Just Breathe

by Mataya, Tamara

  “Yes it is.” He puts the money in his pocket. “Well, I should get going.”

  “Okay.” I walk him to the door in time to see Dominic’s car pull up in front of the house. “Shit,” I say quietly. Dominic gets out of the car.

  Clay’s eyes narrow and ricochet from Dominic to his car, back to him again, then back to me.

  “Is he why you haven’t been calling me lately? Getting your product from someone else? Look at that car. He’s not a small time dealer like me. You’re playing with the big time boys, Elle?”

  He thinks Dominic is a rival dealer?

  “It’s not like that, Clay.”

  Dominic is coming up the walk and smiles at me and my dealer. Former dealer. Oh my god, Clay needs to go.

  I keep my voice low. “Okay, Clay, well, thanks for stopping by. I’ll call you in a couple weeks.” The urge to shove him away from the house is so strong I have to jam my hands into my pockets.

  Dominic strides up the stairs as Clay passes him, giving him the stink-eye, sizing him up then turning to me.

  “You know,” Clay says. “I may not be as fancy as he is, but you’ll never find better than me. Whatever he does for you, I’ll top it. I may be small time in comparison,” he waves at Dominic’s car, “but I’m honest, and I’ll work my ass off to make you happy.”

  I could just die now.

  Dominic looks confused.

  “It’s about quality,” Clay concludes. “And you won’t ever find better than me. Think about that, Elle.”

  “Okay, Clay,” I say brightly. Oh my god, go away! “See you later. I’ll call you in a couple weeks.”

  He stares hard at Dominic and walks away, getting into his truck. He revs his engine and pulls away from the curb, speeding off.

  “Who was that charmer?” Dominic asks.

  Um...what can I say?

  “Clay.”

  “Is he an ex?”

  “Yes!” Thanks for providing that excuse! “No.” Him being my ex doesn’t work—why would my ex be here? That’s sketchy. “He’s just a guy friend, but recently told me he has feelings for me, and wanted to be more than friends.”

  “Ah. So you’ve been avoiding him?”

  I nod. “It got awkward and I haven’t been calling him.”

  “Ah. And then I show up at just the wrong time.”

  “That’s all right.” I lean forward and give him a hug. “I’m always happy to see you.”

  I can feel his body relax. He thought it was an ex, when in reality it was so much worse. I squeeze him tighter and debate coming clean. I can do this. I’ll say, Dominic, I know you’re really anti-drug, and you have reason to be, which is why I’ve been lying to you. Not directly, just sort of by omission. But I have to tell you something. I—

  “Thanks for trusting me with the truth. It must have been so awkward for you,” he says quietly.

  Yeah, definitely not coming clean about Clay being my dealer and me being a pothead. Pulling back, I run my hands up his arms.

  “It was no big deal. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

  “I was just driving by, and wondered if you wanted to get some supper?”

  “Aww, Nick and Kennedy are bringing back Chinese food. They should be back at any minute.”

  “I should have called first.”

  “Do you want to come in? You’re welcome to join us for supper. It’s from Centennial Gardens, best Chinese in town.” Shit. There’s a bong and a big bag of weed on the coffee table. Now is definitely not the ideal time for a tour of the house.

  “Honestly I’m not all that hungry. I’m exhausted, but I wanted to see you.”

  His eyes have dark circles under them, and he’s paler than usual. He definitely looks like he’s been run ragged.

  “I love that you stopped by, and don’t take this the wrong way...” I smile. “You look like crap.”

  He laughs and pulls me into another hug.

  “While I’d love to invite you in and have my way with you, I think what you really need right now is a good night’s sleep. Or three.”

  “It’s sad because it’s true.” He sighs wearily and nuzzles closer.

  “What’s up? Is it just work?”

  “Yeah. Major case. Crazy hours. I’m beginning to feel like I live at the office.”

  It’s true, we haven’t seen much of each other the past week and a bit, and the phone calls have been reduced to short texts. It sucks, but he’s obviously exhausted and I can’t hold that against him. It’s not his fault that people are stubborn and won’t deal with each other.

  “Why can’t we all just get along?” I exclaim, pulling back to look at him.

  He laughs. “Ah, but if they could, I’d be out a job.”

  “An unfortunate truth.” He looks so tired. “Are you okay to drive home, or should I call you a cab?”

  “I’ll be okay to drive.”

  I slip my hands to the back of his neck. “Let me give you a little something to wake you up a bit.”

  When we separate a long moment later, he’s definitely got a spring in his step. “I don’t know how this case is going to go, but I’m going to be working more crazy hours for a while.”

  “That sucks, but it’s your job.”

  “I know. But I’ll miss you like crazy.”

  “Good.” I tug at one of his belt loops. “I’d hate to be the only one.”

  “I’ll call you when I can. We’ll figure something out for when we can get together.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  He leans in and kisses me again. “Goodnight, Elle.”

  This time, I’m the one jazzed up from the kiss. He walks to his car, and I bounce up the steps, close the door, and watch him through the peephole.

  He’s so perfect. I love—

  Nope! I did NOT just think that. It’s too soon.

  I love his car. Yes. I love his car, and his dedication to his work, and his taste in music, and his perfect ass. I like him a lot.

  Nick and Kennedy pull up with the food and park where Dominic’s car was. They’ve got it handled, but I yank open the door and call out to them, “Need any help?”

  “Nope, we’re good!” Kennedy replies, a big brown bag in one hand, purse in the other. Nick follows up the walk with a plastic bag containing cans of soda. We all meet in the kitchen and unpack the food.

  “Do you want to smoke a bowl before we eat or wait until after?” I crack open my can of soda.

  “What, did Clay come already?” Nick opens the ginger chicken.

  “You guys were gone for over an hour.”

  “Ugh, yeah, there was an accident on Centre Street, took forever to get to the restaurant.”

  “Either way, you’re here, there’s food, and weed. So. Before? After?”

  “Both!” Kennedy dumps some rice on her plate.

  My stomach rumbles. “Actually, I’m eating now without you guys. I’m too hungry to wait.”

  “Yeah, me too.” Nick bites the end off a spring roll.

  “Oh, fine, you light-weights. We’ll wait.” Kennedy finishes dishing up her plate.

  When we’re settled in the living room, and have eaten a little, I tell them about Dominic and Clay stopping by at the same time.

  “So?” Nick waits for me to explain.

  “Dominic doesn’t know I smoke weed. He’s pretty anti-drug.”

  “Oh, ew. I don’t like that you’re hiding a large part of who you are to be with him.” Kennedy shakes her head and spears a broccoli with her fork.

  “I guess. It still feels like something I should tell him, you know? But I’m waiting for the right time. It’s sort of hard to weave into a sentence.”

  “The longer you put it off, the worse it will be when you tell him,” Nick says. “Especially if he’s uptight about it to begin with.”

  Time for a subject change. Thinking about telling Dominic about my former addiction makes my stomach feel tight. “Clay was a bit strange, acting as if I was cheating on him wit
h another dealer,” I laugh.

  “What?” Nick tweaks an eyebrow. “He should know he’s not our only one.”

  “Yeah! It was bizarre.”

  “Well, it’s not like you smoke anymore. No wonder Clay thinks you’re cheating on him,” Kennedy quips. “His best customer has stopped smoking!”

  “I have not.” I take a bite of chicken fried rice. “I’m taking a break.”

  “But it’s interesting. Are you stopping smoking for Dominic?” Nick slurps loudly from his can of soda. “Because that’s not cool. I hate when people get in a relationship and lose their identities, just so they can be with that person.”

  “No, it’s not like that. I had to stop for a bit. I was smoking way too much. My intake did increase a couple months ago when...” I trail off, finishing the sentence in my head, when Jason left, and I needed to kill the pain and my ability to feel anything. Can’t say that though, so I cover. “When we moved, I guess.”

  “As long as you’re not changing for some guy.”

  “I’m not, Nicky,” I say reassuringly.

  Nick pushes his plate away and sighs. “Who’s packing the first bowl?”

  “I am.” Kennedy grins. That I’m not tempted to take a toke is either a great sign because I’m not hurting as much—or a terrifying sign because it means I’m happy.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Clutching my purchases to my chest, I push through the bookstore door and exit onto the street. Ten books was probably a bit much, but I couldn’t resist. It’s important to support libraries, but I like showing my support for my favourite authors by buying their books, and shopping at smaller bookstores is my way of stimulating the local economy. At least that’s how I justify completely blowing my budget.

  A fresh stack of shiny new books with that new book smell! Which one should I read first?

  “Sexy As Hell?”

  I freeze as an uncomfortable zing of recognition shoots up my spine at those all-too familiar words spoken by an unexpected, too-familiar voice.

  Jason?

  Jason used to call me that, a play on my name; sexy as h-Elle. Usually, he’d shorten it to just, “Sexy As.”

  I whip around and see his smiling face, startled to find warmth in his eyes. Mine would throw daggers if they could. I step toward him, ushering him away from the door, out of earshot of other pedestrians.

  “You lost the right to call me that.” My voice sounds cold even to me, and it wipes the smile from Jason’s face.

  “I suppose I did.” Jason nods, tucking his hands in his pockets, looking at the ground. “I guess a sorry won’t cut it.”

  “You suppose right,” I mimic sarcastically, crossing my arms, feeling like I might throw up.

  “Look, Elle, about what happened between us—”

  “What happened? You moved away without telling me! It wasn’t an event between us, Jason! It wasn’t some random thing that was out of your hands. It was all you.” There’s no way in hell he is putting any of that off on me, or acting like it was some external event that forced us apart. And there’s no way he’s getting away without giving me my closure!

  Most women would kill to get the chance to confront their evil ex like this. It’s a nice day, I’m looking hotter than ever, dressed in a killer pair of jeans courtesy of Kennedy. I’ve moved on and am seeing a guy way sexier than scruffy old Jason. Although, to be fair, he doesn’t look all that scruffy. In fact, he looks better than he ever has. Bastard.

  Prepare for your verbal evisceration, Jason.

  “You’re right,” he interrupts before I can say another word. “It was all me. I was such a dick, and you have no idea how sorry I am.”

  Wait, what? He isn’t supposed to be agreeable. He’s supposed to deny it being his fault, and be a giant dickhead, which frees me up to be a bitch of legendary proportions and slice his rat bastard heart out with my razor sharp wit. And then I’m supposed to stroll off into the sunset with my haughty expression and sexy ass. Passersby will be in awe of my womanly power. Inspirational music optional. Nowhere in this scenario does Jason apologize and act like a human being.

  “What?” I believe “flummoxed” is the feeling I’m experiencing. That, or... no, flummoxed is about it.

  “I just, well, sorry is too small of a word for how bad I feel for doing that to you. It had absolutely nothing to do with you. It was all me.” Jason closes his eyes and jams his hands in his pockets. “You probably don’t want to hear any explanations from me—”

  Wrong.

  “—but I know I owe you the truth.”

  Damned right.

  “Can we talk?” he asks.

  “We’re talking now.” I’m trying not to give an inch; he doesn’t deserve it. But his voice is working its way through my anger. It’s snaking around the corners, trying to peel back an edge and let him back in. He looks so damned sincere. I know I can’t trust him; that I should curse him out, turn and run away as fast as I can.

  But the part of me that died when he left rears up on high alert in front of my tattered dignity. That part of me needs to hear what he has to say. That tiny, shameless, twisted part of me needs to hear how it wasn’t my fault that he left. The gaping wound I’d thought had closed has a real chance to heal when I hear why Jason deserted me.

  It was never my fault he left, but that part of me needs to be bludgeoned with the truth; that it was all on Jason. That there really wasn’t anything I did wrong to drive him away. That I am loveable and not easy to leave. I know I should just walk away; knowing it wasn’t my fault is the important thing, not the specific “whys,” but I find myself unable to.

  The part of me that wonders what Dominic sees in me, the piece that hesitates to trust him because he could do the same thing Jason did to me—that tiny toxic part of me will slowly seep its poison through my mind and heart until I hear what Jason has to say.

  I can’t move on until I hear his explanation.

  “I mean really talk, Elle. Somewhere quiet.” His face stays neutral, but his voice betrays his tension. Mine betrays everything I’ve fought for since he left when I hear myself agree to talk with him.

  “Do you remember where I used to live?”

  I look at him incredulously.

  He shakes his head. “Of course you do. That was a stupid question. Can you meet me there tonight at like, ten o’clock?”

  Can I? Yeah, I guess it’s a small price to pay to get the answers I’ve been craving for months. I nod and he walks away.

  ***

  Jason’s old place is a train and two bus rides away from my house, so I take a cab. Less time to talk myself out of going. The neighbourhood looks frighteningly the same as it used to. I’d almost expected it to be sinister, darker in some intangible way. Any thoughts I’ve had of this quiet street and stuccoed house have been streaked with pain for months, remembering the memories of Jason and me inside. But it’s just a neighbourhood, and his house is just a house. A sigh is just a sigh.

  I pay the driver and step onto the street, unusually crowded with cars. A vague bass line pulses through the air explaining the cars: Someone’s having a house party. The closer I get to Jason’s house, the louder the music gets. Tension gathers in my stomach, and I knock on the door, now certain the party is here. What the hell?

  Skeeter opens the door with a backwards ball cap on and beer in hand. Some things never change. His face lights up when he sees me. “Elle!”

  I smile despite the awful dance music washing over me through the open door. Skeet and I always did get along well.

  “Hey, Skeet! Is Jason here?”

  “Yeah, come in!”

  All I want to do is run away from the music, but I step inside and look around the living room. There are about thirty people dancing, talking, smoking, drinking. What is Jason playing at? He said he wanted to talk and then he springs this on me? It’s not like he hadn’t known this was going to happen. Parties of this size don’t just spring up out of nowhere. Did he do this on purpo
se so we wouldn’t be able to talk?

  “Need a beer?” Skeet closes the door behind me.

  Before I can tell him no thanks, my head jerks up and down into a vigorous nod. Guess my subconscious knows I need it. They say we’re supposed to listen to our bodies, so who am I to argue? He heads to the kitchen, and I kick off my shoes and look around.

  It’s so strange being back in this house when I thought I’d never be here again. It used to feel like a second home to me, but now I’m self-conscious as I walk through the living room and head to the kitchen. It’s ridiculous to think everyone is looking at me, knowing what happened between Jason and me. Judging me. My insecurity is making me paranoid about it, but I keep my head down to avoid making eye contact, hands clenched at my sides as the music assaults my senses.

  I enter the kitchen just as Skeet closes the fridge door. He turns, sees me, and hands the bottle over. The cap bites into my palm as I twist it off and take a sip, rolling the bitter liquid around on my tongue. Skeet smiles and leans against the counter beside me.

  “Been ages, Elle. What have you been up to?”

  “Moved. Other than that, same old. Books come in, books go out. You?” Does he know? Has he known what happened all along, and is only talking to me now, pitying me? No, I can’t think like that.

  “Still at the gym.” He waves his hand. “Fat comes in, muscles go out.”

  I laugh at his hijacking of my joke.

  And that’s when Jason walks into the kitchen. Somehow I manage to keep the smile on my face even as my chest tightens and my tongue turns into a beer flavoured cotton ball. He’s wearing jeans and a striped green and blue long-sleeved t-shirt that plays up his tan and makes his minty green eyes stand out even more.

  “Hey, Jason. Look who I found,” Skeet exclaims.

  “You came!” Jason’s smile lights up his face. He leans in and kisses my cheek, lingering a split second too long. He smells like beer, Irish Spring soap, and familiarity. It’s a scent I haven’t been around in a while, but it presses on parts of my brain, stirring up remnants of desire I thought I’d left crying curled up in a ball on my bedroom floor.