Breathe

by Amber Lacie

  Wrapping my arms around myself, I pull my knees up to my chest and let out a scream no person should hear. My world, my life has come crashing down, exploding around me.

  Walter takes his time saying goodbye to Holden. He tells him funny stories and sweet memories of Holden when he was younger. Carol leans over his face, gently kissing him over and over again. She promises to love him forever. She promises to keep his guitar tuned and in working condition. She says she will bring it to him when they meet in heaven. They sit with him awhile. Walter stands and holds his hands out for Carol. She reluctantly takes them. They step out of the room, allowing me to have some privacy with him.

  I don’t want privacy. I want him and nothing I do or say is going to change the fact that he is gone. A tear falls from my eye onto his cheek, as I look down at the love of my life. I run my hands through his hair one more time, reveling in its softness. My fingers brush against the scruff on his face. My eyes memorize every freckle, every line, every single imperfection that makes him so incredibly perfect.

  I gently press my lips against his cheek, wishing I could feel his touch one last time. Carefully moving my body around his, as not to disturb the wires, I curl myself as best as I can into him. I press my ear to his chest and I can hear his strong beautiful heart beating, but the rhythm is different. The song is gone.

  I softly grasp his hand in mine and I whisper my goodbye. “I know you love me. This is where you are supposed to make a Han Solo joke, but you can’t, so I want you to know that I love you, too. I will love you forever. I’m so sorry I didn’t say it sooner. I’m sorry I went to Lafayette. I’m sorry I ever said yes to that date with Michael. I should have been with you from the beginning, I belong to you.” Tears stream down my face like a rushing river.

  “Holden, what am I going to do without you? I can’t even breathe right now. Every breath is a sharp stab to my heart, reminding me you’re not here for me to share it with…You always said you saw supernovas when we were together and now I know why. You are my supernova. You were bright and brilliant while you were here, but now there’s a big black hole sucking me in. I’m drowning in it…I love you so much. I would do anything…I would give anything to hear you say my name again or sing me a song completely off tune. I was fitted for my wedding dress today. You would have loved it. What do I do? I wish you could tell me what to do. You always fixed things for me.” I bury my face against his chest and let a couple of long sobs rip from my soul. I desperately wish for him to hold me and tell me ‘I got you’, but he can’t.

  “I’m sorry all of this is random. I’m sorry there’s no order or sense to my thoughts, but I’m broken right now and the only person who can fix it is you. I just…I love you so much. Those words can’t describe what it is that I feel for you, but they are all I got. I don’t want to say goodbye, Holden. I can’t do it.” I bury my face into his neck and breathe him in one last time.

  “Carsten, sweetie, let me help you down. It’s time to go.” Walter’s voice breaks.

  I know this is hard for him too, but I don’t want to let go of him. I know if I hold on it will only be worse for everyone else. Nodding my head, I take Walter’s hand, as he helps me down from the bed. The doctor stands at the foot of the bed with his eyes focused on his watch. One by one, the machines are turned off. I watch, as Holden breathes his last breath and takes mine with him.

  I will never breathe again. My lungs may inflate purely out of survival instinct, but I won’t breathe. I can’t, not without him. The doctor calls the time of death. Carol breaks down and Walter walks her from the room. I look down at Holden one last time and press my lips against his forehead.

  “I love you. Forever and always, until the last star burns out.”

  Chapter 20

  I stare blankly at the white wall in front of me. I notice one of the pictures is slightly crooked. It reads, “Tough times never last, but tough people do.” I guess it is supposed to be inspirational. It doesn’t inspire me. I am numb. Click. Click. My head turns to where the clicking sound is coming from. She is sitting poised in her chair, with her leg crossed and holding a notepad in her hand. Click. Click. I sigh, not wanting to talk to her. I don’t want to talk to anyone. Click. Click.

  “Is that necessary?”

  “I’m sorry, Carsten. Does the sound of my pen clicking bother you? Do odd sounds bother you?” She pushes her glasses onto the bridge of her nose with her index finger. Her smile is soft, but it is as fake as her bleached blonde hair. I wonder if she knows her dark roots are starting to show.

  “No. Nothing bothers me.”

  “And how do you feel about that?” She clicks her pen once more, ready to take down notes on what horrid atrocities I am currently dealing with. I won’t talk to her about anything, let alone about him.

  “I told you, I don’t feel. I exist purely out of survival instincts. I feel nothing, not even the air filling my lungs.”

  “I can’t help you if you don’t give me something to go on. It’s been eight months. You haven’t cried since the day you left the hospital. Please, let me help you.”

  “No. I’m fine. Is our hour over, yet?”

  She glances down at her watch and back up at me. Sighing, she asks, “Why even come?”

  “Because I promised Becca I would. She doesn’t like seeing me like this and she thought it would help. She didn’t want me to be alone after they moved to New York.”

  “She lives in New York now, doesn’t she? How would she know?”

  “She lives in the upper west side of New York City. I made her a promise to try it for a year.”

  “And will you continue to come? Will you keep that promise?”

  “I don’t know.” I shift my feet in my chair. I feel uncomfortable. I always feel uncomfortable now. It is as if my skin doesn’t fit me anymore. My puzzle is missing pieces. It is like a corner piece went missing, causing the whole puzzle to shift, sending pieces sliding into each other, knocking everything out of place. I have huge holes I will never be able to fix. I am not the same person I was. She died eight months ago.

  Sighing, she stands and walks over to her desk. She writes something down on a card and hands it to me. “I want you to come because you want to. If you are only coming to appease someone else, this will never work. I want to help you. I know you are in pain right now. Don’t push it down, Carsten. It will only get worse.” Looking down at the card, I notice our appointment time for next week.

  “See you later, Doctor Langley.” Standing, I slip the card into my back pocket. I head straight to the parking lot. I squint at the bright sun shining down on me. The shadows of the orange leaves dance on the sidewalk in the breeze. Children are laughing and chasing each other at the park. A few birds chirp behind me. I sink farther into the darkness. I wish for rain and cloudy skies. No amount of sunshine will ever warm me again.

  *****

  I can hear Janel answer the phone in her office, as I walk into the studio. Tossing my purse onto my desk, I grab a clean canvas and make myself comfortable on my stool. My paintbrush dips into the brown paint. The only time I remotely feel alive is when I am painting. My hand moves out of memory. I am so lost. My emotions pay no part in my art anymore. No matter how I start, the paint, the picture, they all become him and I die a little more each time.

  Two white trees lay in the dark woods, a deep blue sky crawls across the top of the canvas, swirling around two bright diamonds in the sky. My thumb presses against the course canvas, wiping away one of the stars. The brightness falls from the painting, casting a shadow on the other star. It is so alone.

  My head drops to my chest. The pain reaches deep into my soul, grabbing it and twisting it. I let go of a silent scream, as I wrap my arms around myself, rocking back and forth. No tears fall. They never do. There is no release, just hollow, empty screams. I gasp for air. My lungs inflate, but I don’t want them to. I just want him.

  Out of a fit of rage, I throw my easel across the room. Colors and splinter
ed wood cast themselves across the floor. I can’t bear the thought of hurting him, what if he is there? What if he is waiting for me by the trees? My hand slowly reaches for the canvas lying on its side near my feet. It’s perfect. No smudges, or any trace of its volatile creator.

  Carefully picking up the canvas, I carry it to the gallery. I gently set it by the others. There are too many to hang. Fields of wildflowers, starry night skies, and silhouettes of a brown-haired boy fill the room. I can’t let go of him. He surrounds me everywhere I go.

  “You really have to stop breaking the easels. This is the third one this month.”

  I can hear Janel behind me, but I don’t look at her. There is something about eye contact that bothers me now. Maybe it is the way you can see into someone’s soul, or a connection I don’t want anymore, I can’t decide. It could be both.

  “It’s beautiful.” Janel stands beside me, knowing better than to touch me. “Have you talked to him?”

  “No.”

  “Sweetie, I love you. I really do, but don’t you think it would help to talk to someone who knows what it’s like to lose the person you lo—”

  “I said, no. What can he do? Can he fix this? Can he make the pain stop? No one can do that. Janel, I woke up this morning and I could feel the warmth on my skin lingering from a dream.”

  “You know I have an open mind to things. Have you ever considered it might be Holden? He loved you so much. Maybe he’s still here with you.”

  Walking away from her, I head back to my office. I am flipping through my daily planner, going over my schedule, when she sits on the edge of my desk.

  “You can’t shut me out forever, Carsten. One day, you’ll have to deal with all of this and I don’t think you’re going to be ready for it.” She sighs and sticks a bright yellow sticky note on my planner. “They won’t stop calling, and to be honest I hope they don’t. This isn’t just about your art anymore; this is about you. New York could be a place where you can start over. Just think about it.” She taps the note, before jumping off my desk and walking out of the room.

  I stare at the note. Peter Brighton, New York Academy of Art. I have politely declined the last two times we spoke. He knows someone interested in opening a new art gallery. He swears this one would be different. The goal is for the gallery to open in New York City, as well as expand to include sister galleries in Los Angeles, Atlanta, Chicago, and eventually London. I admit, it does piqué my interest, but I am not ready for anything remotely ambitious right now. I want to stay close to him. Right now, all I have are my dreams and our apartment. If I leave, then I leave him. I leave us. Shaking my head, I close my planner. I toss it into my purse and knock on Janel’s door, letting her know that I am leaving for the day.

  *****

  It is just after five by the time I get home. Tossing my purse onto the kitchen counter, I grab a bottle of water from the fridge. I am not hungry, but I should probably eat. My clothes are continually becoming looser on me. I am not trying to lose weight; I just don’t have an appetite anymore. Grabbing a couple of pieces of bread, I throw a piece of lunch meat between them. I force myself to take a couple of bites and chug down my water. I grab a couple of sleeping pills from the cabinet and toss them down the back of my throat.

  I walk into our bedroom and grab some of his clothes from the drawer. His scent is fading, so I spray some of his cologne on them. At this point, I am sure that I am only torturing myself, but I need him, and this is as close as I get. Grabbing a towel, I head to the shower. The hot water scalds my skin. I bask in it. When the water runs cold, I step out and wrap myself in a towel.

  My eyes glance at the mirror and another searing pain stabs me in my heart. Our initials in hearts and all the little notes we would write to each other in the steam are now plainly visible, including a small heart with forever written in it. It was the last one he wrote. I don’t clean the mirror.

  I brush the knots from my hair, throw on his clothes, and slip into bed. Pulling his pillow close to my chest, I curl into a ball, while silent screams torture me until sleep finally claims me.

  *****

  The sun is so much warmer here. I can’t see him yet, but I know that he is here. I can feel it. My fingers brush along the long blades of grass beside my blanket. Rolling onto my back, I stare up at the blue sky with small, white, puffy clouds slowly passing over me. A spiced scent with a hint of citrus takes my breath away. The pain in my chest eases and I smile.

  “There’s my girl.”

  Turning my head, I see Holden lay down beside me. His long sleeve flannel shirt is open, baring the white t-shirt underneath. My hand cautiously reaches out towards him. I am afraid he will disappear. The soft cotton of his shirt is soft against my skin. My palm slides over his chest and I curl my body against his. I can feel the soft rise and fall of his chest. His hand brushes against my skin and I bury my face into him.

  “Ssh. I got you. It’s alright, baby. I’m here.”

  “But you aren’t.”

  “I am. I promise, baby. I’m right here.” He presses his warms lips to my temple. I close my eyes and wish for his lips to find mine. “Carsten, look at me.”

  Lifting my head, my eyes meet his. Chocolate pools swirl with bits of amber. I’m so lost in him. “I love you, Holden. Don’t leave me.”

  “I love you too, baby. Forever and always, until the last star burns out.” His hand reaches up towards my face, I press my cheek against it, but I can’t feel him anymore. I watch as he fades away, leaving me lost and alone in a field of wildflowers.

  *****

  My heart slams in my chest, jolting me awake. A gasp leaves my lips, as I suck in the air around me. My lungs finally inflate, slowing my heart rate just enough for me to focus on my surroundings. “No. No. No.” I scream, as I realize that I am still in our bed, alone and broken. I fall back onto my pillow and pull his closer to my chest again. It smells of him, but it is not the same as him being here. Sweat beads on my forehead and the walls in my room begin to close in. I am losing my mind. Grabbing the phone from the nightstand, I call Rebecca. My eyes glance at the alarm clock. It is three-thirty AM. God; I hope she answers.

  It rings five times before she picks up. “Hello?” Her voice cracks and I know that I have woken her. “Hello? Carsten, honey. I know it’s you. Are you alright? Carsten, damn it, answer me.”

  “He was here. I could feel him.”

  “Honey.”

  “Please, don’t patronize me, Becca. I know he was here. My skin was still warm from the sun and I could smell him as I woke up. But, it faded and now he’s gone. He left me.” My voice shakes and for just a split second I feel as though I might cry and get relief, but instead my heart sinks further in my chest, as I cling to the phone, hoping my friend can save me from all of this.

  “I don’t…I don’t know what to say to that. It hurts me to hear you like this. Are you still seeing Doctor Langley?”

  “Yes, but only because I promised you.”

  “Okay. What does she say about this?”

  “I’m not crazy, Becca. I’m hurting. There’s a difference.” Fuck her if she thinks some shrink is going to fix this. “My soul was shattered and I keep getting cut on the pieces. It’s not like you can tape the pieces back together with words of inspiration. Can you for just one second, indulge me?”

  “Fine, but I still don’t think it’s healthy for you to torture yourself.” She pauses and waits for my response, but there isn’t one. After a few moments of silence, she sighs into the phone.

  “What did he say this time?”

  “He said he’s got me, and he loves me. He also said he’s right here. If he’s right here, why can’t I feel him anymore?”

  “I don’t know, Cars.”

  “Becca, I don’t want to wake up anymore. I just want to stay in my dreams. I just want to stay with him.” I instantly regret my choice of words. She won’t understand.

  “Carsten, you’re worrying me. What are you saying?”

/>   “Nothing. It’s late. You need your sleep. I love you. Night, Becca.” My finger presses the button on the receiver before she can respond. It is not what she thinks. I am not going to end my life. I have thought about it, but there is no guarantee that he will be there when I die. At least, while I am alive I still have him in my dreams. The phone rings. I don’t answer it. I take it off the base and shove the receiver in the drawer. I don’t want to talk to anyone else right now.

  The bright red numbers on the clock now read four-ten AM. There is no point in going back to sleep, he won’t come back until tomorrow night. I have tried before and it doesn’t work. Once he leaves me for the night, he is gone until the next night.

  I start processing ideas for the gallery and going over the list of buyers to contact that Janel gave me in my head. There is no sense in lying in bed, so I get up and make myself a coffee before going over all my schemes and notes.

  I am lost in diagraming the arrangement of the next showing, when someone rings my doorbell. Looking up into the living room, I realize the sun is up. The day has started without me even noticing. The doorbell rings again. It is obvious that they aren’t going anywhere. I open the door and the world stops. It spins backwards to when I was sixteen and sitting in the truck I got for my birthday, while smiling at my parents standing on the front porch of my childhood home. I look at the man across from me and the world spins forward again, bringing me back to the reality of the hell I have found myself in.

  “Dad?”

  “Yeah. I just…I have called a couple times, you know, and uh...well, your friend Rebecca called me. She was really upset and was afraid you had done something…and I couldn’t handle that, so…I’m here.” Shocked. It is the only word to describe how I feel at this exact moment in time. Completely frozen in my stance, I stare back at him.

  His pitch-black hair is now peppered with silver. It is parted to one side and slicked back. He runs his hand across it and then adjusts the blue tie hanging loosely around his neck. My eyes glance over him again. My dad is standing in front of me in a white dress shirt with a blue tie around his collar. His brown dress slacks are neatly pressed, his black dress shoes are polished, and he is holding a yellow flower in his hand.