Breathe Again

by Bonnie R. Paulson

  He’d stopped being excited about anything. When we first started dating in high school, we couldn’t get enough of each other. After each return from service, he’d been increasingly cooler toward me and “us.” I’d chalked it up to absence and the overexcitement I expressed. I’d tried too many times to make him happy, be anything he wanted. I’d never succeeded.

  The fact saddened me.

  “Maggie? You in here?” Dan’s voice echoed through the small building.

  I stood from the bed and walked into the hall. “Yep. Did you need pictures from inside too?” In the kitchen I served up two glasses of water. The heat would be pelting from above in no time.

  “Um, actually, I don’t think that will be necessary.”

  “Oh?” I turned from the sink and pushed the glass across the counter in his direction. Drinking from my own cup, I assumed his silence meant he did the same. Upon lowering my drink, I realized he hadn’t touched his water. Instead, he stood in the kitchen with an odd look on his face.

  “What is it?” A small clink filled the silence when I set my glass on the counter.

  “I just got off the phone from a buddy of mine on the other side of town, a Realtor.”

  I stood there, waiting for the punch line.

  “Maggie, we spoke about the house and there’s a buyer who is offering full asking price.” A large grin spread across his face. “I should have suggested a higher number.”

  “What? I don’t understand…” An offer? Full asking price? Does that even happen? “Okay. So, that’s a good thing, right?” Don’t think, Mags, don’t think.

  “Heck, yeah, it’s a good thing. It’s a great thing!” He paced in the small area, jiggling his keys in his hand. “There’s only one contingency. You have to be able to close in six days.”

  “Six days? I have to move out in six days?” Had the glass been in my hand, I would have dropped it. “Don’t they need time for bank dealings and all that?”

  “Not this buyer. They have cash and want to pay in full, but you have to be out in six days or the deal’s off.” He jumped at the ring of his cell phone from his pants pocket. Pulling it from his pocket, he glanced at the face to check caller ID. Glancing at me, he added, “Another thing…they want an answer fast.”

  “Okay. Sure. Yes.” I’d wanted out and this buyer had given me an immediate escape. I buried the panic welling within me.

  Dan flipped open his cell, shoved the earpiece to his ear and strode from the room. “Yeah? I’m here.” He mumbled as he walked out the front door.

  In a disbelieving daze, I grabbed my glass and walked to the table.

  Before I could grasp the concept that I’d just been offered full asking price on my home, Dan closed the door and all but danced into the room. “We’ll print up the papers. Can you come to my office tomorrow afternoon? We’ll sign and your countdown will begin.” He walked toward me with his hand outstretched. “Maggie, if it’s all right with you, I’m not going to put that sign up. Let’s wait and see. I might not need to if the papers are signed.”

  I grasped his hand in mine and shook. “Sounds good.” We parted and I walked him to the front door. Following his departure, my sanity slid from its shelf.

  I plopped down on the floor in my foyer, knees bent toward my chest. Distress broke through my dam. Sobs racked my body and tears flowed down my cheeks. My fingers were cold and I couldn’t feel my toes.

  My house—gone. I had nowhere to go, hadn’t planned anything past placing the house on the market. It sold, in less than a day. My home. Dean’s home, if only for a short time. Our home together.

  The heat from my tears branded my skin. Sadness I’d allowed myself, self-pity had been on the roster, but outright anger hadn’t been permitted toward Dean. Who got mad at the deceased? The pending move brought to the forefront the anger I’d worked long hours to forget. Frustration with my inability to use the entire house had driven me to post my home in the first place.

  I stretched my legs out on my floor—no, not my floor—someone else’s floor. It didn’t belong to me anymore. The first home I’d ever owned myself. Now what to do?

  The phone rang. I gave in to its pealing cry and dragged myself to my feet. I followed its sound into the kitchen, picking it up from the counter where I’d left it.

  Caller ID showed Ryan’s number. I didn’t feel like talking, especially when he’d been so rude before, but in my confusion I pressed Talk instead of End.

  His voice called from the other end of the line. “Hello? Hello? Maggie, are you there?”

  Crap. “Hello?” Yeah, I acted like I didn’t know who it was.

  “Hi, Maggie. It’s Ryan.”

  I stood there staring at the sold counter. I had things on my mind. He’d called, he could be the one to talk.

  He cleared his throat. “Listen. I’m sorry for the way I acted earlier. It was inexcusable.”

  Distracted, I gave a halfhearted, “It’s okay.”

  “Well, I was thinking if you’re not too busy or angry with me, maybe you could come by tonight for pizza and floats?”

  His offer split me in two. I’d love a chance to get out of the house I just sold. However, I didn’t want to see Brodan after promising nothing more than friendship.

  “I promise I’ll be good.”

  On the other hand, I’d already argued myself away from any possible relationship, so where could the harm be? “Okay. Sure. Say five?”

  He agreed and we hung up. Only a few hours and I’d leave for his place.

  The phone slipped from my hand onto the counter.

  Weak from fatigue I followed the hall into my room. A nap would be nice. I gave into my bed’s siren call, sliding my clothes off and crawling between the covers. Brain space maxed out, I left the growing headache behind, all thinking banned for the moment.

  Ringing. Incessant ringing. Rolling from bed, I stumbled out to the kitchen and answered the phone. Bright sunshine outside my window was blinding. I held up my hand to block the rays.

  “Hello?” I swallowed to ease the croaking dryness in my throat.

  “Maggie? Are you all right?”

  “Yeah, Ryan. Why? What’s up?” I rubbed my fingers against the bridge of my nose, yawning.

  “Well, um, you said you’d be here at five and…”

  I glanced at the clock on the stove, 5:24. Okay. “I’m sorry. A lot’s been going on today.”

  “Really? Anything you want to talk about?”

  I cleared my throat. “Actually, we can talk when I get there. I’m pulling out right now.” Well, after I got dressed. Showing up naked wouldn’t prove to Brodan we could all be friends.

  “Okay, see you in a bit.”

  Setting the phone on its base, I walked back to the bedroom to reclaim my clothes.

  The nap had done wonders. Grogginess lingered, but I had energy and the migraine that had been wiggling its way in never surfaced.

  Invigorated while faced with the possibility of seeing Brodan, my friend, as well as Ryan, and the sleep I had managed to steal, I used my hands to push my red mop into a ponytail off my neck. I grabbed the lip gloss sitting on my night stand, swiping it across my bottom lip before thrusting it in my pocket.

  I tried not to think about the things I wanted to say to Brodan on the drive out to the ranch. More important, I tried not to consider what he’d be doing or wearing.

  Why couldn’t I get over the fact that he only wanted to be friends? It rankled, that’s why. Shut down before I’d even opened up.

  The half-hour drive passed quickly as my mind spun, thinking about the situation I found myself in. I had too many decisions to make in a mere six days and more junk than I knew what to do with. Did it have sentimental value and if so, what? Sell it or keep it? Not to mention the two men who were driving me nuts in opposite ways. How annoying.

  Ryan stood on the front porch when I pulled up.

  “It’s about time. I sent Brodan to pick up the pizza. He should be back any minute.”
Ryan seemed to study me carefully when I walked up the steps to join him on the deck.

  “Hey. Okay, that sounds good. Sorry I’m so late.” I pointed toward town. “I could’ve picked up the pizza, Ryan. You didn’t have to send Brodan.”

  He gave me a look filled with contemplation and something I couldn’t describe.

  Thinking he meant to sit in the kitchen or on the back patio while we waited for Brodan, I headed toward the rooms I’d been in already.

  “Hey, let’s go in here. I never showed you what I do.” He reached out and tugged on my shirtsleeve, pulling me to the right of the doorway.

  “What you do?” I’d never actually considered him to be the working type. I’d assumed he didn’t work, just relied on Brodan.

  We entered a large room filled with high-quality technology equipment. I couldn’t understand anything that beeped or spoke in bytes, but I could tell value when it sat in front of me. His room had thousands and thousands of dollars plugged into wall outlets and surge protectors. Cables and wires in different sizes and shapes ran in every direction. Seven monitors in different sizes lined the wall opposite the door, three glowing with bright pixels and four blank.

  Three leather office chairs parked around desks piled high with keyboards and various joysticks and accessories. Luscious video equipment beckoned one into the shadowy room.

  “Wow. So, what do you do?” I stepped with caution into the treasure trove. If I broke anything, I’d be out a large chunk of the money I’d made on the house. With my movement, lights recessed in the ceiling glowed brighter.

  “I design multiplayer gaming software. Ever heard of G.A. Memaker?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, I loved the play on letters. Supersecret designer. You design games like that person?”

  He chuckled. “I am that person.”

  “Are you kidding me? You’re GameMaker?” I used the moniker the media had started using when the pseudonym had easily been figured out.

  “Yeah. Funny, huh? Everyone makes such a big deal about it. I think it’s because they have no idea who I am.” Ryan laughed some more while he walked to the large table. He picked up a wireless keyboard with blank keys.

  I stared.

  He turned toward me, the keyboard in his hands. Seeing my expression of disbelief, he followed my gaze. “What?”

  “What do you mean ‘what’?” I moved closer to him, pointing at the symbol-free squares. “How can you use that without the letters?”

  “I use it enough, I don’t need them. A lot of people in my field have slats like this. The fun part is when we reprogram the buttons to mean something else.” He laughed again, setting the board on the table. He leaned over and played on the keys like a pianist on ivories.

  Screens lit up across the room. Shiny pictures of fantastical worlds splayed on the monitors.

  “These are all yours?” I walked farther into the room. Scenes from each game played in quick succession in a trailer of enticing images to pull a player deeper in. I recognized a few from Dean’s game-playing days. “I know that one and that one.” I pointed toward a few monitors, in awe at the display.

  “Yeah, those are some favorites of mine. Those last ones are from my earlier work.” He pushed a few more buttons and the computer screens blacked out.

  “How many do you have?” I stared at the blank screens waiting for more.

  “Um, I don’t know…”

  I turned and speared him with my gaze. “You can’t pretend modesty now, Mr. Stewart. Nice try. Come on, give it over. How many do you have?”

  He laughed again. “Under G.A. Memaker I have about seventy-two. I have two other names in other genres like military mission ops and design-your-own styles. Combined they’re a little over fifty. Nothing to win awards over.” Ryan shrugged his shoulders.

  A new facet added intrigue to the man I’d labeled as my new younger brother. The occupation gave him a depth I hadn’t expected. The gaming was fun too. I had good familiarity with a lot of them and the plots alone were well thought out. “I’m very impressed, Ryan. You’re a smart one!”

  I turned from the screens and watched him. He’d chosen a life so isolated when, with his brilliance, he could have the world in his back pocket. Ryan had shut them out, but somehow, I’d been lucky enough to be ushered inside. “Can I ask you a very personal question?” I tilted my head.

  He winked at me. “How fat does it make my bank account?” He nodded toward the door. “I don’t live with Brodan because I can’t afford to live on my own. I have gobs of money and nowhere to put it, so it grows in mutual funds getting bigger and bigger. More money than I know what to do with. Brodan and I both have the investing gene. We’re just not sure where it came from.”

  “Where’d your modesty go?” I smiled at him. With the money he could have been a real jerk, instead he played it off, making it sound like a mold that continued to grow despite his best efforts.

  He threw his arm over my shoulder and steered me out of the room. We entered the foyer in time to meet Brodan returning with three boxes of pizza, two bags of dipping bread and sauces.

  Brodan spied Ryan’s arm resting in careless abandon around my neck. His head swiveled between Ryan and me, while his lips moved in silence. The last time he faced me, he scowled as if he’d gotten the answer.

  Ryan removed his arm to relieve Brodan’s load. I followed the brothers into the kitchen, helpless and feeling like I’d done something wrong. I just didn’t know what. Brodan pulled plates out of the cupboards, utensils from a drawer and glasses, all the while ignoring Ryan and me.

  Uncomfortable, I took the stool next to Ryan at the counter. Brodan served the food in silence without looking at us, furthering my unease. After sliding full plates our way, Brodan carried his dinner and drink around the counter, moving toward the stool beside me. I held my breath.

  He walked through the sliding door and out of sight.

  I glanced at Ryan, who ate his pizza, unaware or uncaring about his brother’s absence. Annoyed, I picked up my fork to cut into the thick crust and colorful toppings. “What’s wrong with Brodan?”

  “Huh?” Ryan’s stopped chewing and he swiveled his head to look in the direction of the door. He looked back at me. Around the food in his mouth, he asked, “Why do you think something’s wrong with him? Was he crying?” He laughed and swigged root beer from his cup, the idea of Brodan crying obviously more than he could handle with a straight face.

  “No. Are you guys fighting or something? Or did I do something I shouldn’t have?” I took a bite but found the food tasteless.

  Ryan avoided me. He stuffed an overlarge piece into his mouth and played with the cheese using his fork.

  “Are you? Why would you be fighting? Ryan, I don’t like this. What’s going on?” Setting my fork on my plate, I sat back, waiting for an answer.

  He finished his bite, swallowed, taking his sweet time. I arched my brow and waited, staring at him the way my mom used to look at me when I misbehaved.

  He sighed. “Look, we’re not fighting per se. We are, let’s say, having an argument about something.” He tore a chunk from the crust and swiped it in the sauce scooped on his place. “It’s no big deal.”

  “If it’s no big deal, why is he acting like you’re ripping his arm off?” I squinted at him, trying to discern the truth but confused.

  Swallowing, Ryan sighed. He tapped his finger against the edge of his plate. The disappearance of his ever-present smile showed an unexpectedly serious side of him. “I think Brodan should ask you out. He doesn’t want to, says you’re just friends.” He splayed his hands, a half-eaten slice of pizza dangling in one. “He’s jealous but won’t do anything about it.”

  I’d been stunned into silence. Ryan laughed at my expression. “That’s how I felt when he said there was nothing between you. A lesser animal would be electrocuted from the sparks between you two.”

  “You think we have, um, a spark?” My dry mouth struggled to form the words my belabored mind
couldn’t create.

  “Are you kidding? I just wish he’d stop thinking he has to protect me and date already. I want a bigger family.”

  I glanced at my pizza. “He told me we could be friends and that’s all. It sucked.”

  Ryan dropped the crust on his plate. His face fell, disappointment evident in the droop of his shoulders. Heck, he even ignored the rest of his pizza, his fingers instead drumming against the counter. “I didn’t realize he’d take it this far.”

  I pressed the pads of my fingertips to the bridge of my nose. The nap hadn’t been long enough for this. Brodan, Brodan, Brodan. What game are you playing? “Forget it.” Standing, I grabbed my plate, stacked my fork and cup on top of it and exited the house. The path took me to Brodan sitting ten yards from the doorway, Ryan at my heels. I smiled when Brodan noticed me.

  “We figured you needed a friend out here all by yourself.” He caught my emphasis, a ruddy blush seeping up his neck to burn his forehead.

  “Yes, well…” Brodan shifted in his chair. Ryan sat across from me on his brother’s other side. I rolled my eyes when our gazes met.

  “Well, you thought it was appropriate to sit out here without us? Hogging the summer, huh?” I tried to laugh off his rejection. Even Ryan recognized there was something between us.

  Captured by his pizza, Ryan ignored the conversation, shoving food into his mouth as fast as he could. For a moment, I was distracted by his hopeless abandon in the meal.

  “I can share the summer with my both my friends.” Brodan enunciated the last word by prodding his fork into the air.

  Touché, Brodan, touché. I had no answer for that.

  Brodan peeked at his younger brother, but spoke to me in an odd loud voice. “So, how did it go listing the house?”

  Ryan paused. Swallowing the food in his mouth, he cleared his throat. “Yeah. How’d it go?”

  Confused by the weird change in topic, I picked up my fork and cut a piece of the pizza free. Their game dumbfounded me. “I’m surprised, to be honest. While I was with the Realtor, it sold. Asking price, cash, and the buyer hadn’t even seen the place. Odd, huh?” I speared my food and glared at it before shoving it in my mouth.