The Last Exhale

by Julia Blues

  Time keeps ticking. No time for small talk. I go ahead and tell her about the reservations. I already know she’s not going to want to go, her stiff shoulders tell me so.

  “Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

  I shake my head. “Oh, no. Don’t try that. You know I’ve been trying to talk to you all day to no avail.”

  “You still could’ve said something.” She takes a smooth sip of her wine, displays her level of control.

  Obviously, I’m the only one losing my cool at the moment. “Okay, you want to play that game.” I rub a hand across my forehead, wipe away the beads of sweat that have formed in this cold room. “Plus, I wanted to surprise you. But you’re too detached—Hell, I don’t know what you’re detached from. Me? This marriage? Life? I just don’t know anymore.”

  She drinks the rest of her wine. “I’m going to bed.”

  I grab her by the arm when she passes me. “See, this is what I’m talking about. We’re falling apart here and you’re going to bed?”

  Rene slides her arm from my grasp, moves a few feet away.

  I raise my hands in apology. “Didn’t mean to do that.” I’ve got to get myself together. Mentally and physically, I’ve got to get control.

  “What do you want from me?” Her arms folded.

  Wait, was that a hint of emotion in her voice? Maybe all hope is not lost. Maybe she can still feel my love for her.

  “I want my wife.” I move close to her, pull her close to me. Feel her slowly thawing in my embrace. Doesn’t last longer than a second before she turns back into ice.

  She pulls away, heads back upstairs.

  That’s it. I’ve had enough. Every time I think she’s relenting, she shuts me right back out. I grab my keys off the countertop. “Happy Anniversary,” I yell and slam the door behind me.

  4

  BRANDON

  The chime of a soon-to-be empty gas tank transports me back to the present. I look for the next gas exit. When I grab the receipt, it tells me I’m in Montgomery, AL. Been driving for nearly three hours with Anthony Hamilton’s The Point of It All CD on repeat. My thoughts were so caught up in what my marriage has become I hadn’t realized I was in another state. I put the car in drive and get back on I-85 headed back north.

  Just as the night prepares to clock off and switch shifts with the dawn of a new day, my truck pulls into the garage next to Rene’s car.

  Home.

  The last place I want to be, but it’s where I lay my head at night.

  I’m dazed. Wondering what is the point of it all. This is not the way I planned to spend nine years of marital bliss. Maybe because it hasn’t been that blissful. I take that back. The first six were great. Rene and I shared so much love.

  We lived.

  We loved.

  We were one.

  I knew what she was thinking before her thoughts could even form. She always knew what I wanted before I even knew. We were in harmony, in sync. Every day felt like the first day. We were amazed with each other, discovering parts of one another we had never discovered. Every day was like that.

  Then, one day it all changed.

  I remember the day like it was last night. We had just finished making love. Her head was on my chest and she was twirling the only five pieces of chest hair I had around her fingers. Her breathing was different. It was out of sync with mine for the first time. I noticed it almost immediately. She inhaled short and hesitant, exhaled hard and long, did that like she was on the verge of her last exhale.

  “You okay?” I asked while rubbing her short-cropped hair.

  “Just thinking.”

  “About?”

  “Life. Love.”

  She talked freely. Didn’t think about it. Just talked. Her breathing was still different, second-guessing itself.

  “Okay, what about it?” I kept rubbing my fingers through her hair.

  She continued playing in my chest hairs. “Do you love me?”

  “Of course I do.” My lips touched her forehead. “Why would you ask me something like that?”

  “Just thinking.”

  Since she put it out there, I had to ask, “Do you love me?”

  Her fingers released my hair. She lay there motionless. Only her lips moved. She said, “Nothing ever lasts. No matter what you do or say, nothing ever lasts.”

  The love of my life was starting to scare me. “Talk to me, babe. What’s going on? Where is all of this coming from?”

  Her head moved up off my chest, legs untangled from mine. She got out of the bed and went into the bathroom. Closed the door behind her.

  I wanted to go after her, get to the bottom of her sudden despondence. I stayed in the bed, figured she needed a few minutes to herself to get her thoughts together. She would be out shortly and we would talk then.

  A few minutes turned into twenty.

  Twenty turned into an hour.

  Moist sheets from our lovemaking were frozen underneath me. A chill ran through my body. I got up to close the window, knocked on the bathroom door. “Rene?”

  Nothing.

  I knocked again. “Rene,” my voice louder. “You okay in there?”

  Still nothing.

  As I put my hand up to the knob to make sure it wasn’t locked, the door flew open. She reached up and pulled my face to hers. Did it so fast I didn’t have the chance to search her eyes for answers. Her lips touched mine with such a force it demanded me to kiss her back. I felt warm tears roll down my skin. I wanted to pull her away, separate my lips from hers and get to the bottom of what was bothering her. Her hunger for assurance in that moment kept me from pressing the matter.

  We kissed.

  She moaned.

  She cried.

  Hasn’t been the same since.

  • • •

  The house is quiet when I make it inside.

  Upstairs in our room, my wife sleeps as though our marriage isn’t in trouble. She doesn’t move when I walk in and sit down on the bed next to her. Doesn’t flinch, not one bit.

  My head falls into cupped hands. I just don’t get it. I’m a good husband. Never cheated; never had the desire to. Never hit her, pushed her, disrespected her; never had a reason to. I’ve been here whenever she needed me, even when she didn’t. None of this makes sense. My wife has lost sight of me and I don’t know how to get it back.

  I turn and observe her. Eyes closed effortlessly like all she had to do was lay her head down for sleep to pull her in the way an ocean’s current pulls in an inexperienced swimmer. Her face denies worrying of my whereabouts.

  I get up, grab my pillow off the bed. No point in sleeping in an empty bed even though there’s another warm body lying there. Slowly close the door on my way out, watching her until I can barely see what’s left of the moon’s glow painting her skin a luminous shade of blue.

  Her leg moves.

  The door pushes open slightly.

  My eyes peer back in on her, waiting for more movement. When hope fails me, the door closes.

  If I weren’t in my right mind, I’d swear I heard her exhale.

  5

  SYDNEY

  I’ve got on my little black dress and red belt to indent my waistline. I step into leopard-print stilettos. Spritz just enough peppered-violets in all the right places to make sure my scent is memorable. Take out the pins in my hair, fluff sandy-brown curls to perfection. As I grab my keys, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Despite the few pounds recently added to the scale, I must say, I’m looking good, and actually feeling even better. Feel almost like a single woman on the prowl. The sparkle on my left hand reminds me that I’m not. I blow my reflection a matte-red kiss anyway.

  I’m meeting my girls at a lounge not too far from the house. It’s Katrina’s birthday. She’s single and ready to mingle. Rachel’s happily married and not ashamed to let the world know it. I’m stuck somewhere in between.

  Eric pulled an extra shift for the night, so I thought it was the perfect opportunity t
o leave the kids with their grandmother. EJ and Kennedy will be just what she needs to keep loneliness from her pillow, while getting a break from all of them will hopefully keep regret from mine.

  Surprisingly, there are quite a few people in the lounge. Unlike in my early years when no one came out until close to midnight. For it to be a few minutes to ten, I’m very pleased. These are the hours grown folks party, those of us with kids and real responsibilities.

  Katrina sashays in shortly after ten. I wave her over to the bar where I’ve been standing long enough for me to no longer feel my toes.

  “I was beginning to think I was getting stood up tonight,” I say after we part from a hug.

  “Forgot you’re on borrowed time.” She chuckles, but quickly stops when she sees the straight look on my face. “Rachel here yet?”

  I shake my head. “Thought you two were riding together.”

  “We were, but she called thirty minutes ago to tell me she’d just meet me here. Said something about the zipper in her dress getting stuck and Michael helping her with it.”

  I look at Katrina and she looks at me. We burst into naughty giggles. “She’s not coming,” we agree in unison.

  “If I play my cards right, I may be getting a little action tonight myself.” She clinks her glass with mine. “Best way to celebrate this celebration.”

  A twinge of jealousy clogs my throat. I flush it down with pineapple-flavored tequila. I’m slightly jealous of both of my friends. One has the freedom to come and go as she pleases and the other doesn’t want to come and go because she has a man she’s madly in love with at home. I’d never let them know it, though.

  I survey the room. Ask Katrina, “Anyone catch your eye yet?”

  She shakes her head. “But I definitely see some eyes on you.”

  Two men sitting a few tables behind the bar raise their glasses in our direction. One of the men winks my way. I blush, but make sure I lift my glass with my left hand. Gold and platinum flash from their left hands. I quickly turn to Katrina. “Girl, they’re married.”

  “A little flirting never hurt a soul,” she says.

  “I’m sure that’s what someone was telling the woman who stole your husband.”

  My friend’s eyes glaze over with hatred. The space between us grows hot. Feels like I’m standing face to face with the younger, fire-starting Drew Barrymore.

  I grab her hand. “You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

  She waves the bartender over, orders a shot of something clear. Downs it before he can sit it on the counter. “A girl only turns twenty-five once in her life. I’m not going to let you ruin my celebration.” Then saunters off in the direction of salivating men.

  Katrina hasn’t seen her twenties in a decade. Every year, she celebrates the same age because she said that was the best year of her life. It was the year before she got pregnant and three years before her baby’s father finally put a ring on her finger. Not a year into their marriage, she caught him in bed with their neighbor.

  If twenty-five was the best year of her life, twenty-eight would have to be the age we’d celebrate for me. I met Eric two weeks before my twenty-ninth birthday. The rest is a blur.

  The two married guys take their courage up a notch and ask us if we want to dance. Katrina tells Mr. Goldfinger, “Thought you’d never ask.”

  Mr. Platinum stands and waits for either a nod or a head shake from me. I toss back the rest of my drink. “What the hell,” I say and take his extended hand.

  • • •

  My cell phone rings in my purse. “It’s a great day to purchase a new home with Evans Realty. This is Sydney Holmes.”

  “You sound so different when you’re in professional mode.”

  “Rachel?”

  “Since the day I was born.”

  “Why are you calling my work number?”

  “Because you’re not answering your main phone.”

  I dig through my purse and see I have three missed calls and an unread text on my personal cell. It’s on silent mode. I tell Rachel to hold on while I check out at the register of the sporting goods store I’m in. Two new pairs of running shoes, a few packs of sports beans, sports bra and a water bottle with a Velcro snap to put on my running belt. It’s time for me to get the extra fluff off me I’ve packed on in moments of discontentment. Not that I’m an emotional-eater or anything.

  “Sydney, you there?”

  “I’m here.” I put the items in the trunk. “What’s so important that has you calling like I won the Mega Millions?”

  “If that were the case, I wouldn’t be trying to reach you by phone. I’d be camped out on your doorstep.”

  “Tell me about it,” I say and start the car so I can feel the air. The rising temperature tells us spring went on vacation and skipped straight from winter to summer.

  She wastes no time digging into my business. “So, I heard you ladies had a blast the other night without me, you especially.”

  “I was just trying to make sure Katrina enjoyed her birthday. As much as she tries to act like she’s not, I can tell she’s lonely since the divorce.”

  “That was her decision. I mean, she knew he was cheating before they got married and married him anyway.”

  “Yeah, that’s true.” I married Eric knowing what I was getting into. I know I can’t be the only woman who’s done so. My friend is proof of that. But still, to marry a known cheater and be okay with it is a different situation. “Now that you mention it, I can’t see her divorcing him for that reason. Do you think something else happened that we don’t know about?”

  “Anything’s possible, but she might not be the only person divorced if you keep dancing with random men like you’re trying to make money to pay your mortgage.”

  I sigh. “It was a dance, Rachel. Why are you making it such a big deal?”

  “I’m not. The guy you were dancing with is. He said you have some loose hips.”

  “How would—Did Katrina tell you that?” I parted ways with my friend after a few dances and drinks. I had a family to get home to. I was on borrowed time as she said. No telling what she did or better yet, who she did once I left. As liberated as she’s been between the legs as of late, she might’ve taken both guys home to celebrate her birthday in style.

  “I haven’t talked to Kat.” She lets that tidbit of information settle in before adding, “The guy you were dancing with is actually the supervisor over the fugitive unit Michael and Eric are in. You did know that, right?”

  “How was I supposed to know that?” The one night I get out of the house and let my hair down, the whole world finds out. Such is my luck.

  “Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t, seeing as you never come to any of their get-togethers. We’ve played cards at his house a few times and he’s been at the past two cookouts we’ve had over here. Now that I think about it, the last time you’ve been to any functions was at your house for EJ’s first birthday. What’s up with that?”

  I pull out of the parking lot and get stuck waiting on a slow-moving train to pass. The temptation to roll down the window and toss my phone at the train to end this conversation grows the more Rachel grills me. “Enough about me. Why weren’t you out celebrating with us?”

  The smile in her voice can be heard on the moon. “Michael came home in one of those moods. Started the second he walked through the door, pinching me on the butt and nibbling on my ear. When I asked him to help me zip up my dress, he zipped it down instead. My dress ended up on the floor and we fell right on top of it.”

  “Ohhhh, spare me the details.”

  “You asked.” She chuckles. “I know you two didn’t miss me at all.”

  I can picture her sitting in a chair, head held back, mouth wide open, having a good laugh all by herself. “Still would’ve been nice to have you there.”

  “Let’s plan something else soon.”

  The train finally passes and the light turns green. “Well, I’m around the corner from the office. Got a client
coming in in about twenty minutes. Let me know when you ladies want to get together.”

  “Sure will. And I’ll be sure not to plan it someplace where you won’t be dry humping our husbands’ boss.”

  “No, it will be a random guy next time,” I say and quickly end the call.

  • • •

  Eric doesn’t make a big deal of the dance when he gets in from work.

  “Rachel made it seem like I was some stripper in a thong and pasties on my nipples.”

  “You know she likes to exaggerate. Don’t take it personal, babe. It’s not a big deal.”

  I rinse the cabbage and add it to the pan with chopped bell peppers and onions and olive oil. Add seasoning, give it a good stir before putting the lid on top to seal in the steam.

  Eric says, “Next time you’re feeling frisky, though, save it for me,” then gives me a kiss.

  I salute my husband. “Yes, sir.”

  He stops at the table where Kennedy is doing her homework and EJ is getting on her nerves. I’ll be so glad when he starts kindergarten in the fall.

  “Daddy, I’m glad you’re home so he can bother you and leave me alone,” Kennedy says.

  “Be nice to your brother,” he tells her.

  “Can I hold your gun, Daddy?” Eric Jr. asks.

  My husband looks back in the kitchen at me.

  “That’s your son,” I say.

  Eric Sr. puts a pencil in his hand. “Why don’t you worry about holding this for now.”

  “Aw, Dad.”

  “Aw, nothing. Guns aren’t for play, and they definitely aren’t for little boys.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I yell from the kitchen, “Get out of your uniform. Dinner will be ready in a few.”

  Kennedy brings a paper to me with clocks on it and the times she scribbled underneath. “I finished it.”

  I set the paper on the counter while I stir up the cabbage, unplug the rice cooker.

  “Mommy, can I have a cookie?” she asks.

  I hand the paper back to her instead. “One of these is wrong. Figure it out, then you can have a cookie.”

  EJ walks into the kitchen asking for a cookie next.