Catch My Breath

by Wendy L. Wilson

  “Well, I’m heading out. You two heading that way Saturday morning?”

  I grit my teeth, a surge of anger bolting through me with the realization that he is not even willing to stick around for my graduation. Jake immediately swings his head around to look at me. He knows exactly what is going through my head. He was there only a few weeks after Mom’s death when Tristan had to walk up on that stage and grab his diploma, knowing Mom wouldn’t be there. How could he not be there after that happened to him?

  “Yeah, we’ll be there,” I spit out, my mouth tight and jaw tensed.

  Jake looks from Tristan to me and back again. I know he’s itching to say something, but I’d prefer to let it lie. I’m not going to beg him to come.

  “Wait, Tristan,” Jake pipes up as I glare at the back of Tristan’s head just before the door closes. “Tomorrow night is Judd’s …”

  “I’ll see you guys Saturday,” Tristan interrupts, glancing over his shoulder and quickly darting his eyes past mine like a scared animal. He knows I’m pissed. “Don’t be late and ahhh …” He pauses at the door, gripping the door knob and for a second, just a millisecond, my heart pounds in my chest thinking he may be the adult in the family for once. “Be careful driving through the hills.” He slams the door shut and the room falls silent.

  Leaning back in my chair, I fold my arms over my chest, draw my eyebrows down, clamp my jaw and stare at the table, fuming that he is skipping out on it. What an asshole! Ever since Mom passed away he has completely checked out of our lives. If you’re not sporting a set of double D’s then he’s not going to waste any time on you.

  “He’s just caught up in his own world, you know?” Jake says as he stares at me, clearly reading my thoughts or my face for that matter.

  I shake my head slowly and fling a chess piece across the board, pissed off that I even let it get to me. This is Tristan and this is what he does.

  “No, he doesn’t give a damn just like Dad!” I spit out, shoving myself away from the table.

  “You know that’s not true. He’s just screwed up.”

  Jake is always the first to jump to our older brother’s defense. It’s in his nature to be optimistic. Don’t ask me where he got that from; maybe Mom, who knows. Me on the other hand, I completely butt heads with Tristan. To say I’m not his biggest fan is an understatement. I love my brother, but I’m sick of his selfishness and irresponsibility.

  “Well, I’ve had enough of his bullshit! It’s time for him to grow up,” I say in a harsh tone. “Seriously, man … what is it going to take for him to act his age? Mom dies and he decides to throw us on the back burner? We all lost her! All of us!” I let out a sigh and start to pace. “You don’t see either of us running around getting plastered every night and going through women like it’s a damn contest.”

  As soon as the words leave my mouth I know they’re going to bite me in the ass. My eyes flicker to Jake as he stands up folding his arms with a smirk on his face. My anger quickly dissolves as I take in his amusement as my hand flies up to stop him, but it’s too late.

  He throws his head back on a laugh. “Wait, wait … I seem to recall someone else taking part in that contest.” His laughter gets louder and it completely breaks through the bitter mood that Tristan has created in me.

  “Shut up,” I join in on his laughter, my shoulders shuddering and stomach dancing.

  Jake’s eyes well up with tears from laughter as he recreates the image he saw the morning after Mom died back when I was only fifteen.

  “You came stumbling in the door at the crack of dawn and I seriously thought you had seen someone murdered with the look on your face. Oh my gosh … I can still hear you and Tristan’s conversation …”

  Quietly pulling the front door shut behind me, I grit my teeth and hold tightly to my shirt and shoes. My feet hurt from the two mile hike home and my head is about to explode.

  “Judd, where have you been?” Tristan’s voice is like nails down a chalk board. My shoulders tense up as I turn slowly to face his wrath. “I’ve been worried sick.” His face is pinched into a snarl with his nostrils flared and a deep crease between his brows. He looks like Mom, and instantly guilt rises into the back of my throat.

  “I ahh … I …” I don’t even know what to say. How do I explain that only seconds ago I woke up in Tyler’s pool house with a head full of blonde hair draped across my chest, absolutely no recollection of what happened only hours before and my bare body flush up against another much more curvy body that is also stark-ass naked.

  “Spit it out, Judd. Why didn’t you come home? Do you think I don’t have enough on my plate right now? I cannot … cannot handle you going off and disappearing right now!” he hollers, sounding more like a parent rather than my brother. “No call, nothing.”

  He folds his arms over his chest and gives me an intense glare; not quite angry and not hurt, more like confused and overwhelmed, waiting for answers that I don’t have.

  “I’m sorry,” I sniffle, my chest quickly heaving with the threat of an emotional overload. “I don’t know what to tell you.” Tears well in my eyes, instantly rolling down my face and gathering at my chin.

  Tristan’s expression softens as he takes a seat at a bar stool in the kitchen. “Just start from the beginning, then,” he says calmly as if our mother did not die less than twenty-four hours ago.

  So that’s just what I do. I start from the beginning, from the second I got home and found Mom’s bed empty, to the next minute when I was at Tyler’s house for a small party he was having since his parents were out of town.

  “I didn’t think it would hurt. I just thought if I drank, I might forget about it all.” Tristan’s eyes look vacant as I talk about losing Mom and for some reason that breaks something inside of me. It makes me feel distant and fractured from any connection with him. “The next thing I know, I was waking up this morning in bed with a girl and condoms on the floor beside us.”

  At last Tristan’s face changes and emotion takes resident, only not the kind I was expecting. “So what happened with this girl?” he snickers.

  Shooting him a glare for laughing at a time like this, I ball my hands at my side and yell, “It’s not funny, Tristan. She was naked and so was I.” I pause, taking in how he presses his lips together to hide his widening grin. “Do you know what this means?!”

  “Umm … yeah, I think I can figure it out,” he stumbles over his words as he suppresses a laugh.

  What the hell is funny about this? “She could be pregnant!” I shout out with tears streaming down my face one after another.

  He breathes out a quiet chuckle and tilts his head as if he pity’s me. “Judd, condoms were created to prevent that one thing so I’m thinking you’re ok. Actually, I’m impressed.”

  My eyes widen and I drop my mouth open in disbelief. “Impressed?! That I got drunk and slept with some girl I don’t even know? I don’t even know what we did or who she is.”

  Tristan puts his hand out to calm me down, “No, I’m impressed that you were so drunk you don’t remember and still thought to use a condom. That’s a plus and you know what, this sort of thing happens. You’re not the first kid to do something like this.”

  This is most definitely not something Mom would have said. She would have tanned my hide and asked questions later. Screw the condom. She would have banned me from any store that even carried them until I was thirty if she were here; she would be so disappointed in me.

  My mouth is agape, but he continues to laugh, covering his huge grin with both his hands. It’s no use, two deep dimples dip into each of his cheeks as his eyes glimmer with amusement. Just what the hell is so funny about this? I am mortified, confused, no longer a virgin, curious as hell on who this girl was and about to break into a fit of sobs that have no end in sight. But just as my confusion hits an all time high, it’s quickly amplified when my brother gets up from the bar stool and throws his arms around my shoulders.

  “Judd, don’t worry. You’re a
responsible kid and it happened … it may suck how it happened, but eventually it happens to all of us. I’m just shocked you beat me to the punch.” I laugh and look up at him, embarrassed yet comforted by his words and affection. “Listen, let’s get all Mom’s craft supplies together and go out to the wishing well. I have an idea, something I want to do to pay tribute to her. I think she would love it and we need to do this.” He holds me at arm’s length, looking into my eyes. Deep down, facing anything that has to do with knowing she is gone will more than likely tear me apart, but with the viewing, followed by her funeral, I know it will leave all three of us reeling with grief and unable to focus on anything.

  Just as we have all of Mom’s mosaic supplies gathered and while I am frantically searching for my wallet, a knock sounds at the door, immediately putting a knot in my stomach. Tristan swings the door open and a flash of bright blonde hair greets us. My mouth drops. I cannot say a word.

  “Hi, ummm … I wanted to return this to ummm, Judd.” The girl stands on our front porch, in a short sleeve tee and slim fitting jeans, much more than I saw her in last. She has a sweet smile, but I can immediately tell she is older than me. Silence fills the room and suddenly it seems deafening as Tristan glances back with a smirk and she continues to bat her eyelashes in my direction. What do I do?

  “Ahhhh …” I try to speak, but my tongue folds in on me and decides no way, not going to do it.

  Tristan clears his throat and looks back at the girl, wiping the shitty grin off his face. “Yeah, that’s my little brother. Umm, here,” he says, pulling the wallet out of her hand and handing it back to me before stepping outside. “Let’s go outside to talk.”

  After he pulls the door closed behind him, I’m so stunned that I could swear my brain just shut down. Still, like a magnet my ear is pulled along with the door and glued to the hard wood surface instantly.

  “Do you know he is only fifteen? He’s just a kid. What were you thinking?” His voice is muffled but I can still make out every word.

  “Geez, I didn’t know,” she snaps back. “Relax, it’s not like I’m going to expect him to marry me or anything. We both just drank too much and one thing led to another. It didn’t dawn on me that he was your brother.”

  “Well he is going through a lot right now so I really doubt …” my brother starts, but her pleading tone cuts him off.

  “I know, I know. I heard what happened and I didn’t put two and two together until I woke up this morning and saw his wallet. I saw his name and address and realized that he is your younger brother.” She pauses and I crush my ear to the door harder to strain to hear. “I’m so sorry to hear. Will you still be at graduation?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be there. My mom would have ….” His voice trails and I hear an emptiness in his words as if he is holding back so much more than he is putting on. Taking an immediate detour, his voice kicks up a notch, “Judd tells me he used condoms? So I assume I can tell him you are not carrying his child.”

  “Oh my gosh, don’t say that. I am graduating in just a few weeks. We were safe … don’t worry. He had some in his wallet.”

  “Well, he was a virgin up until last night, so I guess he was just prepared,” my brother chuckles and I want to die from the amount of information he is giving out. “So, if he asks what all happened, what should I tell him?”

  I want to vomit.

  “Weeeellll, here,” she draws out the first part of the comment in a flirtatious tone, “Give him this and tell him I had a really good time.”

  Laughter followed by the door knob turning has me lunging away from the door and clear to the other side of the room. I shove my hands in my pockets and try my best to look bored all while my insides are jumping.

  I look up as Tristan makes his way to me with a sneaky smirk on his face and a small square of paper in his hand.

  “Here you go,” he holds the paper out and I grab it hesitantly, my thumb sliding across the smooth crisp edges before I hold it up to see what is on it. “Congratulations stud, apparently you must have rocked her world,” he spits out a laugh as I look the note over.

  Friday night comes in a blink of an eye and I am more than ready. I stroll into the gymnasium to grab my cap and gown and am immediately greeted with Evan’s sarcastic mouth.

  “Man, let’s ditch this. Who needs to graduate, anyways? There’s a street corner that looks highly profitable that I had my eye on. There are plenty of women that would pay good money for this body.”

  Laughing, I slip my gown over my shoulders and start heading to the football field. Everyone is already lining up in rows and calmly waiting for the music to start, although inside surely they are all bouncing around like me.

  A while later my entire body is wound tight with anxiety and anticipation, music finally belts out over the sound system. A teacher motions for the first person in each line to slowly walk to their designated seat and I let out a relieved breath. My feet begin to follow along with the person in front of me, but walking slowly is a challenge. What I really want to do is hightail it up front, grab my diploma and toss my cap out my truck window as I drive away. However, that’s not going to happen so I do as the teacher instructs and stroll to the second row of seats.

  Once I’m in my seat, my eyes wander to the sea of people filling up the bleachers. It’s not likely that he changed his mind and even more doubtful that I would be able to spot him in the crowd, but I look for Tristan anyways. Of course, disappointment fills my heart once again as I find no trace of him.

  The last four people take their seat and the principal steps up to the podium. Minutes stretch by with speech after speech, although it’s all garbled words as my mind swims through thoughts. Tristan’s not here. Mom’s not here and Dad’s not here. I look around again at all the faces in the crowd, some old, some young and nearly all of them with a huge smile portraying just how proud they are to watch someone they love graduate into life.

  “Judd Michaels to the University of California.”

  My head snaps to attention and I stare at my peers before noticing a couple bodies here and there standing. Oh shit! I bolt to my feet and smile; my face flamed with embarrassment for being caught in a daydream while they were announcing scholarships. Loud cheers arise, but the loudest of them all is my obnoxious best friend.

  “Judd the stud!” he belts out with a loud whistle as all the members of the football team join in with whoops and hollers.

  I lower my head, grateful that no one seemed to notice my lack of attention on one of the biggest days of my life.

  The seconds draw out in slow motion until one by one each of the kids that I have spent years growing up with heads to the stage. My row stands and forms a line. I take this moment to make eye contact with Evan standing six bodies in front of me. He flashes me a huge grin and a bit of nerves takes hold, leaving my hands jittery and my stomach flipping in excitement.

  “Justice Allen Whithers,” the first name in my row is called out. I anxiously watch as each person shakes hands with our superintendent then proudly grasps their diploma; that tiny certificate that signifies over a decade of learning, staying awake for eight hours a day and anxiously waiting for this day to come.

  “Evan Dane Jansen.”

  The superintendent of the school waits while he casually struts up, making a complete spectacle as usual. Evan comes to a stop and sticks his hand out, crossing it over to grab his diploma. Of course with Evan you can never expect to be serious. He slaps his hand sideways against the superintendants hand, grabs hold of his forearm then moves his hand down into a fist grip before grabbing his certificate.

  Our superintendent seems taken aback at first, but when a loud cry of laughter moves over the entire student body, he soon joins in. Nodding his head, he says something to Evan and they resign to a normal serious hand shake. I cheer on my friend as he pumps his fist in the air and hops off the stage. A few more names are called and then the moment I’ve been waiting for is upon me.

  “Anthon
y Judd Michaels” the voice rings in my ears, beckoning me forward.

  One-by-one, I step up the stairs and outstretch my hand. It falls down on the smooth rolled form and a huge breath escapes me. My name is shouted out in several directions from my classmates, but my mind is so loud it all fades out as I shake the superintendent’s hand. Finally, I’m moving forward.

  AFTER TEN MINUTES OF scurrying around to reclaim my cap, forty five minutes of mingling and a whole lot of pictures with classmates, we’re on our way.

  “So Tyler’s parent’s said it’s cool?”

  Evan laughs as we wind along a dirt road out in the middle of nowhere, behind a line of cars all heading to our graduation party.

  “Yeah,” Evan keeps his eyes on the road as we turn past a huge metal gate onto a private lane that leads up to Tyler’s parent’s 52 acres of farm land. “They only have one rule and that is for everyone to turn their keys in at the door.”

  I laugh as we pull into a field where all the cars are parking side-by-side. A worn looking barn sits to the right side of the field with loads of people slowly trickling in, all carrying coolers while some lug in band equipment.

  “Evan, keys?” Tyler hollers from behind us as we hop out of the jeep.

  “Yeah,” he yells back, tossing them in the air. Tyler catches them and makes his way around, gathering more from others that are hopping out of their cars. “I’m the sober tonight though, so I’ll need them back around midnight. We have too much shit to do tomorrow for me to be hitting the bottle,” he calls out loud enough that myself, Tyler, Matt and Nick get his drift.

  We join up with a couple of our classmates as we walk inside the dilapidated barn. A band is setting up in the corner, several people are milling about with drinks in their hands and the party is already underway. I grab the nozzle of the keg sunk into a pile of dirt in the corner and watch my cup slowly rise to the rim with a thick layer of sudsy froth nearly spilling over the edge.