Breathing For The First Time

by Mary E Thompson

  Shit, I’m an idiot. Not the way to go about fighting for him. “No, it’s not that. I thought you were Paige. She’s supposed to be calling today to set up a dress search weekend.” I pause, mustering all the courage I have, “I’m glad you called.”

  “Oh, good. Um, how’s the wedding planning going?”

  Great, small talk. He’s away for a month, coming back tomorrow, and we’re reduced to small talk.

  “It’s great. Paige is really excited, of course. She’s lucky. Dante is perfect for her and they are great together. She’s really happy.”

  “What about you, Brooke? Are you happy?”

  His voice fills me with hope, but the familiar doubt of everything going on creeps in. He’s heading straight to serious now. First small talk, and now this. I guess I thought there would be a middle ground. “Right now, Ty, no. I’m not happy.” Time to start the fight, “I miss you. Everything is screwed up around us, but I still miss you. I want to be with you, and have you tell me we’ll figure all this out together.”

  Tyler exhales loudly and I fear I’ve pushed too far. I guess I should have waited until he told me that things are going great with Rachel and avoided the embarrassing declaration.

  “Good,” he tells me. “I was hoping you would say that. Listen, I’ll be home tomorrow. Do you think I could come over? I’d really like to see you.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe I won’t have to fight so hard. “Yeah, that would be great.”

  *******

  Why does this feel like a blind date? Or at least a first date? I’m anxious like I was before our first study session. Heck, our first date I was at ease. Why am I a wreck now?

  Tyler’s flight was supposed to land a little over an hour ago. I didn’t think to ask him how he was getting home from the airport, but I’m assuming one of his roommates picked him up. Hopefully he’ll be here soon.

  I busy myself with organizing my books and cleaning the kitchen. I find myself watching the clock, counting the minutes as they pass by.

  I change the sheets on my bed, unsure why I’m bothering. Tyler and I are not going to have sex tonight. Even if I am going to fight for him, he’s just spent a month with Rachel, doing God knows what, and I’m not willing to jump back into bed with him. At least it will feel good to lie down on clean sheets tonight.

  I finally drop to my couch and flip on the TV. I’m not really watching it, but at least the noise is keeping me from hearing the voices bouncing around in my head telling me I’m crazy.

  A knock on the door makes me jump, even though I’ve been waiting for his knock for hours. I take a deep breath and push myself off the couch. I twist the knob and open the door.

  Tyler looks exactly the same as the last time I saw him. His blue baseball style t-shirt matches the brilliance in his eyes and the cargo shorts he’s wearing give me the chance to admire his amazing calves. His biceps bulge under the fabric of his shirt as he shifts his weight. He gives me a look that say he’s happy to be here, but feels awkward.

  I step back to let him pass me. He leans down when he steps through the door and drops a kiss on my cheek. The familiar burn of our skin meeting warms my entire body.

  I close the door and turn to face Tyler. He looks just as uncomfortable as I feel. I follow his glance around the room and remember him pressing me against the wall for a kiss, pulling me in tight in front of the TV to hug me, and cooking naked in the kitchen. I shake my head, unable to clear thoughts of the man standing in front of me. Then I remember I don’t want to.

  I step toward him, looking up to him from under my lashes. His expression changes to one of curiosity before heating up just before my lips touch his. Tyler wraps his familiar arms around me and pulls me tight to him. All the desire I’ve felt for him over the last month spills over into our kiss and I feel the same passion pouring from him. I pull him in closer, letting myself get wrapped into him.

  After an endless kiss, I pull back from him and look into his eyes. “I’m really happy you’re back.” I tell him. He smiles at me and pulls me back to him for a hug. The world feels like it’s right again now that I’m back in his arms.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Tyler

  Being back here with Brooke again has felt so right. I missed her when I was in Texas, but it never occurred to me that life could be this perfect. It almost feels like we picked up where we left off, like I hoped.

  Unfortunately she’s gone now though. It’s her shopping weekend with Paige and Tiffany. She was really excited about this. We’ve only had two weeks together since I’ve been home with her, but I couldn’t ask her to miss this weekend. Plus, it’ll only be a few days.

  Brooke left early this morning but gave me a key to her apartment so I could stay here while she’s gone. Yesterday was July 4th and we spent the day together. Her apartment is feeling like home again, and we’re getting back to normal.

  The only thing missing is our sex life. It’s pretty shitty of me to be missing it, but after the way she kissed me when I got back I thought everything would go back to how it was before. Instead, we’re skirting around anything sexual. I love being with her, but I miss sharing that part of our relationship. But I’m not going to push. I know she’s still hurt, and I wouldn’t dare mess this up. There’s nothing that is going to keep us apart again.

  Brooke has asked a few questions about my trip, and about the baby. I didn’t go into much detail about it all, knowing she’s just asking to be polite. A part of me would love to tell her about the ultrasound and seeing the baby, but it was a moment I shared with Rachel, a moment I don’t think Brooke would want to hear about.

  Brooke keeps asking me about Texas though, and I’m starting to wonder what she’s after. At first it felt like she was being curious, but lately I’m wondering if she’s trying to figure out if there is more to it than there is. When she gets back we need to sit down and talk about everything.

  Maybe that’s why we’re not back to normal. Maybe she thinks something happened between Rachel and me.

  My phone lights up and I reach for it. Rachel’s name flashes across the screen and I slide to answer the call.

  “Hi, Rachel,” I say into the phone.

  “Tyler?” a familiar voice asks, but it’s not Rachel.

  “Yeah?” I respond, trying to place the voice.

  “Tyler, I’m sorry to bother you. This is Rachel’s mom, Heather. Rachel’s in the hospital. She came home last night and said she wasn’t feeling well. She went up to bed, but when I checked on her this morning, she was bleeding. We’re here now and the doctors are trying to figure out what’s going on.” Her voice comes out in a rush, like she’s trying to say everything before she runs out of courage.

  “The baby, is the baby okay?” My throat is dry, fear gripping me.

  Heather doesn’t answer right away. I hear her exhale and she says, “We don’t know yet.”

  She chokes back a sob and my heart skips.

  “Okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  I hang up the phone and panic. Shit, I’m 1000 miles away. I grab a bag and start throwing clothes in, barely paying attention to what I’m doing. I snatch my phone charger from the outlet in the kitchen and throw it in my bag, along with my toothbrush and toothpaste.

  I push through the door and lock Brooke’s apartment behind me. I climb in my truck, a daze still heavily covering me. I drive to the airport and pull into a parking space, leaping from the truck almost before I turn it off.

  I shove my keys into my pockets and secure my backpack on before racing toward the airport. I find an open station and ask for the next flight out. The concerned look on the attendant’s face slams me back to reality. I slow down and explain the situation, and my urgent need for a flight.

  The tension eases from her face as she searches for flights. Seeing I only have one small bag she tells me there is a seat on the flight leaving in 30 minutes. She books me on it and calls the gate, asking them to wait for me.

&
nbsp; I quickly pass through security, saying a silent prayer of thanks for the small airport. I run from security to the gate where they are waiting for me to board the plane. The attendant greets me and I hear the door slam behind me as I walk down the ramp to the waiting plane.

  I settle into my seat and try not to freak out. I close my eyes and realize I should have called Brooke and my dad. I can’t think right now, I just have to pray Rachel and the baby are okay.

  I call my dad on the layover and tell him what’s going on. He says he’s going to meet me at the airport, which calms me down a little.

  I tried to reach Brooke also, but she didn’t answer her phone. I left her a scattered message, not really making any sense. I’ll call her again when I find out what’s going on with Rachel.

  A few hours later I shield my eyes against the late afternoon Louisiana sun. I squint against the light and look for dad’s truck. He pulls to a stop in front of me and I jump in, setting my backpack at my feet. Dad looks shaken as he pulls the truck back into traffic.

  We get to the hospital around four o’clock. I ask for Rachel’s room and the nurses direct us to the fifth floor. The elevator doors open in front of the nurse’s station and before I can ask what room, Heather walks up to us. She wraps me in a hug and thanks me for coming. Her gaze passes over my dad and she smiles at him, too, thanking him for being there as well.

  I ask about Rachel, unsure what is going on.

  “She’s in surgery now. After I talked to you the doctor told me they would have to take her into surgery. I’m sorry, Tyler, they did everything they could, but she’s lost the baby.”

  I feel like someone punched me in the chest. The air in the room suddenly seems like it’s not enough. I stumble, but my dad catches me. He leads me to a chair a few feet away. Dad asks Heather what happened.

  “They don’t really know. Her doctor told her she could continue with her normal routine so she was going on with her life. She went out with friends yesterday for the Fourth. She met them for lunch and they were going to watch the fireworks together. It was some old friends from high school, people she really hadn’t been in touch with lately.

  “I told her to be careful and to rest if she got tired. She assured me she would be fine. When she came home she said she was tired and didn’t feel well, but I didn’t think much of it. She went straight upstairs to bed.”

  Heather looks at me, sorrow clear in her eyes. She blames herself; I can see it.

  “I checked on her before I went to sleep. She was on her side, but she’d kicked the covers off. I figured she was hot. In the morning I went in again and she didn’t look like she had moved all night long. Then I saw the blood on the sheets. I called 911 and they brought her here in an ambulance.”

  Heather looks from my dad to me, “They think she might have been dehydrated. It can cause early labor. Between the heat yesterday and her probably not drinking enough water, that’s their guess, but they aren’t positive.”

  Heather’s eyes land squarely on me, “Sometimes these things just aren’t meant to be.”

  She doesn’t mean we lost the baby so Rachel and I wouldn’t be tied together. Could she? No, I can’t imagine that about my child. Or, what would have been my child. She looks like she knows what’s going on, but how could she wish this on her daughter? Unless Rachel hasn’t been happy either.

  We all sit in silence, trying to digest the news and cope in our own ways. My dad ends up in the chapel, no doubt praying for Rachel and the baby. Heather sits in the waiting room, jumping every time the door opens in case it’s the doctor with news about Rachel. I pace the floor.

  I feel so confused right now. I never wanted this baby, but now I feel like it’s my fault that it’s been taken from us. If I had wanted it, maybe Rachel wouldn’t be in surgery. Maybe the baby would be okay.

  I can’t be mad at Rachel. I’m sure she was trying to be responsible, but summers are brutal. I’ve been dehydrated frequently in the summer, and she likely didn’t realize how much more important it is when you’re pregnant. Hell, I didn’t know either.

  It’s not Heather’s fault either. If she had pushed Rachel, they probably would have gotten into a fight. Sickness early in a pregnancy is normal.

  I know I’m to blame. I know it’s my fault. I put a lot of stress on Rachel with my indecision. We were trying to figure it all out. I wanted to be with Brooke, I still do. But I couldn’t bring myself to desert Rachel and our baby.

  Now, I guess I don’t have to worry about that. But Rachel is left alone. And my apathy about our child killed the baby.

  Sadly, my only thought now is that I wish Brooke were here. That’s all I can think of. I need her in my life, now, and always.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Brooke

  I saw Tyler’s name come up on the screen, but I couldn’t answer. I’m driving and trying to navigate the streets in downtown Charleston. I’ll check my phone when I get to Paige’s apartment.

  I pull into the complex and walk the stairs up to Paige and Dante’s third floor apartment. I knock and hear someone yell to me from inside. I let myself in and am immediately hit by something that smells amazing. My stomach rumbles in anticipation. Paige and Tiffany are sitting on the couch and Dante is in the kitchen. My friends jump up and wrap me in a hug as soon as my bag hits the floor. Dante waves but stays in the kitchen.

  “So, how’s the bride to be? Are you ready to shop ‘til we drop?”

  “Oh, yes,” Paige answers, beaming at the idea of finding a wedding dress. I can’t stop myself from latching on to her excitement and let myself get swept away in the idea of a wedding.

  Dante finishes brunch and we all sit together in their kitchen. Paige and Dante lay out the wedding plans they’ve already figured out. I know Paige doesn’t want Dante to know anything about her dress so I avoid asking what she’s thinking. There will be time for that later.

  After brunch, Tiffany, Paige, and I pile into Dante’s SUV, ready to start shopping. Paige has appointments lined up all afternoon throughout the city to find the perfect dress. Her enthusiasm is infectious and I am excited about the day, too.

  The first store we go to is a small, local boutique. The dresses are stunning and Paige quickly gets pulled into the sea of white, cream, and ivory. Tiffany and I flip through the endless selection of gowns, handing Paige mermaid dresses, princess gowns, beaded, plain, satin, silk, and taffeta dreams.

  Paige tries on every dress we bring her. She’s a great sport but seems to be looking for something we haven’t found yet.

  Tiffany and I ooh and aah over everything Paige slips into. I find my mind drifting to a time when I might be searching for my own wedding dress, and start making mental notes. This day is about Paige, but I figure there’s no harm getting a head start.

  Let’s see, princess dresses make your hips look wide with the poof of the skirt starting at your hips. It looks great on Paige with her narrow waist and small frame. A mermaid dress slims all over thanks to the flare below the knees. But I think the a-line dress is my favorite. It hides your waist and hips and accents your chest. That will work well for me since Tyler is a breast man.

  Okay, I need to stop thinking about marrying Tyler, we aren’t there yet. Back to Paige.

  After two hours of dresses, Paige declares none of them are right. “With Dante, I knew it was right. I had no doubt I wanted him in my life. I want my dress to be the same way. I’ll know it’s the right one when I find it. But I haven’t yet.”

  Tiffany and I restock the store while Paige gets dressed. Paige thanks the shop owner and says she has a few more places but might be back. She has her eye on a veil and tiara in there.

  Three shops later Paige is getting frustrated. “It took you 22 years to find Dante, it might take a little while to find the perfect dress,” Tiffany tells her.

  We decide to take a break from shopping to get coffee. When crash into our seats, happy to be resting for a few minutes. Paige says, “Okay, I need a distr
action. Who has something to tell me so I can enjoy this instead of being frustrated about dresses?”

  “Don’t get frustrated. You’ll find the right dress. Did you ever picture your perfect wedding dress? What did it look like?” I ask Paige, hoping we can gain some insight into what she’s looking for. Just about every woman has imagined her wedding dress, and hopefully Paige knows what she wants.

  Paige sighs, releasing some of the tension from her face. She screws up her nose, “I guess I always imagined a dress like my mom’s. I mean, not exactly like hers, but something similar. It was a pretty simple dress, a satin body with a full skirt. Hers had sleeves, which I don’t want, but I love her insanely long train. She wore a tiara instead of a veil, and it was beautiful.”

  Tiffany and I exchange looks, unsure what to say. We haven’t been looking at anything close to that. No wonder she hasn’t found it. It sounds like a princess dress, but most of the ones we’ve shown her had embroidery or lace on the bodice.

  “Why didn’t you try any on like that?” Tiffany asks.

  Paige drops her head and swallows a drink of her coffee before she continues. “We’re planning a pretty casual wedding. The ceremony is going to be at a small chapel downtown and the reception is in our friend’s backyard. It’s not like we’re having a fancy wedding. As much as I love the idea of that dress, I know it would be over the top.”

  Paige has always been somewhat practical, and I know this isn’t about money. She’s never been concerned about what others think. “Paige, it’s your wedding! If there is ever a time to feel like a princess and have the most stunning dress around, it’s on your wedding day. Who cares if you’re overdressed? Everyone else will be underdressed really. It’s all about you. Don’t worry about appearances!”

  Paige smiles slightly, testing me. “Are you sure? I don’t want to look silly?”

  Tiffany jumps in, “Heck yeah. Be the stunning creature you want to be. There’s no rule saying you can only get the princess dress if you’re getting married in front of 500 strangers in a cathedral the size of the city. The rule is, you do what you want to do.”