Breathless

by Jessica Warman

  “I’ll have to talk to my parents.”

  “I’ve already spoken with them.” Solinger rocks in his chair. “Katie, don’t you get it? You’ve got a gift, honey. Everything is going to happen for you. All you have to do is keep swimming.”

  part three

  chapter 8

  When I walk into my room on the first day of preseason, Mazzie is sitting on my bed, wearing a tank top and underwear, bouncing a tennis ball off the floor.

  She doesn’t so much as look at me. “It’s you.”

  “Yep.” I put my suitcases down. In the corner of the room, there’s a tennis racket and several bottles of balls. “You’re playing tennis now?”

  “I’ve always played tennis,” she lies. “How was Yale?”

  “Amazing.” And it was. I earned straight As in all of my classes, went swimming every day, and Drew came to see me every weekend. But Mazzie already knows this; she and I have been talking on the phone all summer.

  “I was hoping you’d decide not to come back.” She sighs, lying back in bed, her legs dangling over the side, toes barely grazing the floor.

  I narrow my eyes, grinning. “That’s why you’ve been sleeping in my bed? Because you can’t stand the sight of me?”

  “In case you haven’t noticed,” she says, “the top bunk doesn’t have any sheets on it. That’s yours now.”

  “Mazzie,” I say, sitting down on the bottom bunk beside her, putting my head on her shoulder, “these are my sheets.”

  The big news on campus is that, just a few days earlier, Estella dumped Stetson. Fewer than twenty-four hours later, she was spotted holding hands with Jeremy Chase, who is also a senior.

  Over the summer, Stetson was in a minor car accident that left him with a torn tendon in his right arm. He can still play water polo well enough to stay on varsity, but he isn’t the captain anymore. The new captain is Jeremy Chase.

  And I’m the new girls’ varsity swimming captain.

  “It’s a big job, honey,” Solinger says to me as we’re sitting in his office. He hands me my new swimsuit that says “Captain” below my last name, and winks; he’s always winking at the girls. “It’ll be easy for you, right?”

  “Absolutely,” I say, staring at the swimsuit.

  “I hear you did great this summer.”

  I grin. “Yep.”

  “You still dating Bailey?”

  When I nod, Solinger says, “That’s good. Drew is a little fussy, you know?”

  I sure do.

  “But he’s the whole package: talent, good head on his shoulders, all the smarts he’s ever gonna need . . .” He studies me for a moment, shakes his head a little bit. “You kids never fail to amaze me. You come in here and you know how to get things done.” He glances at his watch, knocks on his desk, and says, “I have ultimate Frisbee in five minutes. Gotta go. But—hey Katie—you should stick with Drew. He’s a good decision for you.” Solinger seems to be struggling with his words. “That’s part of what you’re here to learn—how to make the right kind of decisions in life. Do you know what I’m saying?”

  Life is good. Being captain is demanding—I have to come early and stay late at almost every practice—but since Drew is the captain of the boys’ team, we get to be there together.

  Things with Drew are great too. They’re fine. It’s funny—the more you get to know someone, the more you get to see how different they are from what everybody else thinks of them.

  It’s one of those rare Saturday evenings when there’s nothing to do. Drew is out of town, visiting relatives with his mom. Lindsey has a bad cold and has gone home for the weekend to recuperate. The dorm is practically empty except for me and Mazzie. We’re in our pj’s, lying on the couch in the common room, watching a movie together. It feels like one of the first times I’ve been able to relax all year.

  My eyelids are beginning to flutter, my body going limp as I fall asleep, when Estella barges into the room.

  “Katie. There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

  I glance over at Mazzie. She’s asleep, or at least, her eyes are closed.

  “Shh.” I sit up. “What’s the matter?”

  “Do you have any condoms?” she asks.

  I shake my head. “Sorry.”

  Estella scowls. “At least go look. You’ve got to have one in the back of your sock drawer or something.”

  “Estella . . . why don’t you just go buy some?”

  “Because I don’t want to drive all the way to the store. Come on, Katie, just go look.” She clasps her hands together and gives me her sweetest grin. “Pretty please?”

  I should just say I’m out, or that I’m on the pill. But I don’t think fast enough. “We don’t use condoms,” I say.

  Her hands go to her hips. “Then what do you use?”

  “We don’t use . . . anything.” I lower my gaze. Mazzie is the only other person who knows that Drew and I don’t have sex; I don’t know why I’m telling Estella. I think it’s because I’m just so frustrated by the whole situation. I want confirmation that there’s something wrong with Drew, not me.

  Estella’s mouth drops open. Slowly, her lips curl into a grin. “Do you mean to tell me,” she says, enjoying every word as it leaves her mouth, “that you and Drew haven’t had sex yet?”

  I just stare at her. I don’t say anything.

  “Oh. My. God. Katie, why haven’t you told me this before?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. It’s a little embarrassing.”

  “Well . . . yeah. What’s up with him?” She claps a hand to her mouth. “Oh my God. It’s the religion thing, isn’t it?”

  Again, I don’t answer, which tells her everything she needs to know.

  Estella is excited, rising up and down on her tiptoes in front of the TV. “This is really interesting, Katie. You know, before you got here, Drew dated Amanda Hopwood for, like, a year. I was certain they were doing it. Even Stetson thought so.”

  “Why were you so sure?” I ask.

  “Because she’s Amanda Hopwood. She’s like a revolving door.”

  I give Estella a blank look.

  “You know,” she says, annoyed, “everybody gets a turn.”

  Estella speaks more quickly now, her voice rising as the truth unravels. “Amanda told me she and Drew broke up because she wouldn’t sleep with him. I knew that didn’t make any sense. And I was right. That’s not why they broke up at all, is it? I bet . . .” Her eyes are practically glowing now. She smacks a palm to her forehead in epiphany. “I bet she broke up with him because he wouldn’t sleep with her. And she didn’t want to admit it because . . . well, because even a slut like Amanda’s gotta have some pride.”

  I feel a little sick to my stomach. Estella rushes over to me, eyes still flashing with excitement, and presses both of her hands to my cheeks so hard that it hurts. Her fingernails dig into my skin. “Katie. I want to tell everybody.”

  I shake my head. “Please don’t.”

  “Can I tell Lindsey?”

  I hesitate. But there’s no saying no to Estella. “Okay.”

  “Can I tell Jeremy?”

  “Estella . . .”

  “How the hell am I supposed to keep something like this a secret? Does he want to save himself for marriage?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, God. Katie. They make documentaries about people like him.”

  “Estella, listen to me. Every time you feel tempted to tell somebody, I want you to find me. You can tell me all about how Drew Bailey is still a virgin. And every time you tell me, I’ll pretend to be hearing it for the first time.”

  Estella nods to herself. “That’s a good idea, Katie. Okay, I’ll try it.”

  She gets up to leave, still shaking her head at the bombshell she’s learned. When she reaches the door, she turns to look at me again. “Do you think Mazzie has any condoms?” she whispers.

  I give her a smirk. “What do you think?”

  “Right,” she says. “Well .
. .” She sighs, looking around the room. Her gaze lands on the kitchenette. “Do you think Saran wrap would work?”

  As soon as Estella is gone, Mazzie opens her eyes. “Hi.”

  I don’t say anything. I’m sitting on the sofa, my arms crossed against my chest.

  “What’s the matter?” she asks.

  “You’ve been awake the whole time?”

  She nods.

  “It’s just so frustrating. And now Estella knows . . .”

  Mazzie nods. “It is a little weird, I guess.”

  Her response startles me. Of all people, I’d expect Mazzie to think Drew’s reluctance wasn’t such a big deal.

  I nod to myself. “I know. It’s like . . .”

  “Like a monkey who doesn’t want to eat bananas,” she supplies.

  “Exactly.”

  “So what are you going to do? Break up with him?”

  Oddly enough, the thought hadn’t even occurred to me. Because I do love Drew. He’s kind and easy to be around, and we have a lot of fun together . . . when we’re not being physical. Anytime we start to go beyond making out, there’s an awkwardness that takes over and makes it hard for me to breathe around him.

  I shake my head. “No,” I tell Mazzie. “I don’t want to do that.”

  She nods. “Look at you . . . my virginal roommate.” She laughs out loud. “So pure.”

  “Mazzie?”

  “What?”

  “Go to hell.”

  It’s a Friday afternoon, after swimming practice. I’ve just broken the school record for fastest 400-meter freestyle. The summer has just turned a sharp corner into fall. The air is cool and crisp, the leaves beginning to change colors, and as Drew and I walk back to our dorms together holding hands, I try to describe to him how happy I’m feeling.

  “I think autumn is my favorite season,” I say, taking a deep breath, my cheeks tingling against the cool air. “I don’t know why. Even though everything is dying, it all makes me feel so alive, you know? Do you ever feel like that?”

  Drew nods. “I do. It feels like a gift, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes!”

  “Do you know who gave us this gift?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer. “God,” he says, beaming.

  I’m in such a good mood that I don’t want to argue with him about religion. “That’s nice, Drew.” As we reach my dorm, I stand on my tiptoes to kiss him on the nose. “Thank God for you, Drew Bailey.”

  My mother is in my room, talking to Mazzie like they’re old friends. As I open the door, I can hear her saying, “. . . and of course Katie’s dad is a mess, and our son is quite ill but he’ll be coming home, too—”

  “Mother.” I shut the door, hard. “What are you doing here?”

  Mazzie is leaning against her desk, throwing a tennis ball into the air.

  “Oh, Katie.” I can tell my mom has been crying. “I came to pick you up.”

  I shake my head. “No way. I have a scrimmage in the morning, I have a chem lab—”

  “Katie,” she interrupts.

  My mom wouldn’t drive down here without any notice just for a visit. Something’s definitely wrong—things have been so good lately, it was only a matter of time before something bad happened. I don’t want to hear whatever’s coming, so I just press on, “—that’s due on Monday that I haven’t even started yet, and we’re supposed to go look at homecoming dresses this weekend.”

  “Sweetie, it’s your grandpa,” my mom says.

  Both of my maternal grandparents passed away years ago, so I know she’s talking about the Ghost’s father.

  My mom’s lower lip trembles. She doesn’t say anything else.

  I look at Mazzie, who is still throwing the tennis ball into the air, catching it with alternating hands. She stops for a moment, gives me a grave look, and says, “Dead.”

  The last time I saw my grandpa was months ago, but even so he’d seemed fine. His real name was Edward, but he always insisted that Will and I call him Effie. My whole life, he always had bubble gum for me, called me Kit-Kat, and seemed delighted when Will and I confided our nickname for the Ghost to him.

  When his third wife died a few years ago, Effie moved to Miami. He used to send postcards of himself taken at the beach with his arm around a hot twenty something in a bikini. It was easy to imagine him convincing them to take the picture; he was sweet and ornery and nothing at all like the Ghost. More than once, after a visit with him, Will and I would remark on how impossible it seemed that someone as uptight as the Ghost could have a dad as cool as Effie.

  “We have to leave right away,” my mom says. I just sit there, my head down, feeling the panic as it spreads throughout my body. Mazzie watches both of us with a kind of detached, fascinated pity. “I’m sorry, honey, but you should get your things together. The funeral is tomorrow and your father is very upset and I’d like to get back.”

  “Come with me,” I say, suddenly, to Mazzie.

  She drops the tennis ball. “What? No.”

  “Mom, please, can she come? Mazzie is my best friend.”

  My mom is hesitant. I’ve never brought anybody home with me before. I’ve barely mentioned Mazzie to my parents. “I didn’t even know you were roommates,” she says. “I was just telling Mazzie I always thought your roommate was someone named Madeline.”

  “I told her it was a mix-up,” Mazzie explains to me. “I was just telling her that Madeline never showed up.”

  “Maybe you’d want to bring your boyfriend?” my mom says.

  All I can think about is getting my mother out of my dorm before anyone else sees her. If Drew knew what was happening right now, I know he’d want to come with me. But I have to get out of here before he has a chance to see my mom, or hear about what’s going on—otherwise he might find out about Will, and then everything would be over.

  “Please, Mom,” I say. I give Mazzie a pleading look. I can’t stand the idea of going home without her.

  • • •

  Mazzie and I barely say a word the whole way back to Hills-burg. I know she’s imagining what Will might be like—she’s never even seen a picture of him—and I keep my head against the window, my eyes closed, trying not to think about how the weekend will go.

  Both of my parents are only children. With Effie gone—my mom tells me he had an aneurysm that killed him instantly, as he lay on the beach—it’s only the four of us now: my mom and the Ghost, Will and me. Even though I rarely saw my grandpa, knowing that he’s gone makes me terrified in a way that goes beyond my feelings about Effie. I feel like my family is connected now by a series of quickly disintegrating threads. I feel like it would take almost nothing for the whole thing to fall apart.

  Mazzie and I take our things up to my room. “Where’s Dad?” I ask my mom.

  “He’s at the funeral home. He’ll be home later tonight.” She smiles at Mazzie. “Well, it’s wonderful to meet Katie’s best friend, although the circumstances are pretty unfortunate.”

  “Where’s Will?” I ask.

  “He’s in his room. Probably sleeping.” Her gaze flickers to Mazzie. “He’s very, very upset. You can imagine.”

  I nod.

  “This is incredibly difficult for him. He’s . . . sedated. I know you and Will loved your grandpa very much.” My mom takes a deep breath, opens the fridge, and uncorks a bottle of white wine. “You should let your brother rest, Katie. He needs to rest.”

  “How’s Dad?”

  My mom takes her time pouring a very full glass of wine. She takes a long sip before answering, “You know your father had a very difficult childhood. Your grandpa was not always the way he was when you knew him.”

  We don’t see the Ghost or Will until just before the funeral the next day. Right away it’s obvious that the Ghost is annoyed my mom let me bring Mazzie home with me. She and I are eating a late breakfast in the dining room, sharing a stack of pancakes, when we hear my parents arguing in the library.

  Their voices never rise above heated whispers. �
�Who the hell is this girl? What the hell were you thinking?”

  “She says she’s her best friend. I didn’t want her to go through this alone—”

  “Her whole damn family is here. This is my father’s funeral we’re talking about.” There is a long pause. “We should have just called her. We didn’t need to bring her home for this.”

  “William, I cannot let my own daughter miss—”

  “What?” I can see the Ghost’s expression in my mind: arms crossed, tall condescension, the same attitude of angry contempt that he always takes any time my grandpa comes up. “My father wouldn’t have cared, you know. Maybe Katie thinks so—and maybe you do, too—but that’s only because he practically duped women for a living.”

  “Can you believe this shit?” It’s Will, standing behind us. We’ve been listening so closely to my parents, we didn’t hear him approach.

  Mazzie stares. I can’t blame her. Will looks almost the same as he did the last time I saw him: far too thin, teeth yellow and more crooked than ever. But today he wears a suit and tie, instead of his usual jeans and white undershirt. Thank God, his arms are covered. The suit is at least two sizes too big for him. And Will’s head is shaved, which he hasn’t done in years. With no hair, he looks more gaunt than I remember, his head oddly shaped, a thick black tattoo of a lightning bolt jutting down the middle of his skull, all the way from the top of his forehead down to where his neck meets his shirt.

  He’s obviously on heavy meds. He gazes at Mazzie, rocking back and forth ever so slightly in his shoes, like he’s on a boat.

  “Listen to them in there,” he continues, his voice a low monotone. “The Ghost is glad he’s dead, you know.”

  “Will,” I say, “no he isn’t.” Every few moments, I have a flicker of imagination, when I picture what it would be like if Drew were here with me instead of Mazzie. Just thinking about it makes it hard for me to breathe.

  “Sure he is. Effie was cool. And you know the Ghost, man. He can’t stand anything that ain’t square as a dictionary.” Even though he’s been gazing at her for a while, Will suddenly straightens up, as though he’s noticing Mazzie for the first time. “Katie? Who the hell is this chick?”