Breathing

by Cheryl Renee Herbsman

  As the nurses are fixing to take me upstairs, Mama offers to call a cab for Jackson. He says he’d ruther stay awhile. But Mama gets stern with him.

  “Young man, you have sure impressed me tonight, wanting to be here with Savannah through this, but it’s time you go on home. Your kin are probably wondering about you, and they ain’t gonn’ be too chipper ’bout you spending the night with the likes of us. It’s late. We’re all tired. I suggest you make tracks.” And I can hear in her voice how worn she is.

  “Ms. Brown, I ain’t trying to be rude or nothing. I can call my aunt and uncle and tell ’em where I’m at. But they don’t decide who I spend my time with. She still don’t look right. If it’s all the same to you, I’d ruther stay awhile and see how she does.”

  Shew! Ain’t he sweet? We hardly even known each other but a week or two, and here he goes making all this fuss! Mama must think we’ve been hiding this for months.

  “Well it ain’t all the same to me,” she snaps. But I grab her hand and look at her with eyes that say Please, Mama! And she softens. The nurse starts to push my wheelchair out to the elevator and Mama doesn’t object when Jackson follows. “How old are you anyhow?” she asks him once the elevator doors close.

  “Eighteen, ma’am,” he replies. I can’t help but flinch as I wonder how she’s going to react to that one.

  She turns to face him. “Do you know how old she is?” she asks like I’m not even there.

  “Yes, ma’am. She’s fifteen going on fifteen and a half,” he says with a smile.

  Mama just shakes her head.

  They get me all tucked into bed. Mama scribbles in her notebook and Jackson sits in a chair beside me, leaning over me like he’s scared I’m going to die.

  I lift the nebulizer mask off my face. “You don’t gotta stay,” I whisper, not wanting Mama to hear. “I’ll be okay.”

  He shakes his head and takes my hand. “You want me to go?” he whispers back.

  Now I’m shaking my head. I just don’t want him to feel obliged is all. And much as I’d like to hang out and talk with him, I feel myself getting so sleepy I can’t keep my eyes open, and I know I’m drifting off.

  I wake sometime later. The lights are dim and the TV’s on low. Mama and Jackson are sitting in chairs on opposite sides of the bed, staring up at the screen, talking at each other without looking.

  “Alls I’m saying is you best not break her heart.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  Ppphhh, Mama blows through her lips. “She told you about her asthma before?”

  “She said it don’t happen too often.”

  “That’s a bald-face lie. Trying not to run you off, I reckon.”

  And I’m betting Jackson is sitting there thinking about the number of times he’s seen me and how many of them involved a sign of this damn sickness. I’m feeling mighty embarrassed. But I’m hoping Jackson ain’t the type to clear out when things get rough.

  “Time is it?” I ask, trying to sit up, and well, change the subject.

  “Eleven,” Mama says. “How you feeling?”

  “Better.” Ain’t nobody ever stayed over in the hospital with me and Mama before, not even Dog.

  She looks back and forth between us and says, “I’ma go get a cup of coffee. Y’all want anything?”

  “I’m starved. We didn’t get much of a chance to eat at the picnic,” I say.

  “I’ll see what I can scrounge up.” And then, she actually leaves us alone.

  I smile at Jackson, wondering if I look like death warmed over. “So much for playing it cool.”

  He laughs and hangs his head.

  “She giving you a hard time?”

  “Just watching out for her baby girl. Nut’n wrong with that. You okay?”

  “Yeah. That was real nice of you to stay. Mama must think we been seeing each other a long time.”

  “I kinda sorta told her ’bout the times we seen each other. I hope you don’t mind. I didn’t exactly have a choice. Once you went out, she was ready to send me packing if I didn’t tell all.”

  “Figures,” I say, wondering how much exactly he said, not that there’s anything to hide. It’s just there’s some stuff you want to keep private. “Think she’ll lock me up the rest of the summer?”

  He smiles. “I reckon so. I’ll just have to break you out every now and again so’s you don’t wither away.”

  “Guess I ruined the picnic, huh?” I imagine all them folks talking about us after we left and likely making a fuss about me and Jackson.

  “Ruined it? I believe you saved it from being a total washout.

  Didn’t you say you wanted to give ’em sump’n to talk about?” he teases.

  “Very funny,” I say. “What must they think?”

  “Who cares,” he says, all somber.

  “You don’t?” I ask.

  “Not a lick,” he says.

  “And you don’t care about my age?”

  He looks as serious as a heart attack and he says, “Listen here, girl, alls I know is I came out here this summer feeling like my life was done finished. My daddy up and died without warning. My mama’s a mess. She’s carting me out here like she don’t wanna have to deal with looking at the spittin’ image of her dead husband all day. And I got to contend with my rich, snobby kin treatin’ me like crap. And then one day I see this cute girl with sump’n special goin’ on behind her eyes. In a matter a days, she goes and saves my life, in more ways’n one, and you want to know do I care that she’s two and a half years younger’n me? Would it matter if you was twenty and I was twenty-three?”

  It’s a damn good thing they’re pumping those steroids into my veins or you can be sure I’d be in the depths of another attack. It’s just what I meant when I said he was real. I don’t believe I ever heard anybody talk like that before. And holy hell, Mama is standing in the doorway hearing it all, too, a tray full of food in her hands.

  I can see Jackson’s embarrassed, wishing he’d kept his mouth shut. And all I want to do is take that away for him.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” I say. “I’m sorry it took your daddy dying to bring you out this way, but I’m so happy you came.” Mama steps back out and closes the door. I lean towards him and we kiss, and it’s just as sweet as it was under the tree at the picnic. And Lordy I forgot where we’re at! The heart monitor starts to beeping, and Mama and the nurses come rushing in lickety-split. We’re caught red-handed. Jackson starts to blushing, and I’m turning near about purple. But then Mama busts out laughing, and I think I ain’t never seen a better day, happy as a clam at high tide.

  7

  Rules for Savannah and Jackson’s Courting [Mama actually wrote this!]

  1. Y’all are not to be alone in the house together under any circumstances. This goes for the Channings’ house, too.

  2. When at either house, the bedroom door is to remain open at all times.

  3. The back of the Channing boys’ truck is off-limits—period!

  4. Y’all are not to be out at the beach after dark.

  5. Savannah’s curfew is 10 o’clock during the week and 11 o’clock on weekends. [Like it would even matter whether it’s the week or the weekend during summer vacation!]

  6. Savannah may spend time with Jackson only after her chores are done. [I knew that one was coming.]

  7. Finally, y’all best mind your manners. I’ve got eyes watching for me just about everywhere. Don’t cross me.

  Now if that ain’t the most humiliating manifesto you’ve ever seen, I don’t know what is. Can you imagine? Mama sat us down before we even left the hospital to go over this little document with her. I honest-to-God thought I might die of embarrassment! Jackson blushed something fierce but didn’t say a word against it. It must be awful. Here he is eighteen years old and more or less free to do as he pleases, and now he’s saddled with a list of rules as long as his arm. I’m surprised he didn’t up and hightail it out of there.

  Just as Mama was finishing up
her little tirade, the bald-headed doctor came in to tell me about the new medicine I’m supposed to start taking every day. I kept trying to tell him that the asthma doesn’t come every day. But he wouldn’t listen. He said since I ain’t managing it with my inhaler, I’ve got to try this. As if it’s my fault. As if it ain’t the damn asthma that’s managing me.

  I’ll say one thing, that attack sure done brung everything out in the open. Now Mama, the preacher, all them church folk, and God himself know all about me and Jackson. Somehow, it turned us into an official couple. We just skipped right on past the rest of the getting-together phase of things. Not like with this one guy I had a crush on last year. It took about a century for him to notice me and another decade for us to get together. Then it was only a matter of days before he went and broke my heart, just moved on to the next girl. I reckon Mama’s aiming to protect me with all those rules. I sure was a mess after I got dumped. But damn, does she know how to complicate things.

  For example, I don’t know if you ever tried it, but a hammock ain’t no place for a romantic encounter. Here me and Jackson are just a couple of days after I got out of the hospital, laying in the hammock, with the lightning bugs flashing their tails at us, the moon shining bright, stars starting to peek out from their hiding places. Sounds near about perfect, don’t it? I’m laying with my head on Jackson’s chest, just listening to the sure, steady beat of his heart. He tips my face up to his and we kiss and, damn, it’s sweet. But when he tries to turn towards me and the hammock starts to swinging and his feet get caught in the rope, it’s all I can do to keep us from tipping.

  According to rule number one, we can’t be in the house alone together, and Mama’s still at work. But the mosquitoes are biting and so are the chiggers. The humidity is so high I feel like somebody done left the hot shower on all night long. Still, there ain’t nothing better on this earth than kissing Jackson Channing. And just as he starts running his hand over my shirt, I hear Mama’s car drive up. On the one hand it sucks real bad, ’cause now we can’t be alone, but on the other, at least we can go inside and escape the bugs and the heat.

  “Vannah, you here?” she calls.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I reply, as we come out of the shadows towards the house.

  “Y’all want to come in and watch a movie?” she asks.

  My mouth is watering for more of what we’ve been doing, but what choice have we got?

  “I reckon,” I tell her as we head inside.

  “Dog get off to Dave’s okay?” she asks.

  “Gina came and got him,” I answer.

  “Y’all have a nice evening?” she asks, eyeballing Jackson.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he replies in a croaky voice, squirming.

  When she heads off to the bathroom, I put a movie in and cuddle up beside Jackson on the couch, hoping she might go spend some time in her room. But she’s back, making herself comfortable right beside us.

  “What movie did y’all choose?” she asks, like we’re having a little get-together with her.

  “Star Wars,” I say, trying to hold my grin. I know she hates those movies, and Jackson, like all guys, will probably love them. Personally, I could take them or leave them. But I know Mama won’t have too much patience for this one.

  Out of the corner of my vision, I can see her looking at Jackson. “How’s your mama doing?” she asks.

  Durn, that woman ain’t got no sense! He doesn’t want to be talking about his grieving mama!

  “Fine, I reckon,” Jackson replies.

  “And your brothers?” she asks.

  Jackson shifts uncomfortably.

  “Mama,” I say, “did you not invite us in here to watch a movie?”

  “All right! Just trying to make conversation.”

  I glare at her and she smiles, picks up People magazine, and starts flipping through it. “You watch the stories today?” she asks me.

  “Like I have time? You know I got a list of chores could keep a body busy till dark if I let ’em. You think I’ma waste my time on a bunch of soap operas?”

  She shakes her head. “I never get a chance to watch my stories, just wondering what all was happening.”

  I put my finger to my lips, silently telling her to shut up so Jackson can watch in peace. I love my mama, but damn, can she be a nuisance when she wants to be. She goes back to flipping through her magazine.

  Inch by inch, Jackson moves his hand, so it’s on my back against my skin.

  “Y’all want something to eat?” Mama asks, jumping up.

  I sigh, wishing she’d just go on to bed. I’m about to yell no, when Jackson looks at me all desperate. “I could eat,” he says. Boys are always hungry.

  Mama steps into the kitchen and starts banging things around.

  “You want me to fix you a sandwich?” I offer. Then I change my mind and whisper, “Let’s go into town and get a burger and a shake.” ’Cause suddenly I feel an intense need to get out from under Mama’s thumb.

  “How we gonn’ get there?” he asks. He’s got his driver’s license, but no car. I ain’t got neither.

  “We can ride bikes,” I suggest. “You can borrow Dog’s.”

  “What about the movie?” he asks.

  I just look at him.

  “Okay.” He smiles. “Let’s go.”

  I call to Mama. “We’re gonn’ go get some burgers and stuff out at Eddie’s.” That’s the main diner in town.

  Mama looks at the clock. “You only got about an hour till curfew,” she warns, looking hurt that we’re leaving. I shrug. “Don’t be late!” she hollers as we head out.

  We sit across the table from each other, staring into each other’s eyes. This is way better than some old space movie. We’ve got two straws in our strawberry shake, just like in a picture.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask Jackson, noting the down-turned corners of his mouth.

  “Nut’n.” He half smiles.

  “Come on, don’t lie,” I say, hoping he hasn’t grown tired of me already.

  “My ma’s been calling.”

  “What about?” I ask.

  “I reckon things are hard for her. Carter and Tyler keep getting into trouble, and my dad ain’t there to set ’em straight.” He sighs. “First she don’t want me around ’cause I remind her too much of him. Now she wants my help in his place.”

  Lois brings us our food. Her hair, which is very big, is forever changing colors. Today it’s ruby red. “Here y’all are,” she says. “Enjoy.”

  “I like the color,” I say, pointing at her hair.

  “Why thank you, sugar,” she replies, patting it gently. “Sweet of you to notice.”

  I pour a pile of ketchup on my plate and salt it up real good. Then I dip my fries in one at a time.

  Jackson chuckles. “Most people put the salt on the fries.”

  “Well I ain’t most people,” I say.

  “That’s for sure true,” he replies, but I can tell by his smile he means it kindly. He eats some of his burger, then looks at the Elvis clock ticking on the wall. “Things was easier before.”

  “Before your dad passed, you mean?” I ask.

  “Yeah, that. But also before . . . you know, all them rules and whatnot.”

  “You mean before Mama’s manifesto? I know. I told you we shouldn’t let her know about us.”

  He shrugs, looking forlorn.

  “Tomorrow’s Saturday. I get a break from chores,” I say. “We could spend the day at the beach.”

  “That sounds right about perfect,” he replies.

  “What your cousins gonn’ be up to?” I ask, wondering if he wouldn’t ruther be off running around with them.

  “Usual dumbass crap,” he replies.

  Nope, I reckon he wouldn’t, I think with a smile, glad they haven’t pulled him into their bullying richy-rich gang.

  He lights up. “Hey, come surfing with me tomorra.”

  “I don’t know how,” I say, though the idea seems exciting.

  “I�
��ll take you on my board,” he says. “I’ll teach you.” Mama’d have a fit if she knew. But my asthma’s been good since I started the new medicine.

  “I’d love to,” I say.

  “Meet me soon as you get up,” he says. “We’ll get an early start.

  Meantime, we best get you home. You got fifteen minutes.” He leaves some money on the table, then holds the door open for me on the way out. As we ride, he looks over through the dark every couple of minutes just to smile at me.

  We crunch into the gravel driveway at exactly eleven o’clock on the nose and set the bikes back in the carport. Jackson leans up against me and kisses me real deep. My insides turn to jelly. But then the outside light flips on.

  “Curfew,” Mama calls, sounding none too happy.

  I hug Jackson tight and wave good night. Then I walk on in right past Mama without even saying a word. My mind is already floating on that surfboard somewhere out in the sea.

  I get up at first light Saturday and tiptoe around, careful not to wake Mama. I want to be good and gone by the time she rises. I’d ruther wait on Jackson down there than risk her holding me up. I make sandwiches and put them in my backpack along with some green grapes, potato chips, and cold lemonade. After taking my medicine, I pack my inhaler and slip on outside in my hot pink two-piece swimsuit. The pavement is already steaming, which doesn’t bode well for the heat this afternoon. But leastways we’ll be out on the water. I’m so excited, I forget the sunscreen and towels. I creep back inside, careful not to slam the screen, and get that stuff quick as I can.

  I see him down by the water waxing his board. Damn, he looks fine, his chest muscles bulging and the sun glinting in his wet hair. I lock up my bike and run down to him.

  “’Bout time you got here,” he chides.

  “It ain’t but seven thirty!” I reply. “When did you come?”

  “Crack o’ dawn.” He stares at me like I’m his dinner, and you remember what I said about boys being hungry. It’s like in them cartoons when the cat is looking at the bird and suddenly it appears to be a roast chicken. “Couldn’t sleep.”