Breathing 02 - Barely Breathing

by Rebecca Donovan

  "Great pep talk, thanks," I snapped sarcastically. "I don't want to talk about it; I might throw up on my phone, and I like this phone. I would hate to have to replace it.”

  Jonathan laughed again. "Fine. We won't talk about it. But don't let his dad get to you, no matter what."

  "I won't," I sighed, knowing that Stuart Mathews was the most intimidating man on the planet―there was no way I was not going to let him get to me. He scared the crap out of me!

  "Tell me what happens. The suspense is already killing me," he taunted, sounding overly dramatic.

  "Ha ha," I jeered. "I gotta go. Don't be surprised if I call you at three a.m. with a nightmare about being stepped on by a giant men's dress shoe. I'd name a brand, but I have no idea what men wear."

  "I'll be waiting," Jonathan chuckled. "Bye, Emma."

  I watched as Call Ended flashed across my screen, trying to summon the courage to prepare for dinner with Evan and his parents. It would’ve been better if Jared could have helped deflect the tension―he always seemed to know what to say to make the most serious situations seem light and uncomplicated. But he couldn't drive up from Cornell in the middle of the week.

  "What are you wearing?" my mother asked from my open door. I looked up in surprise, wondering how long she'd been standing there.

  "Uh, I was thinking the grey pants with the white blouse," I answered, motioning toward the two items hanging on the back of my closet. The pants were serious, like I was going to interview for a law firm serious. But the short sleeved blouse with the puffy capped sleeves was light and airy, keeping it a little more fun.

  "Pants?" my mother questioned.

  "I'm going to be so nervous. I'll be sweating like crazy. Do you know how uncomfortable it is to sweat behind your knees with a skirt on? It's pretty disgusting actually."

  My mother laughed. "Don't be nervous. I'm positive everything will work out for you both."

  "You've never met his father," I groaned.

  "Well, he can't be any worse than your grandmother," my mother countered with a roll of her eyes. I stopped and looked at her. I had no idea I had a grandmother. Carol and George never mentioned anyone, nor did my mother until this second. I was always under the impression that my grandparents had passed before I was born. Maybe that's what she meant―past tense.

  She didn't notice my stunned face. Or perhaps she chose to ignore it.

  "Are you going to take a shower? It's getting late."

  "Oh, yeah," I answered, jumping up from my bed, abandoning the phone that I still grasped in my hand on the bedspread. I gathered what I needed for the bathroom and moved past my mother down the hall.

  After styling my hair in soft curls and dressing in my serious, but not too serious, attire, I was ready. Or at least, I looked ready. Sara would've been proud.

  My phone beeped. I turned toward my bed, but it wasn't where I’d left it. Scanning the room, I found it on my dresser. I cocked my head curiously and picked it up to see, On your way?

  Leaving now, I texted back before rushing down the stairs.

  "Good luck," my mother offered from the top of the stairs, dressed in a short skirt and camisole.

  "Going out?" I deduced.

  "I'm overdue," she replied. "No reason to stay in on a Thursday night." Her voice sounded off, a little strained. She smirked and added, "Besides, it's April Fool's Day. What could possibly go wrong?"

  "Everything," I said to myself before saying, "Well, have fun," out loud. She turned and went back in her room. I paused in front of the coat closet, wondering if I should be concerned that she was going out. I took a breath and decided to focus on one nerve-racking situation at a time. I grabbed my coat and headed out the door.

  When I arrived at the Mathews', Vivian was stepping onto the porch wearing a long white coat and holding a small black clutch.

  "Perfect timing, Emily," Vivian greeted, taking a key out of her purse. "Evan, we're ready."

  Evan appeared, looking very polished, his overcoat covering what I assumed was a suit. I smiled at his shiny dress shoes, recollecting my nightmare prediction.

  Dinners with the Mathews always made me nervous―fearing I'd say the wrong thing or embarrass Evan with my lack of social skills. But tonight I was a wreck. I was convinced I wouldn't be able to eat at all.

  "Evan, would you mind driving?" Vivian requested, handing him the key to her BMW.

  "Sure," Evan replied. Before heading to the car, he walked over and wrapped his arms around me. "You look amazing. A little pale, but still amazing. You can breathe you know."

  "Not yet," I murmured from within his coat. He kissed the top of my head before opening the car door for me.

  "This is such an exciting night," Vivian stated from the passenger seat as we drove to the restaurant. "I hope we don't have to wait too long for your father to arrive."

  "It doesn't matter if he's there," Evan told her. "He's not going to like where I'm going unless it's Yale."

  "Evan," Vivian warned, "don't be that way. He only wants what's best for you, and he will come around to accepting your decision. He may need more time, that's all."

  "Yeah, four years," Evan mumbled loud enough for us to hear.

  "Wait. You already know where you're going?"

  "I already know where I want to go," Evan corrected. "I just need my mother to tell us if I'm going there or not. She's really great at keeping secrets, even from my father."

  "Well, if he knew where you were going, then this wouldn't be nearly as exciting," Vivian smiled. "I'm the only one who knows for a reason."

  I didn't understand her tactics, to keep his acceptance letters from him until this night. The need to let the suspense build until I thought I was about to pass out. I wanted to scream, "Just tell us already!!" But of course I didn't. I remained still in the backseat, barely breathing.

  When we arrived at the restaurant, we were escorted to a table in the corner with a little more privacy. Evan assisted in removing my jacket before taking off his own. My mouth crept into a big smile when he revealed his attire.

  Beneath his tailored suit jacket, he wore the Stanford t-shirt I'd given him for Christmas.

  "I didn't want there to be any misunderstandings about my choice," Evan explained with a smirk when he saw me beaming.

  "Very clever," Vivian admired with a shine in her eyes. "I'm not sure your father will appreciate your sense of style, but I adore it."

  "Me too," I added, feeling a little more confident at the sight of him wearing the t-shirt, like he already belonged there.

  Vivian insisted we order while we waited for Stuart. I selected the dish she recommended, knowing I wouldn't be eating much of it. I had a feeling that regardless of where Evan wanted to go and what college accepted him, his father was going to have the final say. After all, it was his money putting Evan through college.

  And then we waited.

  Vivian drove the conversation without pause, but she couldn't keep Evan from checking his watch every few minutes. I remained quiet, listening and nodding―glancing over as Evan's face became tighter with each minute that passed. By the time our entrées were cleared, with more left on the plates than eaten, Evan was straining every muscle in his body to remain composed.

  Vivian excused herself from the table, taking her cell phone with her.

  "He's not coming," Evan concluded dryly under his breath. "He wants to make it perfectly clear he doesn't approve and won't support my decision."

  I wanted to say the right thing to make him feel better, but I didn't. His father had deserted him on one of the most important nights of his life. What was there to say? Instead, I held his hand as he gripped it firmly, allowing me to just be there for him.

  Vivian returned and smiled tensely. "Well, it doesn't appear that your father will be able to make it. I apologize. So there's no use in delaying the suspense.

  "Evan, you chose Stanford, and they also chose you. Congratulations." She tried to appear happy for him, but Stuart's refusal
to attend cursed the entire evening.

  "Thank you," Evan accepted graciously, but his face still looked as though he'd bitten into something sour. I kept a worried eye upon him, feeling his hand tighten around mine.

  I tried to smile as well, looking toward Vivian for reassurance―but I couldn't find any in her troubled eyes. Evan's choice to attend Stanford had divided their family, and that wasn't worthy of celebration.

  I returned home that night deflated and confused. The one thing I wanted more than anything suddenly felt so selfish and wrong. And I wasn't sure how to make it right.

  The house was dark when I entered. I flipped on the foyer lights and searched for signs that my mother had returned. Her car wasn't in the driveway. Her jacket wasn't in the closet.

  I glanced at the clock and realized it was still early, so there wasn't need to worry... yet. I went upstairs to change and brush my teeth before returning to the living room and curling up on the couch to wait for her.

  My eyes blinked open, and I pulled my head off the pillow, listening. I squinted to make out the glowing time on the cable box. It was after three in the morning. I quickly swept the blankets off to peer out the window, finding my car the only occupant of the driveway. I ran up the stairs and opened her door. Her bed sheets were still crumpled in her half hearted attempt to make her bed. She wasn't home.

  I was trying not to panic, but I kept thinking of the night when Jonathan and I had to pick her up at the bar. What if something happened to her? What if she tried to drive home? My heart pounded with each racing thought, flashing through all the horrific possibilities.

  I paced the foyer, trying to decide what to do, then instinctively picked up my phone.

  "Was it a shoe?" Jonathan teased on the other end.

  "She's not home," I burst out. "It's after three in the morning, and she's not home yet. What if something happened to her? What if―"

  "Emma!" Jonathan raised his voice to get my attention. "What are you talking about?"

  "My mother," I explained, my voice edged with panic. "She's still not home and I don't know what to do."

  "Did you call her?"

  It seemed so obvious a question. I closed my eyes and shook my head in embarrassment. "No."

  "Call her and then call me back, okay?" he instructed calmly.

  "Okay." I hung up and immediately called my mother's phone. I didn't know why I hadn't thought to do that originally. I guess the visual of her in a ditch, bleeding to death on the side of the road, distracted me from thinking clearly.

  The phone rang three times before someone picked it up. "Hello?"

  "Hi, this is Emily," I answered not recognizing the woman's voice. "I'm looking for Rachel."

  "Oh," the woman croaked, obviously my call had woken her. "She's here, passed out."

  "Um," I faltered, "where's here?"

  "This is Sharon."

  "Sorry," I blundered.

  "Do you need to talk to her?"

  "No, I'll see her in the morning." I hung up the phone and plopped down on the couch. I wanted to be relieved, and I was... mostly.

  I called Jonathan back. "She's at Sharon’s. Sorry that I freaked out like that. I should have called her first. I wasn't thinking straight."

  "Don't worry about it," he assured me. "Are you going to be okay? Do you want me to come over or anything?"

  I paused, not expecting the offer. "Uh, no. I'm just going to bed. I have school in the morning."

  I did go to bed. But I didn't sleep.

  27. Lines Blurred

  "Did you remember your bathing suit?"

  "Huh?" I turned toward Sara, who was awaiting my answer with her shoulder against her locker. She'd caught me staring at nothing again. Thinking about my mother and wondering why I didn't see her this morning. I'd expected her to come home to get ready for work. Maybe she borrowed something from Sharon. From what I knew of Sharon, the choices must have been limited.

  “You brought your bathing suit, right?" Sara repeated with her brows scrunched. "For Jill's party tonight."

  "Yeah," I answered. "Are we staying at her place or going back to yours?"

  "Not sure yet," she replied, walking next to me until we had to go our separate ways. "See you at lunch." I nodded and headed downstairs.

  I felt like I was sleepwalking the entire day. The voices were murmurs of incoherent noise. I jotted down notes without really understanding what the teacher was talking about. Everything around me went by in a blur, but I was moving in slow motion.

  I expected Sara and Evan to say something, but they didn't. It struck me that perhaps they weren't surprised by my glazed over stare and lack of contribution to their conversations. They always looked at me like they were worried, so today was apparently just like every other day. But it felt... off.

  I wasn't sure I could explain it, but there was something that didn't feel right. I knew I was exhausted, not having slept more than a couple of hours, but it was more than that. There was a queasiness in the bottom of my stomach, like I had forgotten to turn off the iron or something―but much worse.

  I drove to the soccer field after school. The rest of the soccer team hadn't arrived yet, since practice didn’t start for forty-five minutes. I usually did homework and changed at school, but today I drove straight here. I reclined my seat and stared up at the clouds, waiting. I figured I'd change as the rest of the girls started to arrive.

  My lids became heavier the longer I stared. I closed them, convinced I'd wake when the cars began pulling in.

  "Do you have your cleats?"

  "Yup," I answered, picking them up by their laces.

  "Do you have your shin guards?"

  "Yup." I stuffed them under arm.

  "Do you have your coach?"

  "Daaad," I laughed. "Stop being silly."

  "I just wanted to make sure you had everything," he teased. "Guess I'll be in charge of the soccer star." He scooped me up in his arms and tickled my belly, making me squirm and squeal in delight. The he pulled me in to kiss me on the cheek.

  "We're going to win today," I told him, my voice proud and confident.

  "We're going to have fun today," he corrected, rubbing the top of my head as he carried me to the car.

  When we arrived at the soccer field, I raced ahead to join my friends while my dad unloaded the soccer balls out of the trunk.

  But as I got closer, the kids' laughter grew quiet, and the wind picked up. I squinted against the bright sun, spinning in a circle. Everyone was gone.

  "Dad?" I called out, searching for him. My hair whipped in my face. I clumsily pushed it out of my face, trying to see. "Dad!" I yelled, becoming more and more frightened. I spun around again, but I was alone. "Dad!" I screamed.

  "Emma!" I opened my eyes and shot up in the seat, blinking around in surprise, disoriented by the sun setting behind the trees. There was a knock on my window.

  "Emma, have you been in your car the entire time?" Casey asked from outside. She was sweaty and her face was flushed. I opened my door and swung my feet onto the dirt parking lot, trying to catch my breath. "You missed the entire practice."

  "I did?" I shook my head, trying to pull away from the dream completely. "I can't believe I did that."

  "I hope coach will let you play in the game on Sunday."

  "Is he still here?" I asked, searching the fairly vacant lot.

  "No," Casey replied. "I was about to leave when I saw your car. Are you okay? Are you sick or something?"

  "No," I shook my head. "I got here early, and guess I dozed off. I still can't believe I slept that long. Wow."

  "Are you going to Jill's tonight?"

  "Yeah. I should get to Sara's. I'll see you there I guess."

  "Okay," she replied with an unsure smile. "You'll be at practice tomorrow, right?"

  "I will," I promised, hoping missing practice hadn't jeopardized my starting position for Sunday.

  The team was part of a traveling spring soccer league. It wasn't affiliated with the
school district, and there were strict rules about missing practice―especially since we only practiced a few days a week. Coach wanted to make certain every player was serious about being there. He was more than willing to replace anyone who slacked. I needed this league to get in shape for Stanford and didn't want to jeopardize it by falling asleep in my car.

  When I arrived at Sara's, I found her and Anna laughing in the kitchen. Sara was taking bites from a slice of red pepper that she'd plucked from a cutting board while Anna cut up ingredients for a salad. I felt like I was intruding, and it struck me that I hadn't knocked. Maybe I was supposed to now that I didn't live here.

  "Emma," Sara exclaimed when she saw me. "Perfect timing. You can tell my mother that she is wrong about Kyle, and that he's not going to bring his college friends to this party tonight."

  "Um," I began, trying to catch up. "No, Kyle's not like that."

  "Oh, because he likes hanging out with high schoolers, even though he graduated last year," Anna rebutted with a smirk. "I'm sure he's going to bring some friends from Syracuse."

  I shook my head when she said it, realizing who that could mean. "I hope not."

  Sara started laughing, catching sight of my dread. "That could mean Drew. Em, that would suck so bad. I have to call Jill." She disappeared upstairs before I could say anything, even though her phone was in the front pocket of her jeans.

  "It's great to see you, Emma," Anna offered, mixing the contents of the salad in a bowl. "I feel like it's been a while since you've been over. How is everything going with your mother? I just had lunch with her the other day. She seems so happy."

  "Really?" I tried not to sound so surprised. "Everything's really... good."

  "I'm glad to hear that. She and I talk a few times a week, so I get the updates on your busy schedule. But we've missed having you around."

  Before I could react to her comment, the front door opened and Carl bellowed hello.

  "Hi, Dad," Sara said as she came down the stairs. They appeared around the corner together.

  "Emma, I'm glad you're here," Carl acknowledged, setting down his briefcase. "How've you been?