Barely Breathing (Breathing 2)

I stripped off the shorts and tank top and slipped into the water. The heat of the water instantly warding off the goosebumps that erupted while walking across the cold deck in my bikini.

I waded across to the other side and slid next to Evan. He draped his arm behind me. The water foamed and bubbled up over my chest as I sank into it, relaxed by its warmth.

"I like the suit," Evan leaned over and said into my ear. I grinned.

"That's right," I noted, "you've never seen me in a bathing suit before. This is actually the first time I've worn it." We'd gone to the beach a couple of times last summer, but I was still in a cast. I ended up wearing shorts and a tank top since I couldn't go in the water.

"We'll definitely be going to the beach this summer," Evan smiled. I couldn't help but look past him at Analise who was watching us, her eyes darting away quickly when I caught her. And I knew Drew was as well, with his elbows out over the sides and a beer in one hand.

"Hey, Emma," he offered, raising his bottle in the air. I nodded with a small smile before looking away.

Sara was across from us, talking to Jill and Natalie. She called Analise over to join them. Analise couldn't refuse, and I knew Sara had done it on purpose. Thankfully a few more people entered and sat between Evan and Drew. This could not get any more awkward.

"I think I need to convince my parents to get a hot tub," Evan said, running his hand over the top of my thigh, causing me to inhale quickly, but no one noticed. They couldn't see under the water. "They can put it out by the pool that we never use."

"That's right, I've never actually seen your pool uncovered," I replied, taking a hold of his hand that was teasing the inside of my thigh. My face couldn't have been any redder, but that wasn't noticeable either in these conditions.

"Evan," I scolded under my breath, squeezing his hand.

"Sorry, it's the bikini," he defended with an amused grin. "It's too tempting." He leaned over and gave me a soft kiss, his wet lips, sliding over mine. It was brief, but enough to incite a stutter in my chest. I almost forgot we weren't alone for that one second. Then I opened my eyes and saw Drew over Evan's shoulder and sat up a little straighter.

"Analise isn't watching you anymore after that," Sara said lowly. I hadn't noticed that she'd moved next to me. "You're making it steamy in here." She laughed and nudged my knee with hers.

"Did everyone see that?" I asked her, suddenly very aware of the number of people around us.

"No, just those who shouldn't have been watching."

I let Evan keep his hand on my knee, and I refrained from kissing him, despite how tempting it was as the moisture clung to the smooth, sharp lines of his face, down his straight nose and over his slightly parted lips. I had to keep reminding myself that we had an audience, even though the steam made it difficult to see across to the other side.

His thigh brushed against mine, and my breath faltered. He squeezed my knee and I looked up at him. "This is torture," he said, leaning in closer. "Maybe we should get out of here. My parents aren't home."

My heart fluttered, and I smiled. "Really?"

"Really," he said, his breath tickling my lips. "Let's go."

"Okay," I said, biting my lip, wanting to lean in a little closer to taste the water running over his mouth.

"You go first. I'll meet you by the door." He leaned back, and I had to gather myself for a moment before turning toward Sara, who was talking to a girl on the other side of her.

"I'm going to leave with Evan," I informed her. "I'll text if I'm coming to your house, okay?"

"If,” she stressed with a knowing look. "Water too hot for you?"

"Something like that," I grinned widely, standing up and moving toward the steps. I couldn't look back because I knew my thoughts were transparent, and no one needed to see what I was thinking.

"Leaving?" Drew asked from behind me as I wrapped the towel around my chest, the heat from the hot tub evaporating into the cold, damp night.

"It's getting kind of crowded," I answered, barely giving him a glance.

"Did you get your sweater? I left it on your porch."

"Uh, yeah, thanks." I said vaguely, catching sight of Evan approaching behind him and hoping he hadn't overheard Drew.

Drew noticed Evan as well and said, "It was good seeing you again," before walking through the sliding glass door that led into Jill's parents' bedroom.

"See you in a little bit," I told Evan over my shoulder before heading toward Jill's room. I gathered my clothes and entered the bathroom, my heart beating so fast I was lightheaded. I tried to take calming breaths, but I was too nervously excited.

My phone fell out of my pocket when I picked up my jeans. The red light was flashing to indicate I had a message. I picked it up from the floor and slid my finger over the screen. The excitement drained instantly when I saw the missed call and voice message from my mother.

I entered the code and listened to the recording. "Emma? Emma, you there?" Her words were slow and barely audible. "You with him? Fuckin’... You are." Then there was silence. She was a mess. My stomach flipped and my jaw tightened. I wasn't sure if I wanted to scream or cry. Instead, I took a breath and shut it off.

After I dressed, I went back out onto the deck to find Sara. "Are you going to stay here tonight?"

"I think so," Sara replied. "Why?"

"I was going to take my car," I explained. I had driven so that Sara could drink.

"No problem," she shrugged and then smiled, "Details."

I forced a smile, knowing there wouldn't be any details to share tonight.

I found Evan at the front door holding our jackets.

"Change of plans," I told him, more crushed than I could stand.

"What's wrong?" Evan questioned in concern.

"Umm, I'm not feeling all that great," I explained, my pulse quickened with my fabrication. "I think I'm going to head home instead."

Evan's eyes tightened in uncertainty. "What?"

"Uh," I faltered, recognizing he wasn't buying my illness. "I think I need to go to bed. Maybe the lack of sleep is getting to me."

"You were fine a couple minutes ago," he countered skeptically. "I don't understand. Did something happen?"

"No," I said, a little too adamantly. Evan arched his eyebrows. "I'm sorry. I'm tired. Okay?"

"No, it's not okay," Evan returned. "I know there's something going on. But if you're not going to tell me?"

"Evan, I swear, I just really need to go home," I explained softly, my eyes large and pleading.

Evan nodded with his lips pressed in a straight line.

"Talk to you tomorrow?" My stomach clenched as the disappointment resonated on his face.

"Text me before you go to sleep," he requested, leaning down to barely brush my lips.

He stood at the door, watching me rush to my car. My stomach was nauseous with the lies I’d spewed, especially since I knew he’d seen right through them. I'd have to deal with that tomorrow.

I gripped the steering wheel tightly, now focused on finding my mother. I tried calling her, but it went to voicemail. I decided to start at home and then go from there. I didn't have Sharon's number, but maybe I could find it in my mother's room. I wasn't sure where else to look after that. Maybe Jonathan would know.

I didn't call him. It was eleven o'clock; it wasn't late. But I didn't want to involve him if I didn't have to. If I could fix this myself, then I would.

My thoughts continued to race, and my stomach churned with worry all the way to my house. When I saw her car in the driveway, I released an anxious breath. I pulled in behind her and noticed the driver's door was still open and the front tire was on the lawn. When I got out of the car, I could hear chiming, indicating the key was still in the ignition. That's when I realized, the car was still running.

I looked around the car, confused. My heart stammered. I shut off the car and closed the door. Then I spotted her, sprawled motionless on the top of the steps with her head and arms splayed on the porch. I rushed to help her.

She didn't have any shoes on, or a jacket for that matter. I knelt down beside her to see if she was hurt. Her knees were scraped and bloody from the fall, and there was a bump on the top of her forehead where it was pressed against the porch. But she was breathing?and her breath was saturated with alcohol. It had been obvious she was drunk from three feet away, the liquor drifting toward me in the breeze.

"Mom." I sat on the top step and lifted her head up. "Mom, you need to get up." I tried to roll her so I could prop her up to sit. She groaned, but otherwise she wasn’t moving. I leaned her into me in a seated position. "Mom. Rachel." I raised my voice to sound more commanding. "Wake up. Let's go. You need to go inside, then you can sleep all you want." I shook her shoulder, but nothing.

I tilted her head toward me. And she threw up. Before I could turn her away, the warm liquid was running down the front of me and soaking into my jeans.

"Shit!" I exclaimed, leaning her toward the side of the stairs as she heaved again. She didn't wake up, even after vomiting all over me, herself, and the stairs. I looked down at the sour, potent mess. My throat tightened in disgust and my stomach rolled.

There was no way I was going to be able to carry her. She was dead weight. I could've dragged her in, but then what? I couldn't leave her covered in puke in the foyer. It appeared I'd come to my last resort.

28. To the Extreme

I sat on the steps and waited for him to arrive. I was tempted to unroll the hose to spray us and the stairs down before he got there, but I had no idea where it was. I was afraid to leave her alone long enough to change and get cleaned up, so I just waited.

I was trying so hard not to cry when he pulled into the driveway. I was frustrated, sad, even a little angry that I was in this predicament. Oh, yeah, and extremely humiliated?especially when I saw him emerge from his truck in a suit.

"Oh shit," I murmured when he neared. "You were out. You had plans. Jonathan, I am so sorry. I shouldn't have called you."

"Yes, you should have," he countered without hesitating. He took us in with his hands on his hips. My mother's tight dress was pushed up so her underwear were showing, her knees were bloody, and her hair was matted with the vomit that was smeared across her cheeks and oozing down her chest. She was collapsed to the side, completely unmoving. At first sight, she appeared to not even be breathing, but I knew that she was because her breath reeked of alcohol and puke.

And then there was me. Slumped and broken, covered in dark red vomit, like someone just heaved their innards all over me. I couldn't move. The cold, slimy, vile substance made me cringe in disgust, sliding across my skin with the slightest movement.

"Bad night?" he observed with a shake of his head.

"Whatever gave you that idea?" I groaned sarcastically.

He took a deep breath and asked, “Is the door unlocked?"

"We didn't make it that far," I told him, handing him the house key. He crept carefully past us and placed his shiny dress shoes on the unscathed sections of wood. Opening the front door and flipping on the foyer lights, he disappeared into the house and reemerged a moment later wearing a fitted t-shirt and the dress pants.