Invisibly Breathing

by Eileen Merriman

  Felix gives me one of his unexpected smiles back, the first in days.

  ‘Um, I don’t know how my mum would feel about that. But Alfie’s away at camp, so I’ll sleep in his room.’

  I sigh. ‘You drive me crazy, Ruby Waterloo.’

  ‘I prefer Five.’ He leans forward to kiss me on the lips. I want to tell him I love him, in case he didn’t get my text this morning, but my eyelids feel as if they have fishing sinkers attached to them.

  I close my eyes.

  I sleep. I sleep and sleep. At some stage I wake to find Felix’s mum beside me again, holding a penlight. After shining the light into my eyes and making me move my arms and legs, she makes me drink two glasses of water. Then she and Felix help me down the hall to his bed, where he tucks me in like a little kid.

  I’m happy to be treated like a little kid. I don’t want to think. I don’t want to remember. Falling in and out of dreams, I briefly emerge into semi-consciousness when I turn, and my ribs feel as if they’re poking into my lungs. I’m dreaming of wind stirring through kahikatea trees, soft river water slipping past my summer-hot skin, Felix’s voice in my ear.

  Mathematicians call it an infinitude of primes.

  I was a kissing virgin. Before now.

  U breathe invisibly.

  Until the earthy forest floor changes to the furrowed deck of the ute, and my father’s voice explodes into my ears.

  You dirty little pervert.

  And he’s kicking me, over and over, and I’m hunched into a ball, my arms cradled over my already-broken head.

  ‘Stop. D-d-d—’

  You are nothing. Say it, you are nothing.

  ‘I hate you.’ A fresh, knife-like pain twists into my chest, and I moan. Fingers wrap around my wrist. I jerk, and moan again.

  Oh God, no, please leave me alone, I’d rather be dead.

  ‘Bailey.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Two, it’s me, Five.’

  Oh. Oh, it’s Felix, and the light spilling into my eyes is from the hallway, only the hallway. I’m still in his house, still safe.

  For now.

  ‘Five.’ I slide my fingers down his cheek, curl them around the base of his neck. ‘Did I wake you?’ I must have been calling out. God, how embarrassing.

  ‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘But it’s all right.’ After climbing in beside me, he wraps his arms around me, so gently, and kisses my eyelids, my nose, my lips. ‘You’re OK now,’ he whispers.

  ‘D-don’t leave,’ I whisper back. Please, please don’t leave me to the nightmares, not tonight.

  Felix sighs and places his palm over the river-rock hanging around my neck.

  ‘Don’t leave,’ he echoes, and I can’t promise him that, so I don’t. But we fall asleep like that, breathing in synchrony, and for a few hours I’m dreamless. For a few hours, I’m safe.

  It’s still dark when I wake. If I lie still, I don’t feel anything, not at first, but when I take a deep breath the knife-like sensation is still there, digging into my chest. My head feels better than yesterday, but if I move too fast blue waves of pain ripple through my skull.

  Stupid, so stupid.

  You dirty little pervert.

  Lying on my back, I stretch out my hand and feel Felix’s hip. He’s facing the wall, his breathing slow and even. I realise this is the first time we’ve spent the night together, and maybe the last. But I don’t want to think about that now. I’m so thirsty I could drink a river. My skin feels grimy, and I’m sure my breath reeks. I need water, inside and out.

  Funny how I usually think nothing of flying over people’s shoulders at judo, but the simple act of getting out of bed is like getting through the last fight in a very long tournament. Gritting my teeth, I roll onto my left side and push up with both hands. Once I’ve swung my legs over the side of the bed, I sit for a moment, waiting for the spinning in my head to subside. The luminous dials on the glow-in-the-dark clock by Felix’s bed tell me it’s five thirty-five.

  This time yesterday, I was asleep under the stars. Dreaming.

  I pad down the hall and into the bathroom. After locking the door behind me, I gaze at the towels neatly folded over the rail, the shiny white tiles on the floor, the freestanding bath with feet like claws. It’s so much nicer than our crummy bathroom, with the lino that’s lifting up at the edges, the stained bath and threadbare towels. I wonder what it’s like not to have to worry about money, or alcoholic fathers, or whether your next beating will cause permanent damage.

  Maybe I’ve got permanent damage already. How many brain cells do you lose with a cricket bat to the head?

  Trying not to think too hard about that, I satisfy my thirst by drinking from the tap. When I straighten up, my eyes settle on the mirror above the basin. Correction, eye singular — my right eye is swollen shut. I run my fingers over the adhesive dressing Doctor McKenzie stuck to my forehead, past my eyelid, ballooned with blood, around my mountainous cheekbone. Probing my tongue into the top corner of my mouth, I realise one of my teeth is loose. Fuck.

  Fighting a rising sense of desperation, I pull off the t-shirt and boxers Felix lent me last night and raise my arms above my head. The entire right side of my body, chest to hip, is dusky red; the right side of my arm too, from when I was trying to protect myself.

  Anger rushes through me, so sudden I can hardly breathe.

  ‘Useless,’ I whisper. ‘So fucking useless.’

  I turn my back on the mirror monster and step into the shower.

  By the time I walk back into the bedroom, it’s just gone six a.m., and I’m feeling pretty sore. Sore, but better, because I’ve washed off all the dirt and blood with almond-scented soap, and washed my hair as best I can without getting my stitches wet.

  ‘Hey,’ Felix murmurs when I crawl back into bed. ‘How are you this morning?’

  ‘Well,’ I say, ‘I can move, sort of.’ I wrap my arms around him, my nose touching his. ‘I used your toothbrush. Hope that’s OK.’

  ‘Of course.’ Felix kisses me, touches his fingers to the dressing on my forehead. ‘Are you very sore?’

  ‘Only when I inhale.’

  ‘Mum might have some—’

  ‘Soon.’ I kiss him again, my hand on his hip, and whoa, I’m not so sore that I don’t notice his reaction, or mine. ‘Pity I’m too injured to seduce you, Five.’

  Felix trails his fingers over my upper thigh.

  ‘Soon, Two. When you’re better.’ He hesitates. ‘Hey, I — I haven’t asked you what happened exactly. I know you might not want to tell me. But all I want to do right now is smash your Dad’s face in.’ His voice cracks. I take his hand and squeeze it hard.

  ‘I fell down a b-bank. That’s all anyone needs to know. And stay away from my dad, if you know what’s good for you.’

  ‘But what are you going to do?’

  I roll onto my back, wincing. ‘Can we not talk about this right now?’

  ‘You’re not going home, though. Right?’

  ‘Well,’ I say slowly, ‘what choice do I have?’ The pounding of my heart is almost painful, like it’s as bruised and battered as the rest of me.

  Felix sits bolt upright. ‘That’s not a choice, it’s a death wish.’ His voice rises. ‘You think anyone believes that story about falling down a hill? Marcus said there’s an imprint of the sole of someone’s boot on your chest, a fucking imprint.’

  ‘Felix,’ I say, and he stops talking. All I can hear is rapid breathing, his and mine. ‘If you call the police, then what do you think will happen?’

  ‘They’ll arrest your dad.’

  ‘And then what do you think will happen?’

  ‘He’ll go to prison, like he deserves.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘And then my mum won’t be able to afford to keep us, and we’ll all end up in foster homes. My whole family b-b-blown apart because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.’

  ‘It’s not your—’ He breaks off, turning his head. I can hear it, too, footsteps in the hallway. Felix
slides down the end of the bed, so he doesn’t have to climb over me.

  ‘At least stay one more day. One more night.’

  ‘OK,’ I say, too worn out to argue. One more day, I can do that.

  ‘I’ll get you some painkillers.’ He walks out, leaving the door slightly ajar. A moment later, his mother knocks on the door and pushes it open.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ She’s wearing a floral dressing gown and her hair is hanging loose around her shoulders.

  ‘I’m all right,’ I say, watching her turn on Felix’s bedside lamp.

  ‘How’s the head?’

  ‘Still attached.’ I give her a faint smile. Mrs C smiles back, then sits beside me and checks my eyes with her penlight. Her hands smell like roses. It’s giving me a weird homesick feeling.

  ‘And your chest?’

  ‘It’s OK.’

  Mrs C purses her lips, like she doesn’t believe me. ‘Can you rate your pain on a scale of zero to ten?’

  ‘Um, maybe a seven. Point five.’ Ten was yesterday, when I was walking up the hill. I still don’t know how I got up there. Adrenaline, maybe.

  ‘Yes,’ she says after inspecting my chest. ‘I can see why.’ She pulls the sheet up to my chin again. ‘Has this happened before?’

  I open my mouth to say no, but I can tell I’m going to turn into a stuttering mess, so I close it again. Shake your head. I don’t shake my head. I’m struck dumb, motionless, a dummy.

  I’m such a dummy.

  Don’t say anything it’s not safe not safe not safe.

  ‘Is anyone else in your family at risk?’

  ‘I d-d-don’t know,’ I manage, even as the frantic voice in my head chants, Jack, Jack, if you don’t go back he’ll be next, can you live with that? Can you?

  ‘Codeine up,’ Felix says from the doorway. Mrs C sighs and stands up.

  ‘I think you’ll need two of those, Bailey,’ she says. ‘Are you hungry?’

  And I can’t talk, I can’t even see, and I press my palms over my eyes and Felix says, ‘Is the light hurting you?’ and then, when he sees my tears, ‘Oh.’

  ‘You can stay as long as you want,’ Mrs C says, squeezing my shoulder.

  I nod, my hands still over my face.

  ‘I’ll make pancakes, shall I?’ Felix’s mum leaves without waiting for an answer.

  ‘Actually,’ I say, my voice so quiet I can barely hear it myself, ‘maybe you could turn the light off.’

  So Felix does, and then he lies beside me, running his fingers down my face until my cheeks are dry.

  Dreamless. I’m dreamless.

  CHAPTER 23

  FELIX: THE FIRST PRIME NUMBER

  Mum makes me go to school. She says I’ve missed enough days this term. Actually it’s only two days, the day I had tonsillitis and the Monday I ran out of class — the same Monday I met Bailey by the river, where he kissed me for the first time.

  When I walk down the corridor before class, I wish I had compound eyes, like a fly, or an owl’s head that I could swivel two hundred and seventy degrees. I’m sick of looking over my shoulder, waiting for someone to hook me with a nasty comment. But when I walk past the stairwell, it’s Bindi who calls out to me.

  ‘Hey Felix, over here.’ She and Dallas are leaning against the wall, chatting. I walk into the stairwell and lean next to them, watching a series of legs march up the stairs. Skinny legs, chubby legs, muscly legs; brown and white and golden.

  ‘I’m having a birthday party next weekend,’ Bindi says. ‘You should come along.’

  I nod. ‘Sure, OK.’

  ‘I was going to invite Bailey but I haven’t seen him lately,’ she carries on. ‘Is he sick or something?’

  ‘He’s suspended, isn’t he?’ Dallas asks. He’s wearing a red beret. I try not to look at it.

  ‘He was at school on Monday.’ Bindi fiddles with an earring, a row of bracelets cascading down her wrist when she lifts her arm. I don’t realise I’m counting until I glance up and see Dallas and Bindi looking at me.

  ‘Yeah,’ I say. Ten, there are ten bracelets. ‘He’s sick.’

  Marcus came past our house before I left for school. He told Bailey to keep up the fluids and take regular pain relief. After that Marcus and Mum left for work in his red Fiat Bambina.

  There’s been far too much red today, and it’s giving me a bad feeling.

  ‘Well, hopefully he’s better soon,’ Bindi says. ‘Hey, you should invite Lucy.’

  ‘Lucy?’

  ‘Forgotten about her already?’ Dallas grins. ‘Jeez, dude, you better pay her some attention or she’ll move on to someone else.’

  ‘Sure,’ I say, wishing for the millionth time that I didn’t have to pretend to be straight, wishing I could just be me. ‘Next weekend, cool.’

  Bindi raises an eyebrow at me. ‘I haven’t invited Zero, if that’s what you’re worried about.’

  ‘Oh,’ I say. ‘I’m not worried.’ Zero seems very insignificant today. Less than zero, in fact.

  ‘I’d love to know what Hunter said to him last week,’ Dallas says.

  I’m about to tell Dallas that Bailey didn’t say anything. But then I remember how Bailey was whispering something at the end of the fight, when he had Zero’s arm locked between his legs.

  ‘What do you think he said?’ I ask.

  Dallas shakes his head. ‘I don’t know. But Zero’s been a shadow of his former self ever since.’

  ‘Hashtag less than zero,’ Bindi says, and they both start laughing.

  I message Bailey between first and second period, while Bindi and I are walking to physics: Are you OK? Do you want me to bring anything home at lunchtime? Coke? Chocolate? I don’t have much money, but maybe I could guilt Dad into giving me some extra pocket money at the weekend.

  Bailey doesn’t reply. I alternate between worrying that (a) he’s slipped into a coma and (b) run away again. Hopefully he’s just asleep, doped up on painkillers. Then I remember his phone was flat yesterday, and probably still is. So stupid — why didn’t I remember that?

  I’m sitting in third period English, working on my polonium-210 story, when there’s a knock on the classroom door. Ms Ralph looks up, frowning, then walks out, closing the door behind her.

  ‘What’s your story about?’ Wiremu whispers.

  Looking back at him, I say, ‘Vampires. What’s yours about?’

  Wiremu’s mouth twists. ‘Giant rats.’

  ‘Giant rats?’

  He nods. ‘Yeah, like King Kong-size rats.’

  I wind my pen through my fingers. ‘That’s kind of disturbing.’

  ‘And vampires aren’t?’ Wiremu asks.

  I shrug. ‘Yeah, maybe, but I’ve got a plan.’ I’m just about to tell him about the polonium-210 when I hear my name. Ms Ralph is standing by the door, curling her finger at me. Am I in trouble? For what, though?

  ‘Felix,’ she says again. ‘Could I have you for a moment please?’

  ‘Any time, honey,’ one of the guys says in a falsetto, and a few people crack up laughing. Usually that would bother me, but this time it doesn’t, because now I can see who’s standing behind her. My heart is going so fast it feels as though it’s going to burst, a fountain of blood jetting out of my mouth for vampire-Sam and vampire-Henry to feast on.

  I stand up and walk towards the doorway. There are two other people in the corridor, Coitus and a man wearing paint-splattered jeans.

  Chris Hunter smiles at me. ‘Hi, Felix,’ he says. ‘How are you?’

  What am I supposed to say to that? I glance at Coitus, but she just smiles, too, and says, ‘Mr Hunter was wondering if you had any idea where Bailey is. Have you heard from him recently?’

  ‘No,’ I say. I guess her and my definition of recently might be quite different.

  ‘When did you last see him?’ Coitus asks.

  ‘He hasn’t been at school since Monday.’ I’m getting good at this avoiding-the-truth business.

  ‘Well,’ Bailey’s dad says, still sm
iling, ‘we’ve been a little worried about him, because he took off yesterday morning, after I — well, I gave him a piece of my mind, to be honest.’ He glances at Coitus, and shrugs.

  A piece of his mind? I can’t believe he’s still smiling. What would Coitus say if I said, Actually, you gave him a head wound and broken ribs?

  Coitus peers at me through her blue-rimmed glasses.

  ‘Have you seen him, Felix? We’re obviously all worried about him.’ She’s doing the funny head-bob that she always does when she’s wound up, like a chicken pecking for seeds.

  I cross my arms. ‘I can’t help you,’ I say, barely able to disguise my loathing. ‘Can I go now?’

  Coitus hesitates. I look down at my feet, partly so I don’t have to look at Coitus’s chicken head, but mostly so I don’t have to look at Bailey’s dad.

  ‘Well, if you see him,’ Mr Hunter says, oh-so-nicely, ‘can you tell him his mother is going crazy with worry?’

  ‘I’m sure she is,’ I say, raising my eyes to his. ‘I hope he’s not hurt or anything.’

  He narrows his eyes at me. Long seconds pass. It feels like someone’s about to pull a pin from a grenade, and I don’t want it to be me.

  You prick. I can’t believe Bailey’s going to let you get away with this, and you know it. You know it.

  ‘Thank you, Felix,’ Coitus says. ‘You can go back to class now.’

  I escape back into the classroom, and take my seat next to Wiremu. Ms Ralph is telling everyone how our short stories are due in next Monday. I pick up my pen, but my hands are shaking, and I have to put it down again.

  ‘Are you in trouble?’ Wiremu whispers.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I say.

  As soon as the bell rings for lunch I’m out of there, powering towards home. One thousand steps, nine hundred metres, seven minutes. When I walk up the steps to our front door, I’m not expecting him to be there. Not expecting, but hoping.

  I twist the doorknob. It’s unlocked. Squares of sunlight frame the hallway. I turn my head, listening. Rustling, faint music and — footsteps?

  ‘Five?’ Bailey is standing in the doorway to the kitchen, his hand on the doorframe. His eyes are brighter, and there’s more colour in the non-bruised part of his face. I drop my bag and walk up to him.