Reason to Breathe (Breathing 1)

There was nothing left in me, but my body was determined to purge any trace of whatever it was that had invaded it. The convulsions left me weak and trembling. By the time night came around, I was finally able to make it to my bed, where I curled up under the covers and wished I wouldn’t wake up again if this was how I was going to feel. But I woke up anyway.

I somehow managed to prepare for school the next morning. I knew that I wasn’t allowed to stay home alone, and the repercussions of having Carol or George miss a day of work were more than I could fathom. I showered and wrapped my wet hair in a low knot above my neck. I sipped a glass of water, hoping it would relieve the trembling, before making my way out the door.

I practically collapsed in Evan’s car, wanting so much to be under my covers again. I pulled my knees into me and buried my face in my arms. He didn’t say anything for a full minute after we pulled away from my house. But a minute was all it took for my stomach to register that I’d attempted to put something in it.

“Evan, pull over,” I whispered with an urgency that he recognized. When the car stopped, I forced myself out and staggered to the back just before my body rejected the fluid. I took a few cleansing breaths, willing the spasms in my stomach to stop while I supported myself on the back corner of his car. I slipped back into the car and put my face in my hands.

“You’re not going to school,” Evan determined. I could only groan. I barely noticed where we were going until the car pulled in his empty driveway.

“Evan, I can’t stay here,” I argued in a rasp. “I will get in so much trouble for missing school.”

“I’ll have my mom call in to excuse us.”

I gave in and opened the door, setting my feet on the ground and taking an uneven breath before forcing my legs to receive my weight. Evan hovered. I knew he wanted to help, but I shook my head to fend him off. I followed him through the house, allowing him to take off my shoes after I collapsed on his bed. My eyes were closed the second I was enveloped by the warmth of his blankets. His hand gently brushed against my clammy face right before I drifted into a comatose sleep.

My eyes fluttered open in the dark space. I glanced around without moving my head. I recognized the comforting scent and knew where I was. Then I remembered why I was there and I moaned. Did he really see me throw up?

I peeked next to me and discovered that I was alone in the room. I listened for the warning growls of my stomach, but my stomach was calm, and my head was clear. I pressed my dry tongue to the roof of my mouth, craving water. I pushed myself up to sit, grimacing at the soreness of my abused back and stomach muscles. At least the excruciating body aches had subsided.

I stiffly moved to the bathroom to investigate how horrible I looked. I wasn’t disappointed when I observed the ghostly reflection staring back at me - I was a disaster. Was there any way I could slip out and have Sara pick me up without Evan seeing me?

I let down my damp hair and combed my fingers through it, and I immediately put it back in the elastic, horrified by the results. I rinsed my face and mouth, attempting to be recognized as human again. I took a dab of toothpaste and put in on my finger, rubbing it on my teeth and tongue to conceal the aftermath of a day and a half of throwing up.

“Emma?” Evan called from the bedroom.

I peeked out through the bathroom doorway.

“How are you feeling?” he asked cautiously.

“Like someone scraped me off the road.” He smiled at my answer, the worry washing away. “Oh, and I look like it too.”

“No you don’t,” he assured, meeting me with open arms when I stepped out of the bathroom. I allowed him to wrap me in his warm embrace. He kissed the top of my head. “You look better than you did this morning. I heard that people could look green, but I’d never seen it before.”

I tried to push away with a huff, but he tightened his hold, letting out a quick laugh.

“You still look pale, though,” he observed. “Do you want to lie down?”

I nodded. He released me, and I slipped back under the blankets.

“I brought you some tea to try to get some fluids back into you, and it shouldn’t upset your stomach - or at least that’s what my mother told me.”

“Is she here?”

“No, but I had to tell her you were sick, so she would call the school for us. She’s called a couple of times to check on you and to give me way too much advice on how to take care of you. I tried to explain that you were still sleeping, but that didn’t stop her.”

Evan sat on the bed next to me, with his back against the headboard. He eased me over so my head rested on his lap, then he drew his fingers along my hairline. I closed my eyes, soothed by the tingling that traced his touch.

“What time is it?” I whispered.

“After two.”

“I can’t believe I slept that long.”

“Me either. I had to check a few times to make sure you were still breathing. You never moved.”

“I’m still breathing,” I assured him quietly, with a small smile.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better.” He ran his hand down the back of my neck. The warm chills continued down my spine.

I sat up and searched for the tea on the table next to the bed. I took the smallest sip and let the warmth settle in my stomach before I felt it was safe to drink more.

“You still have your state ID from your trip with Sara, right?” Evan asked out of nowhere.

“Yes,” I answered slowly.

“Do you have access to your birth certificate and social security card?” he inquired further. I drew my eyebrows together and remained silent.

“I think you should try to get them – just in case,” he explained.

I knew he was serious, and that’s what made it so strange to hear. He really was prepared to escape with me.

“I can tell George I need them to apply to the camp this summer. You’re really serious about this?” I asked, studying his face.

“Yes, I am.” I dropped my eyes, struck with the understanding of what he’d be giving up too. Going into hiding would mean sacrificing his family and friends, not to mention dropping out of high school.

“Evan, it’s not going to come to that. I mean, really – where would we go?”

“Don’t worry,” he consoled with confidence. “I’ve given it a lot of thought. Besides, it wouldn’t be permanent.”

I decided not to question him further in fear of hearing any more of his plan. I refused to admit that it would ever get so bad that we’d be forced to run away. Evan believed in this plan because it was the only thing that he thought he could do to help me. It wasn’t realistic, but I wasn’t going to tell him that.

I did get the documents from George. Evan was relieved. But I wasn’t. I couldn’t tell him that I was paralyzed with fear at the thought of leaving and that I wasn’t convinced I could do it. He just had to believe I could - at least until I was forced to decide.

36. Dinner

“Where is it?” she shrieked, startling me as I poured a capful of detergent into the washer.

Stunned, I watched her rush to the laundry area and begin throwing clothes around. The clothes started bouncing against my body. Of course they didn’t hurt, but the ferocity behind the throws still made me flinch.

“What did you do with it?” she demanded.

“What?” I asked quietly.

“The fucking towel,” she screamed. “The one you ruined. What the fuck did you do with it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lied. I’d thrown away the bloodstained hand towel I used to stop my fingers from bleeding. But how did she know?

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, you worthless piece of shit.”

She continued throwing clothes in my direction. She looked ridiculous in her fit of rage, creating a windstorm of clothes tossed about the basement. I straightened up, no longer cowering, and I looked at this pathetic woman for the first time. My stomach twisted in disgust and anger. I was fed up with her irrational tirades.

“It’s just a towel,” my voice bellowed over her screams. She froze, shocked by the strength in my tone.

“What did you say?” she hissed. I stared back, unwavering, even with her “how dare you” look. As I stood there, staring her down, I suddenly realized how much taller I was than her. I smirked at the thought of my shrinking cowardice.

“It’s just a towel,” I repeated calmly, but with a confidence that kept me extended above her. I turned to shut the lid of the washer.

“It’s just a towel?” she grunted, shoving the softener bottle right in my gut when I turned around. The air rushed from me, bending me in half as I held my stomach. She raised the bottle again and came down on my shoulder, crumpling me to the floor. I wanted to run for the stairs, but there was one last blow to my left arm, and I folded against the washer. “Don’t ever fucking talk to me like that again.”

“Carol,” George yelled down the stairs, “you down there? Your mother’s on the phone.”

Carol trod off, grumbling, “Clean this up,” before she climbed the stairs.

I collapsed to the floor, still breathing heavily from getting the wind knocked out of me. My fists were clenched, my nails digging into my palms. I inhaled deeply to calm the fire. It didn’t disappear completely, but it was enough so that I could pull myself up and begin picking up her mess.

“Emma,” George knocked on my door. “Evan’s here.”

My throat closed – he was in my house? What was he thinking?

“Okay,” I squeaked, unable to find my voice. “I’ll be right there.” Something rolled inside me as I grabbed my jacket and walked down the hall.

“Hi,” I said with wide eyes. He ignored my anxiety and smiled back.

“It’s great to finally meet you,” Carol declared with the widest smile. It was torturous to witness.

“You too,” Evan returned politely.

“Well… we should go.” The words rushed from my mouth in a single breath.

“Ten o’clock, okay?” Carol confirmed in her sweet tone. I winced at the sound.

“Yeah.” I tried to force myself to smile, but if felt more like a grimace.

Evan put his hand on my back to escort me out. I stiffened, knowing they were still watching us. I hoped she hadn’t noticed that he was touching me.

“What were you thinking?” I exclaimed in a whisper while we walked down the driveway.

“Em, they knew you were coming over to my house,” he explained. “I couldn’t bring myself to just pull up and honk. It doesn’t matter who they are; that’s not who I am.”

It was unsettling to see him in my kitchen – the place of so much pain. The two images fought in my brain, making the discomfort harder to relinquish.

“You don’t have to walk me to the door tonight, okay?” I pleaded.

“Okay,” he agreed reluctantly. “But can I at least kiss you goodnight?” A smile flashed across his face, relieving my anxiety.