Catch My Breath

by Wendy L. Wilson

  “How much later was it before you asked her to marry you?” I have no idea why I ask this. It literally spills out of my mouth as if I have no control over my body, but it gets his attention fast.

  He spins his head around and a burst of laugher erupts from him, wearing away some of the shock from what I just asked.

  “Well now that is fast.” Laughing hard, he crosses his hands across his waist and leans forward. “Are you asking my permission, Judd?” My eyes widen and I start to speak up to explain that Alyssa and I aren’t quite ready for that yet but then he adds, “It’s ok … I’m only teasing you.”

  I sigh, relaxing back in the chair.

  “It was a couple months later … the summer after we graduated actually. It was fast, but we didn’t want to wait.”

  I snicker at his excitement and the glimmer in his eyes as he speaks.

  He goes on, “Ohhhh, but our parents and friends most definitely did not approve. Her parents went ballistic, forbidding us from seeing each other and we broke up; took time away from each other. We actually let others decide that we didn’t know what we felt. It went on like that for years.”

  Looking at him in an utter state of confusion, I now realize I am on the edge of my seat, wanting desperately to know what happened; even though I know where the story goes.

  “We eventually got married despite our parents disliking each of us then we had Andrea. It was a struggle, but we stuck it out. After Abby and Alyssa, we finally decided to live our own lives and we moved here; left everything else behind. We figured out that our love started out fast and effortlessly, so why let everyone around us tell us that it was wrong? We were in love, bottom line. Once we stopped letting others dictate our lives for us, things became easy again; that’s when that same love we felt in the beginning came back.” He looks at me with a wide smile and I automatically glance over to Alyssa in the window as I make my way to the grill so I can check on dinner.

  Alex speaks up again, breaking me out of my thoughts, “So Judd, I’ve managed to talk your ear off and wear myself out. Tell me about yourself. Are your parents from around these parts?”

  I’ve never went down this road with anyone; discussing my parents, so the question completely throws me for a loop. “Ahhh, no. I mean well, they went to school in Rosemore like me.”

  “What do they do now?” Alex asks, seeming generally interested in me and my family.

  After flipping the meat and seeing that it is nearly done, I head back to the table and think over his questions.

  Memories of my family sit on a thin line in my mind. I love thinking about my mom, yet I try not to because it hurts so much. Then there is Dad; I stay far away from those thoughts. They always lead me to the night he left and that only confuses me. To this day I still don’t understand what happened. Looking over at Alyssa’s father and the desperation in his eyes, thinking about this relentless disease that is trying to pull him away from this earth, I decide to open up.

  “Actually my mom died four years ago and I haven’t seen my dad since I was nine.”

  I put it out there and say it out loud, for one of the first times in my life and it doesn’t kill me. It stings, but I’m still standing. I’ve always thought it would strike me dead if I had to relive the entire experience. I stay away from the subject like the plague, steering it in any direction other than my past out of fear of the pain overwhelming me.

  Nodding his head and pressing his lips into a tight line, I see the sympathy in his eyes and it doesn’t bother me like it once did. “Well that’s a shame. Do mind if I ask what happened?” he pushes on and for some reason I just keep opening up, reliving the night my dad left and made it clear to us that we were simply a mistake. The whole scene flickers through my mind before I can even open my mouth and the ache in my heart thunders just as loudly as it did back then.

  “Come on Jake,” I say in a loud whisper, bouncing up and down on the balls of my feet. “I hear them turning on the movie.”

  “Ok, I’m ready. I got fruit snacks and some chips.” He holds them up with a glimmer in his wide eyes and a devilish smile.

  Jerking the chips out of his hand and tossing them under the bed, I lean closer and whisper, “Chips are too noisy … we’ll go with the fruit snacks. Now, shhhh.” I crack the door open, slowly and easily, barely pulling on it so it doesn’t make the never-failing squeak noise that it does when Mom comes in to check on us. That is usually our cue that they are getting ready to sit down and watch a movie deemed unworthy for child eyes.

  The door comes open soundlessly, a skill I learned after the first time when that squeal sent us tumbling back to bed, our hearts thudding in our ears with fear that we had been caught. Once I have the door fully open, I glance down the hall. Music filters out of Tristan’s room with his door sealed shut. Looking the other way, I find a dark living room with the soft glow of the TV flickering off the ceiling and walls. I wave my hand over my shoulder, motioning for Jake to follow. Dropping to our knees, we crawl down the hall in complete stealth mode, slithering along the floor with nothing but the quiet sound of our stomachs scraping the carpet.

  When I see the back of the huge recliner that sits against the wall at the entrance of the living room, I know we’ve reached our rendezvous point. Settling down on our bellies, I kick my feet up behind me and peer around the edge of the chair where we can barely make out the screen of the TV. I immediately relax when I see a movie we’ve watched before and know this isn’t one that will have me dragging my brother back to bed before we see more than either of our eyes can handle.

  Half way into the movie, our gummy candies are eaten with the wrappers shoved under the chair and my eyes slowly slumped down, threatening to close. Widening my eyes, I focus on the movie then glance over to Jake. His face is down in the carpet with a drop of slobber dripping from the corner of his mouth. Gross. Well, I’m not going to miss the movie.

  Turning back to catch up on the show, I quickly clasp my hands over my eyes as a girl in the movie creeps into her basement, alone and with nothing but a flashlight. Stupid. Her flashlight drops to the ground in the dark room and scraping sounds in the distance. No way. I slam my face to the ground, fearful to watch the TV and see what happens. I’ll scream.

  Keeping my head down, my eyes get heavier and heavier until ….

  “I can’t do this! I can’t! I won’t!” Dad’s voice booms like a crack of thunder.

  I bolt up from the carpet to the sound of glass shattering and a piercing scream. Pushing up to my hands and knees in a hurry, I look around the recliner to get a view of what is happening.

  I'm not sure how long I was wisked away in dreamland or what transpired between movie time and now, but looking around I see a completely different scene from before.

  Mom pulls herself up off the floor by latching onto the arm of the couch and Dad has a crazed look in his eyes, impatiently pacing back and forth a few feet away in front of her. Why doesn’t he help her? They both look scared; frightened.

  I glance down at Jake still flat-on-his-face-passed-out-sawing-logs asleep. Great! The one rule we set for ourselves during operation ‘Crawl in Movie’: never fall asleep. It figures, not only did he fall asleep, we both did.

  “Scott, I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say,” she pleads, tears streaming down her face.

  "Hailey, do you know what this is doing to me? Do you even care?!" he shouts out.

  Looking around, I survey the situation and see a turned over lamp with shards of thick, amber glass littered across the floor. Mom is finally standing, but seems unstable, leaning some of her weight onto the end table which used to house the lamp.

  "I just don't think I can do this. I've questioned this for years." He places his hands to his side and looks down with Mom staring at him in confusion.

  "What do you mean?" she barely gets out between the tears as she lowers herself onto the edge of the couch.

  He snaps his head back up and squints his eyes in an angry glare.<
br />
  "I mean I cannot do this anymore." He motions between her and him. "You know what? I never wanted this in the first place. We got stuck together when you got pregnant … you know that." He sighs and Mom dumps her head into her lap, sobbing uncontrollably.

  “Wait, I don’t understand. I thought …” Mom manages to get out in a quivering voice.

  I have no clue what Dad is talking about either, but I want so badly to go hug Mom. I hate seeing her hurt. He knows she’s been getting clumsier lately, she’s even been to the doctor several times, but I just don’t understand why Dad doesn’t go over to tell her it’s alright.

  They assume I don’t notice little things like her losing her balance and the way her legs don’t seem to cooperate as they once did. Another thing I haven’t missed sight of is how Dad prefers to keep us all at a distance lately. He watches her when she cries, he even looks sad for her, but he doesn’t hug her like me and my brothers do. I don't understand it, and it bothers me more than they see.

  The other day, out of the blue, Mom ran to her room after one of her spells. Tristan was loading the dishwasher and Jake was taking out the trash, but she ran right past me in the hall as I went to help my brothers with our chores. Once her quiet sobs filtered through the air, I snuck back and peeked through the crack in her door. She sat on the bed, her face buried in the pillow crying. Dad sat on the floor in front of her with a sad expression on his face, just watching as she shouldered the pain alone. A little while later she came out with a painted on smile pretending like nothing was wrong.

  "God, I have been trying to make this work. That's why we had Judd, but then you got pregnant again, and it just seems like too much. You know, I never even wanted kids, Hailey. Did you know that? Do you even think we would have stayed together if you wouldn't have gotten pregnant with Tristan?"

  Watching the entire scene unfold, what he is saying finally starts to sink in. Is he saying we are a mistake?

  Looking up through tear streaked eyes her voice comes out shaky and confused, "Where is this coming from? I don’t understand where all this is coming from. You could have left years ago, if that were true. You’re just scared and I am, too,” she huffs out. “It doesn’t have to be like this, Scott."

  I look back over to Mom and see that she has stood up and is inching closer to Dad, her hands out as if she is trying to tame a wild stallion.

  "Hailey, no, please! I just realized I never wanted this and now with you being sick...I’m just...I'm out!"

  Mom runs to Dad, tripping over her feet in the process and grabs onto his arms before she tumbles to the floor again.

  "You don't mean that … you don't! I know you're just scared, but I know you can do this. I know you can," Mom's voice softens and I crane my neck to watch. “We’ll face this together.”

  She has her arms against his chest and for a moment I think everything is better; that the fight is over, but it isn't.

  Grabbing her by the arms, he shoves her away, yelling with more anger than I’ve ever heard; the sound of a stranger’s voice, not my dad’s.

  "It’s over! This is over!" He points his fingers towards the hall where all our rooms are located and then lowers his voice; almost too quiet for me to make out. "This was a mistake...they were a mistake and this is not the future I want."

  Confusion and disbelief fill my mind and I begin to rise up to make my presence known. I need to defend my mother, but suddenly hands grip the back of my shirt and pull me back into the hall. Tilting my head, I see Tristan’s face above me, crumpled into a scowl.

  "Get back to bed now," he says in an angry tone.

  My first instinct is to protest, but one look into his eyes and I know I better let this go. Something about the way he continues to look over the edge of the recliner with a storm of rage in his eyes that tells me I better listen.

  Not even a second after I am within the safety of my bedroom, he rushes back out and down the hall without another word. What had been only the raised voice of my father with a background melody of my mother’s hurtful sobs is soon joined by Tristan’s amplified hollers. His furious tone rises over Dad’s and immediately muffles out Mom’s cries.

  “Don’t you ever … ever touch her or shove her! Get the hell out of here! We don’t want you anymore than you want us! We don’t need you!” The anger in his voice sends chills down my spine. “Leave, just leave!” he blares out.

  “Tristan …” Mom’s voice calls out as I lean in the doorway of my room, trying to strain to see what all is going on. “Honey, you don’t under …”

  “Get out I said,” Tristan’s shrill tone vibrates through me, bringing tears to my eyes.

  What’s going on? Why is everyone yelling at each other?

  Something crashes in the other room and I flinch against the door frame, fear gripping every corner of my soul.

  “Get the hell out of here,” he yells out again, his voice laced in rage.

  Turning my body, I slowly slide down the wall beside my door much like the tears that now drip down my face. With my body planted into a ball on the floor, I think over everything that I heard, feeling lifeless and drained of emotion. Pushing my palms over my ears as more noise ignites from the living room, I look up at the ceiling not understanding, yet not sure that I want to.

  A few minutes later, a muffled slamming noise penetrates the protection of my hands over my ears and all goes quiet. Assuming it was the front door, I race to my window; watching just as Dad climbs into his car and speeds out of the driveway.

  My heart hammers in my throat and I wonder when he will be back? Maybe he is leaving to cool off. With that single thought, his words come back to me, “I’m done … I’m out”, “I never wanted this”, “It’s over”, “They are a mistake”. He didn’t want us...he doesn't want us? He’s not coming back? Rejection, grief and sorrow engulf my heart as my mind spins out of control in a tornado of questions and doubt.

  The door eases open behind me and I watch as Tristan carries Jake in. Folded in his arms like a big baby, I see that somehow he managed to stay asleep.

  I remain quiet, holding back a river of tears as Tristan lays Jake into the bottom mattress of the bunk bed. His jaw is tense and his eyes are red as if he had rubbed them raw before coming into the room.

  "Tristan, is Dad coming back?" I ask quietly, not wanting to wake Jake and involve him in this daunting catastrophe.

  Tristan pulls his arms out from beneath Jake’s back, stands straight and levels me with a firm glare that I’ve never seen on his face before. Suddenly my brother looks older; bitter and angry.

  "Judd, go to bed. You're up way too late and you should not have been out of bed anyways," he says calmly and then slowly walks to the door, shutting it without another look my way.

  I turn back to the window and touch my hand to the cold glass, my crushed heart pleading that this whole night is only a dream. It’s at that moment … that solitary second that I recognize the significance of what just happened. This is the last time I will ever see my dad. We’re on our own.

  Blinking my eyes, I look at Alex still waiting for me to go on, so I do, starting with Mom.

  “My mom had ALS for years. My brothers and I watched her get weaker and sicker every day until she just couldn’t do the smallest things for herself,” I fade off, thinking over the last morning I saw her, before going on. “And my dad … you know I’m not sure what happened. He took off one night and the next day my mom broke the news to us that she was sick. The doctors hadn’t yet diagnosed her with ALS. She went through test after test before they figured out what it was, but my dad high-tailed it before we got the news. My brothers and I took care of her. My older brother was with her day and night.”

  I go silent and sit there on the memory of Tristan missing day after day of his Junior and Senior year of high school. He had sacrificed so much back then; I forgot about that until now.

  “Judd,” Alex says my name and I realize I must appear lost in thought. I look up, met with
a grateful smile. “Thank you for telling me all that. I’m sure it wasn’t easy.”

  I nod my head and smile with a lump forming in my throat.

  “I’m glad my daughter has you. You’re good for her and she will need you. There is a plan for everything in life and I can see a magnificent one taking shape right now.” He lets out a sigh and looks out to the yard behind us.

  I stare at him wondering how he can be so strong in such a hopeless time, but movement from my peripheral vision gives me the answer. Through the window I view all the girls laughing hysterically like they are having a party and I completely get why he would hold on so tight; why my mom held on despite the pain: love.

  Love can bleed light through the darkest clouds. It can give hope when there is absolutely none and it can give you the strength to break free when you are chained down and being pulled into a pit of despair. It breathes life into vacant lungs and helps you catch your breath when you have no air to breathe; I know this.

  I get up and walk back to the grill as Alex sits in silence. After taking the meat and corn off the grill, we head back inside and discover three giggling girls.

  “So what’s so funny,” I whisper next to Alyssa’s ear as we all take a seat at the kitchen table.

  We both get settled across from Abby, with her parents sat at each end of the table. Leaning towards me, she places her hand on my thigh to support herself from falling over.

  “Mom was checking if we were being safe,” she says at a barely audible level directly into my ear.

  I instantly shift around in my seat, now uneasy about her hand being where it is and scared to death that someone heard her. Looking around, I fight the urge to grab her hand and move it back to her own body. Everyone digs in, dishing up and passing bowls from one person to the next, oblivious to us. Abby is the only one that looks directly at me as I finish dishing up my plate and grab my steak knife. Oh God, what is she thinking?