The Air He Breathes

by Brittainy C. Cherry

  “A lot of things scare me. A lot of things completely terrify me, but being held by you isn’t one of them anymore.”

  My mouth parted as he traced my bottom lip with his finger. He softly lifted my chin up so he could kiss me slowly and gently. “I adore you,” he whispered against my lips.

  “I adore you,” I replied.

  His fingers rested on my chest, and he felt my heartbeats. I placed my hands over his chest, feeling his. “I like this,” he whispered against my lips.

  “I like this too,” I replied.

  His eyes dilated, and he breathed me in. I breathed him in too, becoming slightly addicted to his entire being. He smelled like the wind that pushed through the most beautiful pine trees in the forest: refreshing, comforting, peaceful. Like home. It had been so long since I had felt like I was home.

  We took in each other’s breaths, silently begging for a little bit more. We headed to my bedroom, where our clothes fell off and our lips came together.

  “Everyone in town thinks this is wrong. Everyone thinks we are a ticking time bomb set to explode any second,” I explained. “And I am completely positive that I’m going to somehow manage to mess this up. Then everyone will say, ‘I told you so.’”

  “For a second let’s pretend that they are right. Let’s pretend that at the end of this, we don’t end up happy.” He sighed against my skin, his lips rolling over my bare stomach. “But as long as air moves in and out of my lungs,”—his tongue danced against the edge of my panties—“as long as I breathe, I will fight for you. I will fight for us.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Elizabeth

  I fell in love with the idea of him first. I fell in love with the idea of a man who could someday make me laugh, smile, and cry all at once. I fell in love with the idea of him loving me for my brokenness, for my pained heart. I fell in love with the idea of his kisses, his touch, his warmth.

  And then, one chilly morning, I walked onto my front porch with a steaming coffee mug in my hand. He was lying in the snow-covered grass, making snow angels and looking up at the clouds with Emma beside him. They fought all the time, but in the silliest of ways. That morning, they were arguing about what animal they saw. Tristan saw a giraffe cloud, while Emma swore it was a penguin, so after a while, he pretended to see the penguin too.

  Emma’s lips spread into a grin, and the two grew silent as they moved their legs and arms to perfect their snow angels.

  It was in that silence that I knew. I loved him. I loved him so, so much. It wasn’t a dream anymore, nor was it the simple idea of loving him.

  It was real.

  It was true.

  He was love.

  He made me smile. He made me happy. He made me laugh in a world that was determined to make me cry.

  Tears formed in my eyes, and I tried to understand how—how could it be that I was allowed to love such a man who also loved me?

  It was such a special feeling to love and be loved in return. To find a man who not only loved you, but cherished the best part of you—your baby girl. I was blessed more than words could ever say.

  Emma and I loved Tristan completely, and he loved us the same. Maybe he loved our scars the most. Maybe the truest form of love grew from the deepest kinds of pain.

  It was funny how everything came to be. We first lied to one another, using each other to hold on to the past, and then we accidentally fell in love.

  I knew I had to tell him about the accident. I knew I had to let him know, but I couldn’t that morning. That morning, I needed him to know one thing and one thing only.

  The two stood up from the grass. Emma hurried into the house for breakfast, and I stayed on the porch, leaning against the railing with a smile that was crafted just for Tristan. His hands were stuffed into his jeans, and he had a few grass clippings clinging to his shirt and his damp hair. I was certain Emma had thrown the grass at him. As his foot hit the top step, he kept smiling my way and walked past me to enter the house.

  “I love you,” I said.

  He turned to me and smiled even wider.

  Because he already knew.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Elizabeth

  Late one night, I stood in my closet, staring at all of Steven’s clothes. Inhaling deeply, I began to take them all off the hangers. I removed everything from the dressers. I took everything out of the drawers.

  Exhaling slowly, I boxed them up to give away.

  Next, I moved to my bed, and I turned my sheets down.

  I was ready to fully let Tristan into my life, and I knew that meant I had to start letting go of Steven. In order to truly begin to move on, I knew I had to tell Tristan about the accident. He deserved to know, and needed to know. If he truly meant the words he spoke about fighting for me—for us—then no matter what, we would be okay.

  At least that was what I hoped. Yet a large part of me knew we wouldn’t have been okay after this. Our ticking time bomb was growing louder each day.

  “We need to talk,” I said to Tristan as we stood on my porch. “About when Tanner came over before the wedding.”

  “Did he hurt you?” Tristan asked. His hand brushed against my cheek, and he stepped into the foyer of the house, close to me. I stepped back. “What did he say?”

  The words were on the tip of my tongue, right there, but I knew if I told him, those small touches would leave me forever. My lips parted to try to make him understand, but I knew if I told him what Tanner had found, I would lose him. I wasn’t ready to let go of the dream we’d been dreaming.

  “Baby… Why are you crying?” he asked. I hadn’t even noticed the tears falling against my cheeks. More tears began to form in my eyes, and he stepped closer to me. “Lizzie, what’s wrong?”

  I shook my head back and forth. “Nothing, nothing. Do you think… Will you just hold me for a few minutes?”

  His arms wrapped around my body, and he held me tight. I breathed in his scent, almost certain that if I told him the truth—which I knew I had to do—I would lose that moment. I wouldn’t be held by him anymore, I wouldn’t be touched by him, I wouldn’t be loved by him. Tristan’s fingers slowly started rubbing my back in a circular motion as I pulled him closer, trying to hold onto something I felt as if I’d already lost.

  “You know you can trust me, right? You know you can always tell me anything. I’m always here for you,” he swore.

  Pulling away from him, I gave him a tight smile. “I just need rest, that’s all.”

  “Then let’s go to bed.” He nodded, slowly placing his hand on my lower back to guide me to my bedroom.

  “I mean alone. I just need a night by myself.”

  The disappointment swimming in his stormy eyes broke my heart, but he gave me a sad grin. “Yeah, of course.”

  “We’ll talk tomorrow,” I promised. “I’ll stop by Mr. Henson’s shop.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed. “Sounds like a plan.” He apprehensively rubbed the back of his neck. “Are we okay?” he whispered, his nerves loud and clear in his tone. I nodded once. He wrapped his hands around my head and rested his lips against my forehead. “I love you, Lizzie.”

  “I love you too,” I replied.

  He flinched. “Then why does it feel like we’re saying goodbye?”

  Because I think we are.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Tristan

  April 6th, 2014

  One Day Until Goodbye

  “I’m dead,” I whispered to myself, staring into the bathroom mirror. The pint of whiskey sat emptied on the counter, the orange pill bottle lay on its side, and my vision blurred. I could hear my parents outside the bathroom, talking about last minute details for the day, the plans for the service, and our transportation from the church to the cemetery.

  “I’m dead,” I repeated. My tie hung around my neck, waiting to be tied. I blinked once, and when I opened my eyes Jamie was standing in front of me, tying my tie.

  “What’s wrong, baby?” she whispere
d, as water filled my eyes. I lifted my hand and ran it against her soft cheek. “Why are you falling apart?”

  “I’m dead, Jamie, I’m dead,” I sobbed, unable to control my howls. “I want this to be over. I want this to stop. I don’t want to be here anymore.”

  “Shh,” she whispered, placing her lips near my ear. “Baby, I need you to breathe. It’s okay.”

  “Nothing’s okay. Nothing’s okay.”

  I heard pounding on the bathroom door. “Tristan! It’s Dad. Son, let me in.”

  I couldn’t, though. I was dead. I was dead.

  Jamie looked down at the sink and picked up the emptied pill bottle and whiskey pint. “Baby, what did you do?” My back slid down the wall and I sat against the tub, sobbing. Jamie rushed over to me. “Tris, you have to throw up now.”

  “I can’t… I can’t…” My hands covered my face, everything a blur. My mind was playing tricks on me. I was fading. I could feel myself fading.

  “Baby, think of Charlie. He wouldn’t want you like this. Come on.” She moved me to the toilet. “Don’t do this, Tris.”

  I started to throw up. Everything inside me burned, and when the whiskey and pills rose up from my stomach, my throat was set on fire.

  I fell back against the wall once I finished. My eyes opened, and Jamie was gone—she had never been there to begin with. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered, running my hands through my hair. What was I going to do? How was I going to survive?

  “Tristan, please, let us know you’re okay!” Mom and Dad shouted from outside.

  “I’m good,” I managed to lie to them. I heard Mom’s sigh of relief. “I’ll be out in a few.”

  I could almost feel Dad’s hand on my shoulder, trying to bring me comfort. “All right, Son. We’ll be right here when you’re ready. We’re not going anywhere.”

  Elizabeth had said she would meet me at Mr. Henson’s shop the next day, but at the last minute she had a change of plans. Five days passed without us actually speaking. Her window blinds had been drawn all week, and whenever I knocked on her door, it seemed as if she was on her way out, or simply pretending I didn’t exist.

  I stopped in at Savory & Sweet to see if she was working and ran into Faye yelling at a customer about how the scrambled eggs were not super runny. “Faye, hey,” I said, interrupting her argument.

  She twisted around on her heels and placed her hands on her hips. I could see the uncertainty in her eyes. The last time we’d seen each other was when I attacked Tanner at the bar, and I could tell she was still unsure how to address me. I’d been hearing everyone in town whispering about me, and I was sure lies had somehow crawled their way into Faye’s eardrums.

  “Hey,” she replied.

  “Is Elizabeth working today?”

  “She’s out sick…she has been for a few days.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  “Why didn’t you just walk next door and check on her? Did you guys get into a fight or something?” She tensed up. “Is she okay?”

  “We didn’t get into a fight. At least, I don’t think we did. She just…” I brushed my finger under my nose and cleared my throat. “She’s just not talking to me, and I’m not sure why. Did she happen to say anything to you? I know you’re her best friend and…”

  “I think you should go, Tristan.” I could tell she didn’t believe me. I could tell she didn’t believe that I hadn’t hurt Elizabeth from the way every inch of her was alarmed.

  I nodded, and as I opened the door to step outside, I paused. “Faye, I love her. I get why you’re wary of me, and I understand why you might even hate me. For a long time I was a monster. After Jamie and Charlie died, I turned into this beast that I didn’t even recognize. I’m sorry if I scared you the night of her birthday party, and I’m sorry I snapped, but…I would never hurt her. She’s…” I pressed my fist against my mouth and bit the inside of my cheek to keep my emotions at bay. “Last year I died right alongside my wife and kid. I checked out of reality and left this world. I was fine being gone, because being alive hurt; it hurt every fucking day. Then Lizzie came and even though I was the walking dead, she saw past it. Even though I was death, she took the time to resuscitate me. She breathed life back into my soul. She brought me back from the shadows. Now she’s not answering my calls or looking my way. I’m falling apart because I think she’s hurting and I can’t help her breathe like she helped me. So yeah, you should hate me. Please, hate the living shit out of me. I deserve it, and because of Elizabeth I can handle it. I’m alive again. But if you could just do me a favor and go check on her, if you could help her breathe for a little while, that would mean the world to me.”

  I walked out of the café and stuffed my hands into my jeans pockets.

  “Tristan!” I turned around to see Faye staring my way. Her eyes were softer. Her strong stance was a mere memory.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’ll check on her,” she promised. “I’ll help her.”

  When I headed to Mr. Henson’s shop, I saw Tanner through the window, which made me hurry over. I knew he was probably giving Mr. Henson a hard time about selling his shop again. I wished the dude would give him a break.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, the bell over the door sounding off.

  Tanner turned to me with a sly smile on his face. “Just talking business.”

  I looked at Mr. Henson, who was red in the face. He hardly ever got upset, but I could tell Tanner had said something that bothered him. “Maybe you should go, Tanner.”

  “Give me a break, Tristan. I was just having a friendly chat with Mr. Henson here.” Tanner picked up a deck of tarot cards and started shuffling them in his hand. “You think you can do a reading for me real fast, Mr. Henson?”

  My friend stayed quiet.

  “Tanner, leave.”

  He smirked and leaned in toward Mr. Henson. “You think the reading will say that you’re giving me this space? Is that why you won’t do it? You don’t want to see the truth?”

  My hand landed against Tanner’s shoulder, and he flinched. Good. The way he was belittling Mr. Henson had my blood boiling. “It’s time for you to go.”

  Mr. Henson sighed with relief at me taking hold of the situation, and he walked off toward the back room.

  Tanner slung my hand off and dusted off his outfit. “Chill out, Tristan. I was just having fun with the old man.”

  “You need to go.”

  “You’re right, I do. Some people have real jobs to do. But hey, I’m glad to hear that you and Liz were still able to work things out after she told you about the accident. That’s cool. I mean, hell, you’re a better person than me. I don’t think I could even deal with being around a person who was involved in such a thing.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  He arched an eyebrow. “You mean, you don’t know? Shit…Liz said she told you.”

  “Told me? Told me what?”

  “That her husband was the one driving the car that slammed into your family’s car.” He narrowed his eyes. “She really didn’t tell you?”

  My throat dried out, and part of me considered that he could be lying. Tanner hated me because I loved Elizabeth. He was a sneaky asshole who made it his job to get underneath people’s skin, and now he was determined to get underneath mine.

  The last thing he said was that he was sorry and hadn’t meant to start any trouble. He said he was happy that Elizabeth and I had found each other. He said all he wanted was for her to be happy, but I knew that all his words of comfort were full of shit.

  That night, I sat on my bed with my cell phone in my hand, and I called my Dad. I didn’t say a word when he answered, but hearing his voice was good. It was needed.

  “Tristan,” he said. I could almost hear the relief in his tones. “Hey, Son. Mom said you called her a while back and didn’t speak. She was also convinced that she ran into you when she went to Meadows Creek to see the market, but I thought it was just her mind playing tricks on her.” He paused. “You’
re not going to talk, are you?” He paused again. “That’s fine. I’ve always been a bit of a talker.”

  That was a lie—Dad had always been the quiet one of my parents, much more of a listener. I put the phone on speaker and lay back on my bed, closing my eyes as Dad caught me up on everything I’d missed. “Your grandparents are in town staying with your mom and me, and I think it’s safe to say they are driving me crazy. They are having their house remodeled, and your mom thought it would be a good idea to have them stay at our place. They’ve been here for three weeks already, and I’ve been through more gin than I thought humanly possible.

  “Oh! And your mom somehow talked me into taking a workout class with her because she worries about my healthy diet of Doritos and soda. So I showed up to the class—turned out I was the only man there. I ended up doing Zumba for an hour straight. Lucky for me my hips don’t lie and I was a natural.”

  I snickered.

  He talked to me late into the night as I moved from room to room, listening to him tell me stories, listening to him talk about sports and how the Packers were still the top team in the NFL. At one point he cracked open a beer, and I opened one too. It almost felt as if we were drinking together.

  When it was past midnight, he told me he needed to get to bed. He told me he loved me and would always be on the other end of the line if I ever just needed someone to talk my way.

  Right before I went to hang up, my lips parted. “Thanks, Dad.”

  I heard his voice crack and emotion take over him. “Anytime, Son. Call whenever you need to, day or night. And when you’re ready to come back, we’ll be here. We’ll be right here when you’re ready. We’re not going anywhere.”

  The world needed more parents like mine.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Elizabeth

  “You have four seconds to open this door before I come busting in to find you, woman!” Faye shouted on my front porch. When I opened the door, she gasped. “For the love of God, when was the last time you showered?”