Exhaling slowly, I tried to control
my shaking limbs. The cold water soothed my distraught face as I
gathered water from the faucet. I crushed the anger that was
beginning to boil and filled my lungs with another soothing breath.
I closed my eyes and reminded myself that I wasn’t going to live
here forever before returning to the kitchen to complete my
chores.

I breathed in sharply when I sat up in bed
the next morning, my hand reaching for my sore stomach, feeling
like I’d executed a thousand crunches. Despite the misery of my
condition, I was still going to the library. There was no way I was
staying in this house all day.

George and Carol didn’t think twice about
allowing me to go. I was sure they wanted me out of the house as
much as I wanted to leave it. I promised I’d be back in time for
dinner at six. When I started out, the need to contract my tender
muscles was excruciating. I pushed through the discomfort,
eventually able to block it out completely – a coping skill I’d
mastered over the years.

My heart fluttered faster than the effort
needed to pedal the bike when I neared the library. My mouth crept
into a smile at the thought of seeing Evan. I knew I should have
been paranoid about being caught, but after last night, I knew
there was going to be pain whether I did anything wrong or not – so
maybe I should do something to actually deserve it. I locked my
bike at the rack in the front of the building and leapt up the
stairs. Before I entered, I discovered him propped against the
stone exterior.

“Hi,” he said with a grin on his face.

“Hi,” I replied, my heart shifting into a
higher gear. Seeing him standing there waiting for me only
confirmed that this was worth the risk.

“Ready to hit some balls?”

“I’m ready for anything,” I declared,
following him down the stairs to his car.

“Anything, huh?” he confirmed with a smirk,
opening the car door for me.

I hesitated and looked up at him before I
crouched to enter the car, “Yeah, anything.” The smile spread wider
across my face.

His blue eyes sparkled as he returned the
smile, having no idea what I really meant.

“Ok,” he said emphatically and closed the
door behind me.

“How was your Saturday?” he asked as we drove
away from the library.

“Uneventful. How was yours?”

“I went to New York for one of my mother’s
charity dinners. So it was uneventful too.”

“Sounds it,” I said sarcastically. He
grinned.

When we arrived at the recreation center, the
distinct crack of aluminum bats making contact carried across the
parking lot. There were also the low thuds of clubs connecting with
golf balls coming from a different direction.

“Are you cold?” Evan asked.

“No, it’s really nice out today,” I
responded, not knowing why he’d asked.

“I thought you shivered.”

“I’m fine,” I replied dismissively, not
realizing my body had reacted to the sound of the bats smashing
their targets.

We walked toward the office to gather our
helmets and bats.

“Have you ever swung a bat?” Evan asked,
stopping near the slow pitch softball cages.

“Maybe in elementary school,” I
confessed.

“Let me show you first, and then you can give
it a try.” Evan continued to the medium pitch baseball section.
“I’ll start here so I can talk while I demonstrate what to do, then
we’ll move to slow pitch softball for you.”

“I’d like to stick with baseball
actually.”

“That’s fine,” he agreed. “Can you hold this
for me?” Evan took off his jacket and handed it to me. I couldn’t
help but take in the subtle clean scent as I folded it over my arm.
My heart hummed into action as I inhaled deeply.

Before he inserted the coins to begin, Evan
stood in the hitting stance. He explained his position and grip
while demonstrating a swing. I listened as best as I could but kept
getting lost in the fit of his shirt along his chest and back. The
lines revealed the lean muscles concealed beneath. I shook off my
daze and forced myself to concentrate on his words. He paid the
machine, and it started sending baseballs flying at him.

Evan made contact with most of the mechanical
pitches. I watched as they arced across the net to the back of the
enclosed space. He would occasionally miss when he was providing
instructions on how to follow through with a steady swing, noting
the importance of keeping an eye on the ball. The balls were hurled
toward him at a blurring speed. I didn’t know how he could see the
ball - forget about keep his eye on it.

When his turn was over, we walked over to the
slow pitch baseball cage. Evan entered the cage with me to get me
set up. I stood in what was my impression of the hitting stance.
Evan stood behind me and placed his hands on my hips to adjust my
angle. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and grabbed hold of
the bat, covering my hands. I tried to listen to what he said, but
all I could hear was my heart thumping in my chest as his breath
tickled my neck. He instructed me to keep my elbow up as he eased
me into a slow swing with the warmth of his chest pressed against
my back. I was entranced by his clean, almost sweet, scent.

“Ready?” he asked, backing away.

“Sure,” I replied in a daze, not realizing he
had finished his instructions.

“I’ll stand in the corner so I can correct
your swing.”

“Are you sure that’ll be safe? I would hate
to knock you out.” He laughed and assured me he’d be fine. Then he
pressed the button to begin the pitches. The first few whizzed by
me before I had time to react.

“I thought this was supposed to be slow
pitch,” I accused.

“Just concentrate on the ball,” Evan
instructed patiently. I watched the next ball fling at me and
swung. I connected with a piece of it, flipping it in the air right
in front of me. The twisting motion ignited a fire in my tender
stomach muscles. I kept my face blank, determined not to let the
soreness get to me.

“That’s it,” he encouraged. After a few more
swings and misses, and a few weak connections, Evan adjusted my
swing with some advice. He put in more money for another round of
pitches. This time, he stepped out of the cage and sat on the
bench.

I improved with each pitch, finding my
rhythm. Soon I was sending the balls through the air, not covering
the distance Evan had, but at least I was hitting them.

“Much better,” he praised. I enjoyed the
release, feeling my tension and pain slip away each time the ball
made contact with the bat.