Reason to Breathe (30 page)

When we were done eating, Evan asked, “Do you
want to see the pictures I was talking about?”

“Definitely.”

I followed him as he opened the door behind
the foosball tables into a rustic room with exposed wood beamed
walls. There were two small windows on the other side of the room,
overlooking the drive way. Two twin beds with navy comforters sat
along one wall, and a long desk with pictures and photography
equipment sprawled across it ran along the other. There was a
simple, doorless closet on the same wall as the entrance with
shelves of clothes, books and photography equipment.

One of the first things I noticed was Sara’s
white scarf hanging on the back of the rolling desk chair. Evan
caught my eye and pressed his lips together.

“Yeah, you forgot that in my car. I keep
forgetting to give it to you.” I nodded, not sure what to make of
it, so I decided to dismiss it.

Evan started pointing out different pictures
of scenic landscapes that were pinned to the wooden beams above the
desk, explaining where he was when he took them. I was easily lost
in the detail of each shot, transported to the location as if I
were there standing next to him when he took them.

I began flipping through the loose pictures
scattered on the desk. Evan commented on some of the shots then
became silent to let me look on my own. I couldn’t say anything – I
was speechless. I knew he was talented when I saw the results for
the paper, but I had no idea.

I opened a black bound book, causing Evan to
take in a quick breath. I hesitated, uncertain if he wanted me to
look through it.

“That’s my work for Art class,” he offered.
It didn’t explain his reaction.

“Can I look through it?” I’d never seen him
so tense before.

“Sure,” he breathed, remaining uneasy,
standing perfectly still.

I turned the pages and studied the art that
he captured through his lens. The portfolio contained scenic
pictures, sports action pictures, and abstract pictures of
unidentifiable objects with smooth lines and intricate curves. Then
I flipped the page and stopped. I could sense Evan stiffen even
more when the image caught my breath.

I examined the black and white angled profile
of the girl. The soft lines of her face filled most of the picture,
her pale skin providing dramatic contrast with the dark background.
A thick wet strand of hair clung to her subtly parted full lips.
Drops of water scattered on her smooth skin, dripping from her
sloping nose. Her almond shaped eyes were smeared with black,
framing their haunted depths as she focused on a place far removed
from the picture.

“It’s beautiful,” I breathed, admiring the
powerful emotion and truth frozen in the single shot.

“I love that picture,” he admitted softly. “I
think it’s because I love the girl in that picture.”

I turned slowly to face him, confused by his
words feeling my stomach twist.

“What?” The strangling spread to my chest. I
could feel my heart beating in my throat.

“You don’t remember when I took that
picture?”

I stared at him, unsure of what he was
talking about.

“You were so quiet for so long. You didn’t
say anything when I came back to check on you. So I left to get my
camera, thinking I could get shots of people at the party and give
you time alone since you didn’t seem to want to talk.” I was afraid
to hear more. My heart beat louder, and my head felt light – I
could barely breathe.

“By the time I got back, it had started to
rain. I saw Sara in the house - I told her where you were, and that
I’d meet her outside. You looked so amazing in your stillness,
sitting in the rain; at the same time, you looked displaced – like
you were a million miles away. I had to capture it. I tried to talk
to you, but you wouldn’t say anything. So I sat next to you and
waited. You finally stirred from wherever you went and realized it
was raining.”

I heard every word he said, but I couldn’t
comprehend a single syllable. Then I stared into his stormy blue
eyes and saw what he was saying. My knees buckled - I inhaled
several fast breaths. I slowly lowered myself onto the chair at the
desk, staring at the floor, my breath lost.

After a few minutes of deafening silence,
Evan asked, “Are you okay?”

“No,” I mouthed, shaking my head slowly. I
looked up at him. “Evan, you can’t say that. You can’t mean
it.”

“That’s not quite what I hoped you’d say,” he
responded, the disappointment evident in his tone.

“I’m sorry…” I started.

“Don’t be, it’s okay,” he replied quickly,
suddenly trying to downplay the situation. Then he thought better
of it, and asked, “Are you really telling me you don’t feel the
same way?” I held my breath, and my heart ached.

“I can’t, we can’t,” I stammered. “You don’t
understand. It doesn’t matter how I feel, it just can’t happen.” He
stared into my distraught eyes and shook his head in confusion.

“I
don’t
understand. What are you
talking about?”

“Can’t we please just stay friends?” I
begged.

“But you’re not denying that you feel the
same way.”

“It’s so much more complicated than that. If
we can’t be friends, then –” I couldn’t say it. “
Please
, can
we just be friends?”

He didn’t respond. The silence was disrupted
by the vibration of his phone. He pulled it out of his pocket and
looked to me. “I’ve got to take this - it’s my brother.”

I nodded and he left the room. Soon after, I
heard his footsteps on the stairs.

I became aware that I was strangling my
shaking hands, and released them, but was unable to loosen the knot
in my throat or calm the throbbing in my chest. I took a couple
breaths in attempt to push it away. I stood on my rubber legs,
taking another breath before walking out of the room, closing the
door behind me.

21.
Just Friends

“We can be friends,” Evan said when he returned twenty minutes
later. He sat next to me on the couch and grabbed my hand. The
warmth of his hand sent shivers up my arm. I searched his eyes,
wanting to believe him.

“I mean, we’re already friends, so nothing
has to change.” The disappointment and confusion were replaced by a
comforting smile. He
appeared
to be sincere. “Okay?”

I had no idea what had happened in that
twenty minutes, but he was not the same as when he left.

“Yeah, okay,” I said slowly. I tried to smile
back.

I was so afraid of seeing him in school on
Monday, expecting an awkwardness between us. However, there wasn’t
the tension or avoidance I anticipated. Everything was back to the
way it was before the weekend ever happened – then again... it
wasn’t.

I noticed his presence so much more than I
had before. Every time he brushed alongside my arm when we walked
down the hall, or leaned in close to whisper to me in Anatomy, it
sent thousands of sparks flying through my body. I found myself
smiling more and caught up in his gaze longer. It was like I was
noticing him for the first time, all over again. But this time, I
knew he noticed me too.

Evan sat closer, walked nearer, and looked
longer. He started storing his books in my locker in between
classes, placing his hand on the small of my back when reaching
over me to retrieve them. These subtle touches would ignite a
warmth in my chest, and release tingles up the back of my neck. He
didn’t hold my hand in school, but he always found a way for the
backs of our hands to lightly touch when we were near enough.

We were engaged in a very intricate dance of
touching without touching, knowing without saying, and feeling
without expressing. We were friends walking along a ledge, a very
thin ledge - and I was too caught up in my heightened awareness of
his existence to realize how close the ledge was to crumbling
beneath my feet.

“What’s going on with you?” Sara asked during
our ride to school on Wednesday. I hadn’t told her everything when
I returned from Evan’s that Sunday afternoon. I told her about the
dirt bike ride and Jake’s call, but I left out
the room
. I
couldn’t bring myself to say the words out loud, and since we
agreed to be just friends, there was no point in saying them at
all.

“What do you mean?”

“You and Evan have been acting really…
different the last couple of days. Did something happen that you’re
not telling me?” She glanced over at my avoiding eyes and declared,
“Something
did
happen! Em, did he kiss you? I can’t believe
you didn’t tell me!”

“No, Sara, he did not kiss me,” I said
emphatically.

“Then what? You two are almost too… close, or
something. I can tell it’s not the same. So, what happened?”

“We’re just friends,” I emphasized.

“Did he say something?” she shot out in
excitement. I couldn’t conceal my pink cheeks. “Omigod, that’s it.
He finally told you how he feels about you. You have to tell me
what he said.”

“Sara, it doesn’t matter,” I retorted,
getting redder as I remembered exactly what he said. “We’re only
going to be friends, so I’m not going to talk about it.”

Sara didn’t continue her interrogation, but a
knowing smile crept on her face.

“Is Carol getting out of work early today,
too?” Sara asked when we pulled into the parking lot.

“She actually took the day off so she could
go shopping with her mother and start prepping everything for
tomorrow. I guess her sister and her kids are getting into town
tonight, so she wants to be there for that too.” The thought of
Carol in the kitchen
cooking
was laughable. I knew she
wasn’t going to measurably contribute to the Thanksgiving meal, but
would gladly accept the unearned praise.

“So you can’t go home after school, can
you?”

“I think I’m going over Evan’s,” I replied,
as casually as I possibly could.

“Yeah, and I’m coming with you,” she
insisted. I knew there was no point in arguing with her.

“Sure.” I smiled slightly, trying to hide my
disappointment.

To my surprise, Evan seemed perfectly
accepting of gaining a chaperone. When we arrived at his house
after a useless half-day of classes, I discovered why. Alongside
his mother’s BMW was a silver Volvo with New York license
plates.

“Your brother?” I concluded.

“He got in late last night.”

The side door opened as it did before, and
Vivian exited wiping her hands on a white apron tied around her
waist – evidently she
did
cook. She was stunning once again
with her hair twisted neatly off of her face. She wore a full black
skirt that fell below her knees and a pair of black boots that rose
to meet it, along with a tailor fitted white blouse.

Behind her was a tall blond who was obviously
her oldest son and the opposite of Evan in just about every way.
Jared had shaggy blond hair that flipped out at the tops of his
ears. His features resembled his mother’s soft lines and thin lips,
with her sparkling blue eyes. Jared was slightly taller than Evan,
with a broader, more muscular build.

“Who’s that?” I heard Sara whisper in my ear
as they approached.

“Evan’s mother and brother,” I said
quickly.

“Emily, how are you darling?” she asked,
giving me the same embrace but adding a peck on the cheek. I still
had a hard time returning the gesture due to its brevity.

“It’s nice to see you again, Mrs.
Mathews.”

“Vivian, please. We are already acquainted,
so we can forego the formalities,” she insisted, smiling
brightly.

“Jared, this is Emma,” Evan declared
proudly.

“Hi, I’ve heard a lot about you,” Jared
replied, extending his hand. I gave Evan a brief questioning
glance, he responded with a quick rise of his eyebrows.

“This is my friend, Sara,” I introduced,
after she nudged my elbow for the second time.

“Sara, it’s very nice to meet you. I met your
parents. They are wonderful people,” Vivian welcomed, shaking her
hand. Before Jared could say anything to Sara, Vivian turned to me
to ask, “Will you be staying for dinner?”

“Mom,” Evan stressed, alarmed by the
invitation, “it’s the day before Thanksgiving. I’m sure Emma needs
to get home to
her
family.”

“Well, another time then,” she said, ignoring
his curtness.

“Of course,” I promised.

“We’re going upstairs to play pool,” Evan
announced before his mother could make any other impromptu
invitations. He grabbed my hand and escorted me to the garage.

“It was nice seeing you again,” I blurted
quickly as we passed Vivian.

Sara and Jared followed behind us.

While Evan turned on the music and got us
drinks, and Jared collected the pool balls on the table, Sara
cornered me.

“
What
was that about?” she demanded.
“His mother is practically gushing over you. Not to mention that
he’s holding your hand like it’s the most natural thing in the
world. Forget about dating - are you having a wedding you forgot to
invite me to?”

“Sara!” I exclaimed a little too loudly,
shocked by her words. Her eyes widened at my volume, and we both
glanced around to make certain the guys hadn’t overheard.

“Stop being stupid,” I whispered. “I met his
mother at the dinner, remember? And he grabbed my hand to drag me
away before she said anything else that would embarrass him.”

“Whatever you say,” she replied, not
convinced.

“You two ready?” Evan called from the pool
table.

Evan and I were a team against Jared and
Sara. Throughout the game we engaged in casual conversation about
Cornell, soccer, the upcoming basketball season and Thanksgiving
plans. I could feel Sara boring holes through me every time Evan
leaned over me with his hand on my hip, adjusting my angle for the
tougher shots. Then again, the searing heat could have been my
heart pressed against my chest.