Reason to Breathe (Breathing 1)

As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t be angry with Evan. I didn’t like that he upset Sara, but I knew it wasn’t his fault. He really had no idea what he was walking into. Could I continue to allow him to be a witness to my misery without an explanation? Knowing I wouldn’t ever tell him what came between Sara and me and that I could never confide in him if something were to happen to me again, only left me with one answer. I needed to give him up. I struggled with the decision, but it was something I always knew I’d have to do.

15. Relentless

“It’s nice to see you using such vibrant colors,” Ms. Mier noted as she stood behind me, admiring my painting. “You have always used such deep colors in the past, still with extraordinary results, but this is refreshing. Whatever’s changed, I like it.”

Then she walked on to the next easel. I leaned back and looked at the nearly completed portrait of the fall foliage. Before Ms. Mier approached, I was thinking that the colors were too bright and unrealistic. The paint brush in my hand was coated with a burnt orange, to fade the fiery hues on the canvas. I set the brush down and stared at the colors again. They were blinding to my dull eyes.

I continued to stare at the blur of colors until Ms. Mier asked everyone to begin cleaning up. Startled by the sudden movement, I looked around and clumsily began gathering my supplies. I caught Evan standing in the back of the room, by the photography supplies, watching me with concern. I continued cleaning up my unused paints, ignoring him.

“Do you want to study for the Anatomy test with me?” Evan asked when we left the room.

“Uh… no, I can’t,” I stumbled. “I have to work on the paper.”

“I can go with you.”

“No, that’s okay,” I said quickly, barely giving him a glance. “I think I’d rather be alone.”

“Okay,” he said slowly and continued down the hall when I stopped at my locker.

I was forced to look after him, reminding myself that closing him out was the right thing to do. The right thing felt horrible - my eyes followed him until he rounded the corner. My heart ached, and for a second I reconsidered my decision, but I shook it off and opened my locker.

Soccer practice was not only hard physically but emotionally as well. Having to interact with Sara without connecting was torturous. When we weren’t on the field, she remained as far away from me as she could. When we were on the field, she’d only pass to me when she didn’t have any other choice.

“Lauren, would you be able to give me a ride home today?” I asked when we were standing on the sidelines during one of the drills.

“Sure,” she answered without hesitation.

I kept walking alongside Lauren after practice, without looking at Evan as he waited for me by his car. I felt his eyes follow me to her car. I reminded myself again that it was for the best. But it didn’t help.

“Thank you for doing this,” I said to Lauren, ducking into her dark blue Volvo.

I had no idea what I was getting myself into when I asked Lauren to drive me home. She was very sweet, but she talked non-stop the entire drive. I heard about the homecoming dance and how Sara and Jason won homecoming king and queen, but neither had shown up. I tried to conceal my shock. She assumed I knew why they weren’t there and tried to get me to confess. She obviously hadn’t noticed Sara and I weren’t talking. Why did she think she was driving me home? I played it off and said that I didn’t know either.

Lauren went on about soccer and the upcoming game. She was obviously excited to make it to the championships as captain for her senior year. I was given the details of every college she applied to and how she was having a hard time deciding which she preferred. Did most girls talk this much? I tried to figure out how she breathed in-between each sentence. The topics blurred together like the scenery, and I was almost relieved when she stopped at my house, feeling exhausted after having listened to her.

“Thank you again, Lauren,” I said as I opened the car door.

“If you want a ride home tomorrow, let me know. It was nice talking to you. I feel like we never get to really talk.”

“I may take you up on that,” I said reluctantly, knowing I’d rather walk then ask for another ride.

I tried to make it through the kitchen, but was stopped in my tracks by a stinging pain to my right arm. I winced and turned to find Carol with a metal serving spoon in her hand.

“Who the hell was that?” Carol demanded, obviously very agitated. I looked around and realized George wasn’t here, and from her grip of the spoon, this could not be good for me.

“That was Lauren. She’s one of the team captains,” I tried to explain. I was too nervous that she’d see through my lie if I tried to explain why Sara didn’t drive me, so I left it at that.

“You’re pathetic. If you’re begging for rides and embarrassing me, I will hurt you severely. Sara’s finally seen you for who you are, huh?”

The mention of Sara’s name stung worse than the red mark on my arm. I remained still, looking for any opportunity to back away to my room before this escalated.

That’s when her eyes widened, and the metal spoon walloped the side of my head. I let out a moan and put my hand to my head, backing against the wall.

“You’re fucking disgusting,” she declared, the storm in her eyes brewing, making me fear what was to come. “How dare you come into my house smelling like that.”

I looked down at my practice clothes and released a breath of defeat. I chose not to shower after practice today, so I wouldn’t keep Lauren waiting. Wrong choice.

“Mom,” Jack yelled from upstairs, distracting her. “Is Dad back with the pizza yet?”

She had to shake the fury from her brow before she replied in her best mother tone, “No honey, but he should be here soon. Why don’t you and Leyla get washed up.”

“Get out of my sight before I make you sleep outside,” she snapped. I took advantage of the opportunity to rush to my room.

Upon shutting my door, I dropped my bags and rubbed the small bump on my head, relieved that’s all I walked away with. I was starving but knew I’d have to suffer through it.

I tried to focus on my homework instead. I couldn’t concentrate to save my life, staring at the words as they blurred in front of me. I only faintly recalled the lessons in class to coincide with the assignments, and my notes were a scribble of incoherent words. I jumped at the sound of the knock on the door at ten o’clock - signaling to turn off the lights.

I set the Trigonometry book at the bottom of my closet, and shut off the lights. I waited in bed until I heard two sets of footsteps ascend the stairs. I crept breathlessly out of bed and slipped into the closet, closing the door behind me. My closet was not very wide, which was fine since I didn’t own a lot of clothes, but it was tall and deep. I had plenty of clearance to sit under my clothes without them touching the top of my head. There was a small door at the back of the closet that led into a crawl space where I stored the things that meant the most to me.

That minute space contained the only pictures I had of my parents and memories of a time that was almost too distant to remember. It was certainly a universe away from where I sat now in the confines of a closet. I also stored some of my favorite paintings and athletic awards, along with a small shoe box of letters that my mother sent to me after I’d moved in with George and Carol.

She wrote frequently at the beginning, about nothing of importance, just rambling on paper. After a while, the letters arrived further apart; until finally, they stopped coming altogether about a year and a half ago. I figured she was consumed with her life and couldn’t bother with me. She had always been consumed with her life - that’s why I was in this house and not hers.

I read by the pull-string light bulb suspended above the closet shelf. I referenced the textbook, trying to teach myself what I’d neglected to learn in class. By the time I crept out of my study space, it was after one o’clock in the morning. I collapsed on bed, never changing from my practice clothes. Sleep came quickly, but the dreams kept me twisting.

~~~~~

I dragged myself to the bathroom and prepared for another day with little to look forward to, but got ready all the same. I intended to walk to the bus stop, but there he was - relentless. I was determined to keep walking, ignoring his shiny sports car.

As I walked past him, he stepped out of the car and pleaded, “Emma, don’t do this.”

My eyes widened in panic as I glanced from him to the picture window of the house. He saw my look of terror and glanced to the house as well.

“Then get in,” he demanded. With an exasperated sigh, I stomped to his car and slid in. He closed his door and began driving away. I sat stiffly against the leather seat, with my arms crossed around my backpack and my lips pressed together, staring straight ahead.

“Are you sulking?”

Insulted, I glared at him. He produced his amused grin, agitating me more.

“You’re seriously sulking,” he concluded, almost laughing.

“Stop,” I shot back, attempting to be serious. But the more I tried, the harder it was, and I felt my lips curl into a resisted smile. “I am not sulking.”

Evan burst out laughing.

“Enough,” I yelled, but found I was involuntarily smiling.

After he was able to stop laughing , he became too serious.

“Now you have to tell me what’s going on. Why are you avoiding me?”

I remained quiet. I struggled for a rational explanation, so he would respect my decision to cut him out of my life. I couldn’t come up with anything that would make sense to him. Everything I wanted to say would reveal too much. He waited patiently for my response.

“You’re not Sara,” I finally breathed.

“I don’t want to be Sara,” he replied in confusion. “I still don’t understand.”

“I don’t know how to fit you in my world without hurting you too.” The truth in my words revealed more than he’d ever know.

“Don’t worry about hurting me,” he replied calmly. “I like being a part of your world, and I understand that it’s more complicated than you’re willing to share with me. But I’ll respect that, for now.”

He pulled into the parking lot of a drugstore and put the car in park. Evan seemed nervous as he turned to speak to me. He released a quick breath before he spoke. My chest tightened, afraid to hear what he had to say.

“I don’t do this.” His hands gestured between us. My eyes narrowed, trying to interpret his meaning. He exhaled and looked out the windshield. “I don’t stay, and I’m used to that. And I’m always prepared to leave – because I have to eventually.”

He stopped again, frustrated with himself. I sat motionless, absolutely convinced I didn’t want him to continue – but I couldn’t bring myself to ask him to stop.

“I want to stay here,” he finally declared. “It would bother me if I left. I mean, I’ve already unpacked.”

Evan looked at me with a small, uncertain smile. We sat silently, looking at each other for an excruciatingly slow minute – he waited for me to say something. I broke his gaze, flashing my eyes around the car, searching for the right words. Disappointed, Evan looked away, his face turning a hue of red before he continued driving toward the school.