Breathing 02 - Barely Breathing

by Rebecca Donovan

  I just about collapsed when I saw the paramedics exit and rush to the ambulance to retrieve a stretcher.

  "What's going on? Please, you have to tell me if she's okay!" I pled in a desperate sob. "Sara!"

  "Emma?" I heard her rasp. She sounded like she was right inside the door. I tried to get to her, but the police officer held up his hand, and I was pulled back.

  "Miss, you need to stay outside until they've removed her."

  "What?!" I demanded frantically. "What do you mean?!"

  The paramedics and firefighters came into view through the open door, carrying a board.

  "No," I gasped, tears pouring down my face. "No."

  But then I saw the dark hair, not Sara's fiery red. I froze.

  I watched unblinking as they transferred her onto the stretcher and wheeled Rachel by me with an oxygen mask over her face. All of the emotion drained out of me. I stared after her in shock.

  "Emma?!" Sara called, rushing out of the house. Her face was red and streaked with tears.

  "Sara!" I exclaimed, hugging her tight. I knew my ribs were supposed to hurt. They should have hurt a lot today, but I couldn't feel anything. Sara sobbed into my shoulder. That's when I realized Evan was behind me. He'd been holding me back, helping the police officer contain me. "Sara, what happened?"

  "I found her in her room," she choked. "Her door was open, and she was lying on the floor. There were pills and a bottle of vodka. She wouldn't move. Then she stopped breathing." She took a quivering breath, and burst, "I tried, Emma. I really tried."

  "It's okay," I soothed, my heart aching at her distress. "It's okay."

  Then the realization slowly began to sink in, and I heard myself utter, "It's okay." But I wasn't really sure who I was talking to. Everything slowed down, and I felt like I was looking through a tunnel.

  The police officers asked us to come into the house to answer some questions. I responded without really knowing what I was saying. I didn't even know if I was coherent, dazed the entire interview. They said something about the ambulance and a hospital and I nodded, not understanding.

  "Thank you," I heard Evan say, and I watched the police officers return to their cars. There were people outside on the sidewalk. Neighbors gathered to catch a glimpse of my nightmare. That's what this was. I was trapped in a never ending cycle of nightmares. Voices echoed around me, and I tried to focus on their faces.

  "Emma, we should go," Evan said above me. My head felt heavy as I nodded it. "Want to come with us?" He was talking to Sara, but I just kept nodding.

  "Emma?" Sara called to me, taking my hand. I could still hear her sniffling. "She's going to be okay. I mean, she has to be."

  Who? I wanted to ask, not following along. Then everything rushed in on me all at once, I was punched in the stomach with the flood of information, my brain translating it in an instant.

  "No," I said strongly, drawing Evan and Sara's attention with a start. "No. I don't want to go to the hospital."

  "What?" Sara questioned in confusion. "Your mother just overdosed..."

  "I know," I interrupted. "I don't want to see her."

  "Don't you want to know if she's okay?" Evan asked, his voice careful.

  "No," I returned adamantly. "I don't want to see her. She did this. She did this because of me, to hurt me. I won't let her. I won't let her."

  "Emma, what are you talking about?" Sara demanded fervently.

  Evan crouched in front of me and met my eyes. "Are you sure?" I nodded. He studied me intently for a moment and then nodded. "Okay. We don't have to go."

  "Evan, what the hell are you talking about? What if she―"

  "Sara," he cut her off before she could finish. "You weren't here earlier. It's probably not a good idea to go to the hospital. We should get you home anyway. It's been a crazy night for you too."

  Sara shook her head, aghast. "I don't understand."

  "I'll explain later," Evan told her. "Emma, let's go."

  I was still a bit dazed. I took his hand and allowed him to guide me. He and Sara shut off the lights along the way, and he found the key on my keychain to lock the door. We continued to the car, and Sara crawled into the back while I sat in the passenger seat. We drove to Sara's in silence, or maybe I just couldn't hear them talking.

  Anna was a wreck when we arrived. She'd been contacted by the police, since they knew Sara's father. She fretted over us when we entered, hugging each of us, running her hand over our tear stained cheeks to examine us more closely. Evan did most of the explaining since he was the only one composed enough to make sense.

  My entire body ached and my ribs burned with pain. I didn't want to talk. I didn't want to listen. I just wanted to shut it all out and crawl under the blankets. Eventually, once Anna and Carl were satisfied with what they were told, we were released upstairs.

  Evan stayed with me as long as he was allowed, laying quietly in front of me on the bed, watching me drift off. Sara ended up crawling in bed with me sometime in the night, probably unable to sleep. I wasn't so certain I slept much either. My eyes searched in the dark―blinking in and out of consciousness.

  "I told her to do it," I whispered to Sara when her eyes opened across from me, the dawn softly glowing above us.

  She blinked wider, trying to understand.

  "I told her I didn't care if she took the entire bottle. And she did."

  "Emma," Sara breathed in shock, finally understanding what I meant. "You didn't make her do it."

  "But I don't know if I would've stopped her either," I confessed in a flat tone.

  "Don't say that. You would have."

  "I hate her, Sara," I rasped, my eyes blurring with tears. "I hate her so much." My voice broke, and I swallowed against the truth. Tears ran over my nose and onto the pillow. "I didn't want to see her, because... because I don't care if she's dead."

  "Oh Emma," she cried, her blue eyes seeping in pain. "I don't believe that. You're angry. But I don't believe you'd want her dead."

  I didn't say anything more. We lay silently, absorbing the torment in the other's eyes, eventually falling back into a restless sleep.

  I felt responsible for what Sara had endured because of Rachel's selfishness. But I didn't feel remorse for what I'd told her. I really didn't care if my mother lived or died.

  ~~~~~

  "Are you sure you don't want to come?" Sara asked again with the bag in her hand.

  I looked at Sara and her mother from my kneeling position on the kitchen floor, scooping up the congealed tomato and placing it on the cutting board on the table. "I'm sure. I'll finish picking up. I still need to throw out the food in the fridge."

  "We'll see you back at the house after we go to the hospital," Anna told me with the last box from my bedroom in her arms.

  "I won't be much longer."

  After I picked up the salad ingredients Rachel had thrown all over the kitchen, I mindlessly washed the dishes and emptied the refrigerator.

  I didn't look around when I left, just shut the door behind me and locked it. I tossed the trash bags in the cans on the side of the house and dragged them to the curb.

  Instead of returning to Sara's empty house, I kept driving. I knew exactly where I was going, even though I wouldn't let myself consider why I was going there, or what might happen once I arrived.

  I rang the buzzer and half hoped he wasn't home. My heart skipped a beat when the black metal door opened.

  "Emma?" Jonathan scanned my face and instantly asked, "What happened?"

  I took a breath. "Can I come in?"

  "Oh, yeah, of course." He backed up to let me pass.

  I climbed the stairs with him behind me. I sat on the couch and he took a seat in the chair, anxiously awaiting my words.

  "Rachel tried to kill herself last night," I revealed without any intonation in my voice.

  Jonathan slowly nodded his head and lowered his eyes. He looked back up at me and told me, "Don't feel guilty."

  My eyes scrunched in confusion,
not certain if I’d heard him correctly.

  "For not caring... you shouldn't feel guilty."

  My eyes instantly glossed over, knowing the real reason I’d driven here―because he understood. My throat tightened.

  "I feel so horrible. What kind of person am I? I mean, she's my mother―"

  "No she's not. She never was," he countered softly. "Emma, she wasn't even close to being your mother. You have every right to hate her."

  I bowed my head in my hands and sobbed―each gasp sending a wave of pain through my body. I wrapped my arms around my ribs, to no avail. I couldn't stop crying.

  Jonathan moved next to me and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. "You didn't do anything wrong, Emma. It was her choice, not yours. You didn't make her do it."

  "I told her to," I choked, tilting my head up at him.

  "So," he responded, wiping the tears from my cheeks. "It was her pain, not yours, that made her do it."

  "But I wish," I stuttered, "I wish she were dead. Then maybe she'd stop hurting, and stop hurting me." I tried to continue but couldn't catch my breath. "That's so horrible. I'm so―"

  "No," he soothed, pulling me to rest my head on his shoulder, gently rubbing my back. "She hurt you, Emma, over and over again. You can let her go now. Don't let her hurt you anymore."

  I fought for my breath in the crook of his neck, letting him comfort me in his arms. It wasn't until I was able to calm enough to think straight that I realized it was not where I should be. I lifted my head, and his hand was on my cheek, wiping my tears. And then his soft lips were on mine.

  I jumped up and stumbled back, shaking my head. "I can't."

  Jonathan bent his head with a slow exhale. "I don't understand."

  He looked up at me, and his eyes connected with mine, so exposed and vulnerable. My heart ached at the intensity of their emotion. I wiped my cheeks, and shook my head again. "I can't."

  "You should ask yourself why you can't, Emma," he said calmly, pulling his eyes away, making me want to crumble in misery. "Is it because you don't feel it? You're here, so you must feel something. You can't deny that, no matter how hard you try."

  I shook my head, not in denial, but in confusion―not knowing why I was compelled to see him. I thought it was because I knew he'd understand. But I could have just called him. I didn't have to be here, to see him in person.

  I couldn't think straight.

  "You've been through a lot in the past week," he whispered, his dark brown eyes peering through me, seeing more than I ever intended. "So you should just wait. Wait until everything settles. Okay?"

  I didn't say anything, not certain what he was asking of me.

  "We have this connection, and it's crazy," he explained. "I don't know how to give it up, do you?"

  I shook my head, unable to speak because I knew it was true.

  "It's going to be okay, Emma, I promise. We'll figure this out."

  "Okay," I whispered. I released a quick breath and said, "I should go."

  "I know."

  I approached the stairs, my knees weak. I turned back toward him and said, "Jonathan, thank you... for understanding."

  "I'm always here for you, Emma," he smiled gently. I guided my way down the stairs, barely able to stand, not feeling that much better than when I’d arrived. Then again, I wasn't sure what I was feeling at all.

  42. Something To Hold On To

  You asked why I stayed when I had every reason to leave ~ I stayed for you. I was drawn to you almost instantly without really understanding what was happening. I will always be here for you, Emma.

  I thought I caught a glimpse of his blue pickup truck in the bustle of the parking lot—amidst the cars trying to position for spots and bodies not getting out of their way. I stretched my head around a group of guys in letter jackets to get a better view.

  "What are you looking at?" Sara asked a few feet ahead of me, stopping when she realized I wasn't beside her. The guys began walking toward the school, and what I thought was his truck was a Tahoe. I released my breath and turned away.

  "Nothing," I said, catching up with her.

  Sara tightened her eyes skeptically. I tried to smile, but it felt foreign on my face, having not done it very much in the last couple of weeks.

  "Do you know what we need?" Her eyes lit up at just the thought.

  "What?" I asked, not certain if I should encourage the mischievous glint in her eye.

  "We need a senior skip day," she exclaimed as we spotted Evan a few rows ahead of us. He raised his chin in recognition when he saw us and waited for us to reach him.

  "But don't we have one in two weeks?"

  "That's planned. The entire senior class is skipping that day. What's the fun in that?” Sara scoffed with a shake of her head. "Emma, you're in need of some serious spontaneity. We have to pick a day sooner, to rid of the distractions and just have a good time. A much needed good time."

  "I could use that," I sighed. I'd been fighting with more distractions than I could handle, including the Sunday I'd gone to see Jonathan―which I couldn't stop thinking about. Or the text he sent the next day, that I’d read every day since. I was in desperate need to rid myself of that distraction in particular, and clear my head.

  "What do you need?" Evan asked overhearing us. He slid his hand in mine.

  "A skip day," Sara declared proudly. "Just the four of us!"

  "Four?" I questioned.

  "Jared," Sara explained. "How about this Friday? It's supposed to be so nice and Jared will be here for Evan's birthday. We'll go to the beach."

  "I don't know if it's quite beach weather," Evan returned.

  "Who cares," Sara shot back, already beaming from the idea. "We don't have to wear bathing suits. We'll have a picnic and build sand castles and play catch or whatever. Don't try to ruin our skip day, Evan!"

  Evan chuckled and held up his free hand in defense. "Okay, Sara. Friday is our skip day. It'll be great."

  "Of course it will."

  I grinned at her enthusiasm as she almost bounced her way to our lockers. I turned to Evan as he was about to part ways toward his. He bent down and kissed me briefly. "Will you come over after my game today?" he murmured in my ear.

  "Sure," I smiled, letting go of his hand and watching him walk away.

  I was still relishing the tingle of his breath against my ear when I opened my locker to gather my books.

  "I don't think you should wait until prom," Sara mused, eyeing me with a smirk. "The two of you need to have sex more than any two people I know."

  "Sara!" I exclaimed, looking around in a panic to see who may have overheard.

  "Just sayin'," she smirked again and walked away.

  My cheeks flushed, I rolled my eyes and turned back toward my locker.

  "I'm going to shower," Evan told me as we parked in his driveway. "Where do you want to wait for me?"

  "I'll meet you in the barn," I replied, opening the car door. My phone chimed as I reached the steps leading to the rec room. I was about to press the ignore button, as I had for the previous three calls that day. Then it beeped twice indicating the missed call, followed by a text.

  Emma, please talk to me. Please.

  I stared down at my phone. His plea felt like a weight in my chest. I hadn't stopped thinking about him since I'd left him that day. But I didn't really know what it was I was thinking... or feeling. I kept avoiding him, afraid of what emotions his voice would conjure up. But I couldn't keep doing this to him... or to me.

  I sat down on the couch and took a deep breath, listening to the phone ring on the other end.

  "Hi," he answered quickly.

  "Hi," I returned, my heart beating profusely. "I'm sorry I haven't called."

  "I'm sorry I keep calling," he replied. "It's just hard, not hearing from you, especially after talking to you almost every day."

  "I know. It's been hard for me too."

  "I got a little scared. I thought maybe... maybe you didn't need me anymore. You know,
now that Rachel's not around and―"

  "Don't say that," I interrupted. "I've wanted to call, to talk to you, but... I didn't know what to say. What you expected me to say."

  "Emma, I don't expect anything. I just want you to be honest, that's all." After a pause, my mind trying to understand what he was asking of me, he filled the silence with, "How have you been sleeping?"

  I laughed lightly at the question. "Pretty well actually. Maybe you did cure me, or I just don't care anymore. How about you? Is the nightmare gone?"

  "It comes back every once in a while."

  "So you've been sleeping too," I concluded.

  "I wouldn't say that," he countered. "I keep waking up, afraid I missed your call. So... not sleeping that great."

  "I'm sorry," I offered again, my voice heavy with guilt.

  "It's okay," he dismissed easily. "When can I see you? I think we should... talk. There's so much I need to say to you, and I don't want to do it over the phone."

  "Uh," I delayed, a streak of nerves shot through my chest. "I'm not sure." I jumped at the sound of the door closing at the bottom of the stairs. "I should go. Someone's coming."

  "Emma," he called to me. I stared at the stairs waiting for Evan to appear, still listening. "I know you're confused right now, but I've missed us, you know, our talks―being able to share what no one else understands. I don't want to lose that, to lose you."

  "I don't either," I murmured, watching the stairs. Then I heard the door close again. "And we will talk. I promise. But I should go." I hung up and sunk into the couch, having a hard time catching my breath after hearing his voice. I missed talking to him. But I’d known ever since he kissed me, it wouldn't be the same between us. I never wanted this―for him to feel this way. It scared me.

  After everything we'd been through, all the nights sharing and revealing what no one else knew, I couldn't deny that there was something between us. I felt it the first night he stayed up with me. Our horrific lives and recurring nightmares bonded us in a way that was difficult to explain.

  But I also believed there was something more to what kept him up at night. Something he couldn't yet face himself. The source of all the fury that waited to be unleashed with the slightest trigger. The thought of it made my pulse race.