Just Breathe

by Mataya, Tamara

  The last to leave the cab is a man, tall, clad in a dark suit, jacket slung over one arm, sleeves rolled up. He’s got a very nice body, and his longish dark hair is...

  Wait a second.

  Dominic?

  No. I can only see his profile, but that can’t be him; Dominic is at work. That’s not him. But even as I think it, my hand is inside my purse, fumbling for my phone.

  Elle: Sure I can’t persuade you to run away with me? I’ll write a note for you to give to your boss ;)

  Send. I keep it light, but I feel like screaming.

  The man across the street reaches into his pocket and pulls out a phone. He shifts his angle just enough that I see it’s definitely Dominic. He smiles and types.

  My phone vibrates. Text received. I’m holding my breath, but I don’t even know what I want him to say.

  Dominic: I wish! I’m stuck here at work. I’ll be at it all night. Call you tomorrow. xx

  Is this really happening? Returning my gaze back across the street, he walks ahead of the three people he’s with and holds the door open for them. The brunette enters last, brushing his forearm with her hand, and he touches the small of her back, guiding her inside the restaurant. The way they move together. Chemistry.

  He’s on a date. He lied to me.

  I set up a date for us that we’ll never get back, and he bails on me to go on a date with some perfect brunette and another couple. I mean, I guess technically we never had the “are we an exclusive item” discussion, but I didn’t think he’d blow me off—especially for a date.

  God, I’m stupid. Why wouldn’t he blow me off for someone like her? She looked like she fit flawlessly into his perfect world. I’m just a poor ex-pothead librarian.

  My mouth waters. I might throw up.

  I’ve spent so much time over the past couple months we’ve been seeing each other waiting for him to call me. How many other times was I waiting while he was out on the town with gorgeous women?

  I’m a moron.

  Do I confront him? What would be the point? We never said we were exclusive. So why is my throat burning from the tears I’m fighting back? Screw this.

  Pulling my phone from my purse, I scroll through and hit connect.

  “Hey, Sexy As. Change your mind?”

  “Maybe. Which pub are you at?”

  “Murphs.”

  That’s only four blocks from here. There’s no point missing the exhibit myself—I’m on the hook for extra shifts regardless of whether I see it or not. And I really want to see it. And I really need to focus on something other than what I just saw.

  “I have a better idea.” I stand. “Have you seen the Egypt exhibit at the museum yet?”

  “No, but I’ve heard good things. Why?”

  “Can you meet me there?”

  “What, now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Nothing on Earth could stop me. I’ll be right there.” He doesn’t hesitate.

  Without a backwards glance, I walk to the museum and wait for Jason. At least he wants to be with me, isn’t playing me like Dominic has been. I’m such an idiot. I turn my thoughts back to Jason. He does seem different since he’s been back. More mature, somehow, and he’s definitely trying harder to be with me; putting in more effort. He’s been texting me, even when I haven’t returned them all.

  He grabs me from behind eleven minutes after I called him, making me jump and squeal in surprise.

  “Jason!”

  He nuzzles my neck. “I always did love making you make that sound. You look fucking hot.”

  That’s a bit too familiar considering his absence, and a bit dangerous giving my vulnerable mood. Not wanting to give him the wrong idea, I pull out of his arms and start walking to the side entrance. “Ready?”

  “Aren’t they closed?”

  “I called in a favour.”

  “You did that just for me?” He sounds pleased.

  “No.” I want to be clear. “A friend was supposed to meet me but something came up.”

  “Someone stood you up?”

  My heart skips a beat, stomach clenches painfully. “No one said that.” I’m not sure if he buys my casual tone.

  “Okay. But just so you know, I’d never do that to you.”

  Yeah, except for that time when you moved to another city. Why did I call Jason back? He must see the regret on my face because he stops walking.

  “I’d never make the same mistake again. However long it takes to prove that to you, I’ll be here.”

  I don’t know what to say, so I don’t answer. My bright idea to invite him is feeling like a bad move, but we’ve reached the door, and I ring the buzzer. Danny’s head appears around the open door.

  “Elle! There you are. Is this your friend—”

  “He had to cancel, so I brought my friend, Jason, instead.” Though I can feel Jason’s eyes boring into the back of my head, I keep my gaze on Danny. Breathe, Elle. Focus on right now, not on Dominic and the brunette goddess.

  “Come on in.” Danny ushers us inside. “The rest of the museum is closed, but the Pharaoh exhibit is all yours. Take your time, meet me in my office around nine-thirty or ten when you want to see the behind-the-scenes goodies.” He leads us into the elevator.

  “Thank you so much for this.”

  “Please, Mary-Mags wouldn’t let me say no. She says it’s just nice to see you happy again.”

  My cringe and violent blush alerts him he may have said too much. “I definitely appreciate this.” My voice barely trembles. Victory. I’m leaving Dominic at the door, and I will have a good time if it kills me.

  “Well, I hope you enjoy it. I think it’s a fabulous exhibit, and we’re honoured to have been chosen as one of the cities to showcase it.”

  The elevator dings and the doors whoosh open when we reach the fourth floor. “I’ll take my leave. You remember where my office is?”

  “I do,” I say. “They advertize it pretty blatantly. You’d think you were the curator here, or something.”

  He chuckles. “Touché. See you later.”

  The elevator closes and makes an expensive whirring noise as it descends. State of the art everything here. Danny runs a tight ship—except when he’s bending the rules for his wife’s co-worker.

  “Shall we?” Jason says.

  “We shall.”

  The walls are a light grey, the carpets a greyish pink: dull neutrals that don’t detract from the exhibits. There are a few free-standing display cases in the first section. The nearest is a print of a large papyrus, covered with hieroglyphs.

  Next to it is a tiny display case with a gold figure about an inch and a half tall. A Shawabti, or Ushabti. They were put in the tombs, and supposed to be substitutes of the dead person, to stand in for them if they were called on to do manual labour in the after-life.

  Even thousands of years ago, people still fantasized about having clones of themselves to do the work while they lazed about in a charming manner. I can understand it back then—life was so much harder than it is now.

  “Seems kind of weird,” I muse.

  “What does?”

  “They make these little statues to stand in for them in case they have to work after they die. But part of their process was to have their good deeds weighed against the bad, to determine if they got to live eternally.”

  “Okay?”

  “Well, making a little slave to do your work for you should count against you. Seems pretty lazy to me. A little mean too, making the slave be your eternal slave. They don’t get peace from being chattel, even after they die.”

  “Oh, Ellie. What it must be like inside that head of yours. All bright and innocent. So shiny.”

  “Jase!”

  “For real. You’re a softy. It’s one of your more endearing qualities.”

  He grabs my hand and squeezes it, but releases it right away. I almost wish he hadn’t. I need a friend right now.

  Focusing on the next display case, I bury myself in thoughts of t
housands of years ago. Closing my eyes, I can pretend the lights from the displays are the warm desert sun. I’m far away from here, in Egypt, standing in the desert, sand beneath my feet, soothing wind blowing my linen skirt around, gently brushing my calves. And my heart isn’t caving in beneath the crushing weight of my pain because there is no Dominic, and there is no Elle. I’m just a slave waiting to do my lord’s bidding.

  The glass cases throw off heat, each item sealed in its own temperature controlled environment, sealed away from humidity, or things that could hurt it. Trying to immerse myself in the illusion, I gently press my hand against the glass. Thick, not as warm as I’d hoped it would be. My illusion crumbles as I look at the chipped features of the Ushabti.

  If the Ancient Egyptian afterlife is real, then he’s still a slave. Forever. Will I be a slave to this pain forever? First Jason, now Dominic. Is this my destiny too, to go through life alone, except for when people are tearing my heart out?

  Warmth radiates at my back, and strong arms wrap around me, holding me together without knowing it. Jason. He doesn’t say anything, just stands strong while I lean against him and close my eyes. Breathe in. Breathe out. He doesn’t know, but somehow he understands. His support gives me the strength to fight the tears back so my cheeks stay dry.

  “I peeked ahead. There are mummies in the next room. Want to make sure they’re still safe in the cases, and aren’t creeping around, ready to grab us?” He squeezes me.

  “I’m pretty sure we’d have heard them moaning.”

  “Only one way to find out.” He leans down and kisses just in front of my ear, taking my hand in his own. This time he doesn’t let go as we walk into the other room.

  No runaway mummies. Just me and Jason and beautiful treasures of history. I don’t get the chance to become maudlin again—Jason makes me laugh with comments about the antiques, and distracts me before my mind can wander from the room. It’s good to laugh, feels nice hanging out with him.

  “I wonder how much all these things are worth.”

  “Hard to give something a value if it’s considered priceless,” I reply.

  “No, I know, but like, a base amount, you know? It would make it way more interesting if there were little tags saying things were worth ten million dollars. Like that ratty bit of fabric,” he points.

  “That ratty bit of fabric had to battle thousands of years, harsh desert weather, tomb robbers, and fabric eating bugs to make it to now. That’s worth more than a lump of gold, simply because it’s so rare. Not much fabric, or even pillows survived to modern times.”

  “Quite the speech, Sexy As.”

  “Yeah, it sort of was, wasn’t it?”

  “Won’t someone think of the fabric!” he warbles dramatically. “Kennedy has been a bad influence on you.”

  “Yes she has. I never realized I knew so much about fabric.”

  “Remember that time she was figuring out what material she had by the way little strips of them reacted to her lighting them on fire?”

  “Yes! That was so cool. I hadn’t known you could tell that way.”

  “How is Kennedy?”

  “Good. Get this! Her and Nick are seeing each other.”

  “Wow, that’s random! How long has that been going on?”

  “Couple months.”

  “Nice. Good for Nick. Kennedy’s a catch.”

  His praise of my best friend makes me smile. It’s cool that he knows my best friends and I don’t have to explain the situation. “They’re both catches. I seriously hope it works out.”

  “Looks like we’ve finished. We’re back where we started.” He gestures at the room we’re in.

  “Yes. We are back at the beginning.” I look at him in a new light.

  “Want to go find the dude and check out the behind-the-scenes stuff now?”

  “Sure.” I punch the button for the elevator.

  We enter and leave the history on the third floor with the mummies.

  ***

  Danny lets us out after the rest of the tour. It was cool, but wasn’t as awesome as I’d thought it would be. Most things were so wrapped up and protected we were only told what they were and shown their catalogued pics. Still neat though.

  “Well,” I say. “I’ve got a bus to catch.”

  “Sure you don’t want to come to my place?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Then at least let me call you a cab.”

  “No, I’m cool on the bus,” I insist.

  “I can’t let you walk there alone. Let—”

  “Jason.”

  He smirks. “I know that tone of voice, and know better than to argue. Goodnight, Sexy As. Thank you for calling me.”

  “You’re welcome. Thanks for coming.”

  “I’ll always come for you.” He hugs me and I let him, relaxing into his familiar scent. In spite of everything, I’ve missed him. And my god I ache all over from seeing Dominic with that woman. Jason’s arms around me are a validation that I’m wanted, needed, loved.

  Ugh, what am I doing? I tense up. No matter what Dominic’s done, I can’t let that force me into Jason’s arms. It’s not right, no matter how much fun I had tonight. Sensing not to push it, he brushes a short but sweet kiss to my lips, and walks away, promising to call later.

  I make my way back to the bus stop across from the scene of The Crime. Jason was so nice tonight. Was that a date? Technically, I guess yes, it was. With Jason, the asshole who tore my heart out not that long ago. I can’t believe I called him when Dominic cancelled. That’s got to mean something. Reaching into my purse for my phone, I check for any calls from Dominic. Nothing. But I didn’t really expect there to be. He’s on a date, and I was just on a date with my ex... And I enjoyed myself.

  How could Dominic do that to me?

  Flopping morosely onto the bench, I’m horrified to see they’re just coming out of the restaurant now. The other couple get in a cab and drive off. Dominic and Her wait until the cab turns the corner, then his arms are around her, and she’s wrapped around him, and he’s swinging her around, and they’re both laughing.

  And I’m sitting here with my heart quietly shattering inside my chest, agony spreading through my body like emotional shrapnel. I can’t watch this.

  She kisses him.

  I can’t look away.

  A rumble from my left. My bus is here.

  I finally have a getaway when I need one.

  ***

  I shut the door behind me and kick off my shoes.

  “Hey, Elle.” Kennedy’s chopping up some weed. Excellent.

  “Mind if I join you?”

  She pauses chopping and searches my face. “Sure.”

  I sit on the other end of the couch. Fuck being sober. Time to get really, really high. It was all such a beautiful, horrifying lie. What was I, the girl Dominic was slumming with? I can’t compare to her.

  “Can you roll a little faster?” I ask. “You know what, fuck it. Just pack a bowl in Lucille.”

  “Okay, far be it from me to toke-block, but what’s up? You haven’t smoked for a couple months, and you come home all heated up about something...”

  “I’m not heated up. I’m just, I saw...” Screw it, I’ll lie. “I have a splitting headache right now. Break’s over!”

  “Aww, that sucks.” She hands me the bong and the lighter. “Elle means girl, and girls are ladies, and it’s always ladies first.”

  “Thank you, Ken. Sorry to be an asshole. I just hurt right now.” Lying by omission. I’m so good at it, why stop now? I light up and breathe in the sweet oblivion.

  I hadn’t noticed how annoyingly clear and sharp everything had become the past couple months. The acrid burn in my throat makes me cough. Jason made me smoke too much, and Dominic indirectly made me pretty much quit. I’m not sure which extreme, or betrayal, was worse.

  “You never cough!” Kennedy exclaims a bit gleefully. “You’re pretty much new again!”

  I’m too busy battling the sensation o
f my chest caving in to dignify that with a response. Harsh weed does not mean it’s good. Guess I’m just not used to the hardcore emotional smoking anymore. Not since Dominic and I met, and...

  I light up again, and finish the bowl to myself. Before the night is through, I intend to be swaddled in a smoky blanket of indifference, and then munch out, and nowhere on the agenda is “thinking about Dominic.”

  My phone buzzes. New text message.

  Dominic: Hey beautiful. Hope you’re having sweet dreams. Do you have any plans this weekend? Miss you. Call me.

  Delete.

  Why, yes, Dominic, I do have plans. I’m going to get really, really high for a while, and never call you ever again. Asshole.

  “Who was that?” Kennedy asks.

  “Dominic.”

  “You going to hang out soon?”

  The only reply he’d get from me is a resounding, “fuck you.” Nope, but I’m not ready to talk about it. “Maybe.”

  My phone buzzes again. Another new text.

  Jason: Did you get home safe, or did the mummy get you?

  I smile and reply:

  I’m home now. Gave the mummy the slip.

  Jason: I had fun tonight.

  Elle: Me too.

  Jason: Want to have fun again, say tomorrow night? Dinner to celebrate new beginnings?

  Elle: I don’t know.

  Jason: Come on, Sexy As, it’s just dinner. You’ve got to eat, right? We can even go to Arland’s. That was the stuck-up place you always wanted to try, right?

  A shudder ripples through my body. I never want to see that restaurant again, but I’m surprised that he remembers the name of the restaurant after all these months.

  Elle: I’m surprised you remember.

  Jason: I remember everything. Please come with me.

  Elle: Not Arland’s.

  Jason: You choose the place then :)