Just Remember to Breathe

by Charles Sheehan-Miles

  She threw a glare at my father, muttered, “God!,” then stomped upstairs.

  “Well, then,” my father said, in the same oddly formal tone and language he always used. “Let’s move ourselves into the dining room, and perhaps Sarah might join us later.”

  He led the way into the dining room, with Julia and Crank behind them, and me and Jessica trailing. The dining room was set with my mother’s best china, which my father purchased for her during the two years we lived in Beijing, just before I started high school.

  My mother entered from the other direction. She’d set the table, brought the food in, then stepped out to “freshen up” as she liked to say. Now she hovered over us, providing unfortunate stage directions.

  Normally, my father would be at the head of the table and my mom at the foot. Crank and Julia would be closest to dad, facing each other. Carrie and I would take the center two seats, and the twins would be relegated to the foot of the table with our mother.

  Unfortunately, it seemed that the war raging between the twins was throwing a twist in things. To minimize conflict, Sarah sat to my left next to dad, and Carrie to my right. Across from us, Jessica was next to mom at the far end of the table from her twin, and Crank and Julia were next to each other.

  Julia met my eyes as we sat and gave me a warm smile. Crank, sitting across from the blank seat where Sarah would be, grinned and launched into a conversation with my dad about foreign policy of all things. If he’d opened up a conversation with a brain surgeon by talking about the complex anatomy of the brain, I wouldn’t have been more surprised.

  What happened next surprised me more. My dad answered, not only in a calm and reasonable tone, but actually seemed to warm to the gesture. Within minutes, the two were buried in a discussion of Chinese economic policy, which was my father’s specialization.

  “Well,” my mother said to Carrie. “Isn’t this nice? We’ll give Sarah another minute or so, then go ahead and serve.”

  Rather than add a third conversation to the table, Julia and I both stayed relatively quiet.

  Then Sarah walked in.

  She’d changed into a dress, as my father had asked. But I didn’t think this was what he had in mind. First of all, she’d also put on makeup. Thick black eyeliner, black eyeshadow, and black lipstick. She was wearing the black lace dress which she’d worn to Uncle Rafael’s funeral two years ago, and which decidedly didn’t fit her now. Her breasts were practically spilling out of the dress, and it was quite visible that she was wearing a black lace bra underneath.

  I caught my breath, waiting for the inevitable explosion. My father gave her a cutting glance, but said nothing, instead choosing to return to his conversation with Crank, who brought up the problem the band was having: massive quantities of counterfeit memorabilia being manufactured in China and sold worldwide. The problem had really taken off after the band’s second album went gold.

  “I understand a little piracy, you know?” Crank was saying. “I’ve been dirt poor. But this isn’t like a couple of bootleg albums, it’s whole factories turning out stuff that looks just like ours. And that’s a big part of how we make our living.”

  My dad nodded. “Really, this was one of the biggest issues I worked on during my last few years with the Foreign Service. It’s part of the reason I was appointed to the ambassador slot. But I have to tell you, the Chinese government really isn’t interested in cooperating.”

  Sarah was crushed. It was clear enough that she’d expected, even wanted the explosion. Instead, both my father and mother ignored her. As she walked into the room and made her way to her seat, Jessica sneered at her.

  Sarah shot Jessica a dirty look and took her seat to my left. But Crank fixed it with one simple and easy motion. He gave Sarah a big, obvious wink, and a smile. She instantly brightened, much to my parents’s displeasure.

  “Well then,” my father said. “Let’s eat. Adelina, will you say grace?”

  We took each other’s hands, and my mother said a short prayer. All of us said, or mouthed, “Amen” at the end.

  My father began to serve the meal. I leaned toward Carrie and whispered, “Dad and Crank seem to be almost … Chummy?”

  She whispered back, “I think Julia gave dad a look at Crank’s bank account since the latest album.”

  I snickered, and my mother said, “Girls, I realize you’ve been away in college, but you must remember your manners.”

  I nodded an apology. Carrie was 26 years old, a Ph.D. candidate at a major university, with a significant amount of published research already under her own name. I was certain that she was never referred to as a “girl” except here at this table.

  Somehow it didn’t sting much to be included under the same umbrella as Carrie.

  “Adelina, I heard the most disturbing news this morning. The Brewer’s son Randall has been arrested.”

  I froze in place, and underneath the table, Carrie gripped my thigh. Across from Carrie, Jessica’s eyes widened.

  “Good lord!” my mom said. “What happened?”

  “It seems he’s been accused of rape. I’m sure it’s not true … it’s probably one of those situations where they had too much to drink, and she regretted it after.”

  I froze, unable to think, unable to breath.

  “It’s terrible,” my father said. “After dinner, I think it would be appropriate for us all to go visit the Brewers. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen them, and it would be good to pay our respects, and offer what help we can.”

  “No,” I said, the word escaping from my mouth.

  Carrie gripped my thigh tighter, and Jessica’s mouth dropped open. Julia and Crank stared at me, and my father did a double take. It was my mother, however, who responded.

  “Alexandra, I realize that despite our efforts, you never liked Randy. But you will behave courteously at this table. And you will go with us, as your father has suggested. He’s a nice young man. I’m sure this accusation is nothing more than scurrilous.”

  I leaned forward in my seat, my stomach cramping, and found myself grinding my teeth, trying to hold back a rage I’d never before experienced. I could feel it sweeping down my body, and for a second I wanted to smash something, anything.

  “Your mother is right,” my Dad said. “If it were up to me, you would have abandoned your puppy love for that soldier years ago, and married Randy.”

  I was paralyzed. I couldn’t say anything, because if I started, I was never going to be able to stop. I reached out, tried to pick up my wine glass, and ended up spilling it instead. Now everyone in my family was staring at me, alternately in shock at my strange behavior, or, in the case of Jessica and Carrie, just plain horror.

  My mother jumped to her feet, running to grab several napkins, which we used to sop up the spilled wine. As we finished, my father said, “I trust this conversation is over.”

  I shook my head.

  “Excuse me?”

  I looked at him, no longer able to hold it all back. A tear streamed down my face. “I don’t go anywhere near his parents. Or his house. Do you understand me?” The bitterness and rage in my tone surprised even me.

  “I don’t understand,” my mother interjected. “Whatever has gotten into you, Alexandra? Randy Brewer is a perfectly nice young man—“

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake!” Carrie cried out. “Can’t you see what you’re doing to her? When did you two become so clueless?”

  “Well, I don’t…” my mother started to say, then trailed off.

  My father’s tone was ice. “How dare you speak to us in that manner, young lady.”

  Carrie turned on him, rage in her eyes. “How dare you continue hurting your own daughter like that?” she shouted. “Can’t you see it? Even if you don’t know the details, can’t you see the pain you’re causing her? For God’s sake, that poor nice young man you’re talking about sexually assaulted your daughter twice!”

  Oh, God. Carrie, why did you blurt that out at the dinner table. I stared
in horror, meeting first Julia’s eyes, then, for just a second, my father’s. Then I buried my face in my hands.

  “I’m sorry, Alex, I know I told you I wouldn’t tell them anything. But if you won’t, I will. I won’t have them torturing you.”

  My mother, in shock, said, “Carrie, we would never hurt her….”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about, mother! Until you find out, can you kindly shut up!”

  Utter silence descended on the dinner table.

  Sarah turned to me, and in a faint, gentle voice said, “Alex, I know you’re afraid. But we’re your family. Let me tell them.”

  I buried my face in my hands and began sobbing. Sarah moved over and put her arms around me, burying her face and hair in my shoulder, and Carrie put her hand on the other shoulder and said, in a very quiet voice, “Randy tried to rape her in his room last spring. But his roommates intervened. She didn’t file a complaint, or tell anyone. But a couple weeks ago, it happened again. He assaulted her at a party. Dylan Paris pulled Randy off her, and they fought, and … Dylan beat up Randy. He ended up being charged with assault. But you need to hear me father. I know you don’t like Dylan. I know you never have. But he saved your daughter. So you better swallow your dislike. You better just keep it to yourself. Because when the police charged Dylan with assault, they just let Randy Brewer go. And so he went, and followed a girl home, and raped her.”

  I started crying harder.

  “I didn’t know,” my father said.

  I clenched my fists and looked up at him, rage rushing through me. “You didn’t know? You knew Dylan was injured last spring! You knew the reason he didn’t write me was because he couldn’t, because he was so badly hurt! You knew! And you didn’t tell me!”

  My mother gasped. “Alexandra, you don’t know that.”

  “Yes, I do! Dad wrote him. He told Dylan to stay away from me, that he wasn’t good enough for me.” I turned on my father. “When the man I loved was in the hospital near death, about to lose his leg, you kicked him while he was down! And you lied to me about it! Don’t talk to me about what you knew or didn’t know, dad. Don’t ever talk about what you knew.”

  Dad’s face had gone completely pale. Julie looked at him, disgust in her face, and said, “Is this true?”

  Dad closed his eyes, then nodded once. After a long time, he muttered, “Perhaps I was wrong.”

  Carrie took my hand, and said, “You can be sorry all you want, Dad. But right now, this family has a problem. Because Dylan and Alex love each other. And you’ve got a choice, dad. You can keep up your pretense, keep trying to script all of our lives right down to who we love. Or you can get behind your family and support them. Alex, let’s go upstairs. You don’t need this right now.”

  She pulled me up and I followed her, still in shock.

  “Stop,” my father said. Carrie’s back went straight, and I turned, facing him.

  He looked different. Smaller somehow. Less sure of himself. I took a deep breath, ready to shout a denial in his face, when he said, “It’s true? Dylan … he … intervened and stopped Randy from assaulting you?”

  I nodded, slowly.

  He returned my nod, then said, “Well. It seems I’ve misjudged your young man. And … Alex… I’m sorry. I’m not going to ask for your forgiveness. Not now. But … I will ask you to allow me a chance. To make up for it.”

  My lower lip started trembling uncontrollably, and he blurred in my vision. I looked at my dad, and nodded. That was all he needed to hear. He came around the table and took me in his arms. Then I felt my sisters surround me, even Jessica and Sarah, as they all put their arms around me in a huge hug. I felt the muscles in my body go limp as my family held me up, enfolding me, somehow making the pain smaller, more manageable.

  What seemed like a long time passed before we broke up, then resumed our seats at the table. My mother had tears in her eyes, as I did.

  Crank smiled at me, then playfully said, “That’s what I love about family dinners. There’s never a dull moment.”

  That’s when the doorbell rang.

  My mother muttered, “Dear God, who can that be? Dinner will be ice cold before anyone gets more than a bite.”

  “I’ll get it,” Sarah said, just as Jessica stood up. They looked at each other, the first look I’d seen between them in two days that wasn’t a glare. Then, wordlessly, they both left the dining room.

  Two minutes later, I heard Sarah call from the front door. “Alexandra! You need to come to the door!”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  On index cards? (Dylan)

  “This is it,” I told the cab driver. The meter said forty-five dollars. Christ on a crutch. I passed the driver the money, then opened the door and slid out. I only had a small backpack on me. Leaving New York, I figured a change or two of clothes would be more than enough. This might be a very short trip, after all. And even if it wasn’t, I could always figure out something for clothes. Waiting for an hour to get luggage when I could be here instead? That was something else entirely.

  I stared at the house in front of me. Jesus, how it had intimidated me when I visited her two years ago. Working class me, growing up in crappy apartments with drunk parents. How did I dare to chase after the rich daughter of an ambassador with a five story house in the heart of the most expensive city in America? I was nuts.

  Not nuts enough, not then. I’d let her life, her father, my past, all of it, intimidate me.

  I took a deep breath, then walked forward and firmly rung the doorbell.

  Jesus, I hoped Sherman had pulled it off and kept Alex here. It would not go well for me if her father answered while she was out at the movies or something.

  I heard the pounding of footsteps, and then the door opened suddenly, and I was faced with two open-mouthed sixteen year olds.

  “Hey,” I said uncomfortably. “You must be Sarah and Jessica… I don’t know if you remember me, I’m Dylan.”

  The darker one, who wore a dress which would make a nun blush, put her hands over her face in shock. The other one, in a white dress, said, “I remember you. And yes, I’m Jessica.”

  Her twin, Sarah, turned around and shouted up the stairs. “Alex! You need to come to the door!”

  I grinned. “Awesome. Um… I don’t know if I’ll see you again, because I don’t know if Alex is going to tell me to go to hell. If she does… well, it was great to see you.”

  Jessica leaned forward and whispered, “Are you here to try to get her back?”

  I nodded, and she said, still quietly, “She still loves you.”

  I closed my eyes and said, “Thank you.”

  Then I saw her, slowly descending the steps. I felt tension grab me by the throat. She was wearing a white sleeveless dress, embroidered with roses. Around her neck was a heart pendant necklace that I’d given her two years before. That was possibly a hopeful sign. Her mouth was slightly open as she approached the door. I could see she was cautious. She was afraid of me. Afraid I’d hurt her again.

  I took a deep breath, drinking in the sight of her, then said, “I um… I was hoping we could talk, so I thought I’d stop by.”

  Her mouth quirked up in a half smile on the right side. “You thought you’d stop by? Four thousand miles away?”

  “Distance wasn’t really a factor in my mind.”

  She looked at me, and whispered, “I can’t do this if you’re going to hurt me again, Dylan.”

  Oh, God. I swallowed, then said, “Will you just … hear me out? Please? If I’m wrong, and you tell me to go away, then I’ll go, and you’ll never have to hear from me again if you don’t want to. But I’m begging you, Alex. Give me a chance. Just hear me out.”

  “Okay,” she said in a small voice. She looked at her twins and said, “Can you tell Mom and Dad to continue dinner without me? And not to come down here under any circumstances?”

  The twins nodded simultaneously, and Alex stepped outside, with me, and shut the door behind her. She took a seat
on the front stoop, carefully sweeping her dress underneath her.

  “Sit down,” she said, indicating the space next to her on the stoop. I nodded. My heart was thumping with nervousness. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt like this, unless it was the night I first asked her out an eternity ago. Christ, I was terrified. What if she said no? What if she told me to go to hell, to get out of her life? Or worse, what if she said yes, and then we ended up hating each other later?

  Damn it, I thought. Stop that. Just do it. Go for it. For once in your life, step the hell out of yourself and say what you mean.

  “Okay,” I said. “Look, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, a lot of writing. About what you said. About … me, and who I am. About you. About us.”

  She nodded, listening.

  “I’m not very good at this, Alex. But … it’s something I have to do, okay. I’ve got some things to say, and I’m asking you to hear me out, without interruption, all the way through.”

  “Without interruption?”

  I nodded. “I don’t want to lose my train of thought, all right? Please? When I get to the end, you can ask me questions, or tell me go take a hike, or whatever, all right?”

  She gave me a sardonic smile, and said, “Okay. You set the rules. No interruptions.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  I took a deep breath, then felt in my pocket, which was filled with index cards. I took them out.

  “Wait,” she said, grinning, her eyes bright. “You wrote this down? On index cards?”

  “I don’t want to forget anything,” I said. “I told you, I’m not very good this. So I wrote down some notes to keep me focused, okay?”

  “Wow,” she said. She had a half smile on her face.

  “You’re interrupting.”