Breathe

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Breathe Page 8

by Tracey E. Chambers


  “Okay, let’s brave the taco plate. If you are still hungry, I bet they will let you buy another one.”

  I put my hand on her back, guiding her to the line. She trembled slightly but didn’t flinch away. Before I could pay for both of our lunches, she gave her name to the cashier. She was on the free lunch list. She picked up her tray without a backwards glance, and I followed her to the end of a long empty table by the door. I couldn’t decide if I should sit next to her or across from her. I settled for across. It would give her some space and give me an excuse to look at her. I let her take a couple of bites of taco before I spoke.

  “So what’s the plan for after class today? You want to head to the beach?”

  She put her taco down and took a sip of her chocolate milk before answering me.

  “You know, you don’t have to entertain me every day.”

  “I WANT to be with you, as much as you can put up with me. If it gets to be too much for you, you say the word and I will back off. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. My company is not mandatory.”

  I tried to act nonchalant. The last thing she needed was pressure from me. I definitely did not want her spending any more time in her house than was absolutely necessary, but if she needed some space from me, I was willing to give it to her. Even if it killed me.

  She tilted her head at me skeptically.

  “Don’t you have anything else you’d rather do than spend every afternoon with me? I’m not that interesting.”

  “If I had my way, I’d spend every second of every day with you. What is it going to take to get you to believe that?”

  She met my questioning gaze and whispered honestly, “I don’t know.”

  “Okay then. Let’s get back to an easier question. What do you want to do after school?”

  She looked down at her food. At first, I wasn’t sure she was going to answer me. It was a full minute before she replied.

  “I still have a ton of make-up work to do from the week I missed that I need to put a dent in. Does an afternoon in the library sound exciting enough for you?”

  “It sounds amazing. Why is it so hard for you to believe that I want to be where you are?”

  She seemed a little exasperated that I wasn’t willing to let this topic go.

  “I just don’t see the fascination. You’re new in town, so I guess you don’t realize I’m the local loner freak. Let’s be honest, you could be with any girl in this school you want. I can’t figure out why you’d waste your time on me.”

  “I like who you are, and I’m happier when I’m with you.”

  I reached across the table to grab her hand off the tray she was nervously toying with. I realized nothing I could say was going to get past the skewed view she had of herself. Her step father’s lies were easier for her to believe.

  “Maybe I have a thing for loners. Maybe I have a thing for girls with gorgeous green eyes. Whatever it is, I want you.”

  The seconds ticked by and we sat there, trying to silently convey words we were hesitant to give a voice to. The bell rang and she picked up her tray.

  “See you in the library after school,” she called.

  “I’ll be there,” I promised.

  She didn’t turn around but nodded her head as she made her way to the freshman hall. Resisting the urge to follow her to class like a puppy wasn’t easy. I managed to turn and walk in the opposite direction from her. Maybe addiction wasn’t a strong enough word.

  Those first few weeks, our lives fell into a pattern. I would pick her up for school every morning. We’d eat lunch together. Sometimes Wyatt and Alex would sit with us. At first she ate her lunch silently, listening to our conversation but not adding to it. Wyatt basically ignored her, but Alex would nod his head in her direction, silently acknowledging her when he sat down. Gradually, she would throw in a comment or two, but generally she was content just to listen. After school we would head to the library or my house to finish homework. The weekends, we spent at my house if my dad was away. We usually ended up at the beach on Sundays after church. I always kept her with me as long as possible. I would walk her in the door at ten on the dot every night and force myself to leave her there.

  Occasionally, Beth would fall asleep at my house while we were watching TV or in the car on the way to the beach. Within just a few minutes of falling asleep, she would thrash, scream, and cry, sobbing unintelligible words that broke my heart. When I would ask her what her nightmares were about, she refused to answer me or claimed to have forgotten. All I had to do was look into her eyes to see the depth of pain there. I prayed for strength for when she was ready to tell me about it.

  My dad was usually gone on his mysterious ‘business trips’ so I did not have to explain her for a while. One night we were eating dinner when he surprised us by waltzing through the front door. He did a double take when he saw her sitting beside me on the couch eating pizza.

  “Well, hello.” He stammered.

  I had never brought a girl home before, partially because I knew he didn’t like the idea of me dating someone seriously. I’d never met a girl before that I wanted to be serious about, so it had never been an issue. Bethany stiffened beside me at the sound of my dad’s voice. I gave her arm a reassuring squeeze.

  “Dad, this is my friend Bethany.”

  She plastered on her mask and nodded her head towards him.

  “Nice to meet you.”

  I wasn’t sure if my dad could hear her or not. She was on autopilot and there was not much I could do with my dad there to make it easier for her. I tried to deflect his attention from her.

  “There’s some pizza on the table if you’re hungry.” I offered.

  “Thanks son. I am STARVING! I’m going to head up to my room. I’m exhausted. Nice to meet you Bethany.”

  As he made his way toward the kitchen, I felt Beth relax a little. I pulled her a little closer to me, hoping to reassure her.

  “Baby, it’s okay. You knew I had a dad right?”

  I tried to tease her, but she was still very wary so I tried again.

  “Look at me.” Slowly she turned her glassy stare my way. “I would never, ever bring you around someone I did not trust. My dad has never raised his voice to me, much less his hand. He will not hurt you.”

  “Won’t he be mad that I am here? He seemed surprised to see me.” She asked worriedly.

  “Maybe he was a little. He’s been gone for a few weeks, and I haven’t really had a chance to tell him about you. He’s fine with me having friends over. If he had a problem with you being here, he would have let both of us know immediately. Everything is fine.”

  The stricken expression on her face dissipated but was replaced with a look of worry.

  “I should leave so you can spend some time with your dad.”

  The uncertainty in her voice tore at my heart. She pushed off the couch, getting ready to leave.

  “Please don’t ever feel that way. I want you with me. My dad is cool, and I will figure out how to explain it to him.”

  I kept my gaze steady so she would know I was serious before I spoke my next words.

  “I am here for you for as long as you want me. Always.”

  I wasn’t sure, but I thought I might have seen tears in her eyes before she blinked them away. She stood up snatched her plate off the coffee table, and stormed towards the kitchen.

  After she put her plate in the sink, she was startled to see me two feet behind her when she turned around. She started to walk around me to make her way back to the living room without saying a word. I tried to reach for her as she went around me, but she managed to slip away.

  The only way I could get her to stop and talk to me would be to physically restrain her. So I did the only thing I could do, I followed her back to the living room. She looked at the door longingly and for a minute I was afraid we were going to have this conversation walking aimlessly around the neighborhood. She must have realized my resolve because half way to the front door, she turned aro
und and threw herself on the couch.

  She glared at me and crossed her arms over her chest. Dang, she was adorable when she was upset. I did not want her to feel threatened so I sat in the chair across from the couch.

  “Okay. Are you going to tell me what I said that apparently ticked you off so much you couldn’t stay in the same room with me?”

  Silence.

  “I am not going anywhere and if you do, I’ll just follow you. At some point you’re going to have to explain, and I’ll be waiting.”

  I was becoming frustrated and her glare became a little more wary. I took a steading breath before I launched into her.

  “You know, it’s kind of insulting that after two months you still get that look in your eyes around me. Do you not realize what you mean to me? I would never, could never, hurt you,” I huffed exasperatedly.

  Her eyes seemed to soften a bit with my words.

  “I’m not mad at you. I guess I’m angry with myself.”

  “Why?” I asked, confused.

  She smiled sadly.

  “Because when you say that you’re always going to be here. I’m starting to believe you.”

  Chapter Eleven

  BETHANY

  Gradually balmy late summer gave way to cooler, blustery winter days. Winter in south Texas is a capricious thing. Just when I thought it was safe to put away my comfy t-shirts and flip flops, an eighty degree day would have me digging into my summer wardrobe. Then overnight, a cold front would come through, sending me scurrying to put warmer clothes on. There was rarely a need for anything beyond a warm sweater or light jacket during the winter months. Near the gulf coast it rarely froze, much less snowed. Beyond the fleeting little snow flurries we occasionally got in this part of the world, I’d yet to see an actual accumulation of snow.

  My first Christmas with Logan was more fun than any holiday I could remember. Logan planned something festive almost every day during the month of December. One night, he insisted that we start a fire in his home’s ancient looking fireplace, even though it was almost sixty degrees outside. I highly doubted it had been used in the last century, much less ever been cleaned out. While we successfully managed to light a fire without burning the house down, we had to open every downstairs window in the house in order to tolerate the intense heat. The yummy s’mores we made out of toasted marshmallows were totally worth the effort.

  Last weekend, to my utter embarrassment, he insisted we travel to Houston to wait in an endless line at the Galleria because I mentioned I’d actually never been to see Santa. I still couldn’t believe we’d done it, but I had the picture of Logan and me smiling with a jolly Santa to prove it. We attended the annual tree lighting ceremony on the square while the Fort Grange High School band played Christmas songs. Another weekend, we watched nothing but cheesy old Christmas movies. While I gave Logan a hard time about it, I secretly loved every minute.

  On the Saturday before Christmas, Logan had another outing planned, but he refused to tell me where we were going. I jumped out of bed the minute I woke up, showered, dressed, and texted Logan in record time. I couldn’t wipe the silly smile off my face when I saw Logan waiting just outside the front door. It was a beautiful, crisp morning, with the high forecasted to be only near fifty, so I wore an old faded pair of blue jeans with a pale green turtle neck sweater. Usually, I didn’t enjoy surprises, but Logan’s were always good, so I was trying to be a good sport -- kind of…

  “So, do I get to find out what my surprise is yet?” I wheedled.

  Logan opened his welcoming arms to offer me a hug, and I gladly accepted. Maybe it would soften him up enough to let me in on the surprise early. He shook his head sternly.

  “Nope, no way. You will find out soon enough,” he smiled smugly.

  He gave me another tight squeeze before he led me to the passenger side of the Mustang. Over the past few months, I had learned to accept Logan’s gentle touch without fear. He couldn’t be in the same vicinity as me without some kind of physical contact -- holding my hand, touching the small of my back, or putting his arm around me. Occasionally, if he surprised me, I would still automatically flinch, but it was rare. When it did happen, he would always stop and glance at me for a second, reassuring himself that I was okay with the contact. Beyond that, he never verbally acknowledged my reluctance.

  He backed his car out of the drive and we quickly made our way out of town. Once we hit the highway, the route we were taking was familiar. Ha! I knew exactly where we were going!

  “We are going to the beach,” I announced triumphantly.

  “Not quite, but we can stop by on our way back.”

  My shoulders slumped. I thought I had it. Guessing was fun, so I kept racking my brain trying to figure it out, but I was stumped.

  “So are you going to give me any hints?”

  Logan smiled indulgently. He kept his eyes on the road, pretending to be deep in thought before he answered.

  “It has to do with Christmas,” he told me solemnly.

  “Wow. Thanks for the hint Captain Obvious,” I huffed, “Everything we’ve done all month has had to do with Christmas. Can I have a REAL hint? Please?”

  “Okay, but this is the last one. It has to do with Christmas, and it’s on Galveston Island.”

  I was still stumped. I was just going to have to be patient and see where we ended up.

  Once we made it to the windswept island, he turned toward the historic district. Several stately, turn-of the-century homes were scattered throughout the area. When he turned down a narrow side street and parked the car in front of an old building, I was perplexed.

  “This is the surprise?”

  “Just wait Miss Impatient. You’ll see.”

  When we got out of the car, the normally salty breeze was redolent with the scent of fresh roasted peanuts. Faintly in the distance, I heard carolers singing Christmas songs. Logan took my hand and led me closer to the source of the action. When we turned a sharp corner, I was transported back in time.

  It was a magical scene right out of a book. It resembled what a Christmas festival might have looked like in nineteenth century London. Old lamp posts decorated with garland and ribbons lined the street. People were strolling up and down the sidewalk dressed in Victorian era garb. Peddlers pushed rolling carts laden with yummy smelling foods through the crowd, hoping to entice hungry revelers. Storefront vendors were hawking their wares, encouraging customers to come in and browse. Musicians, acrobats, and jugglers performed on the street corners. Amid all of the chaos, romantic horse drawn carriages driven by sharply dressed men in top hats meandered up and down the road.

  “Judging by the smile on your face, I’m guessing you like my surprise?”

  “I love it!”

  My eyes flitted from one thing to another. There was so much to explore and experience, I wasn’t sure where I wanted to head first. Logan tugged on my arm and led me toward a waiting horse drawn carriage.

  “How about we start with a carriage ride?”

  I nodded my assent and Logan gave the driver his fee. The driver held his hand out to help me into the carriage, and my immediate reaction was to pull back. Logan quickly stepped in front of the smartly dressed man, and lifted me into the seat before pulling himself up to sit beside me. The driver climbed onto his perch in front, then lightly slapped the leather reins before the proud horses proceeded together simultaneously. The rhythmic clip-clop of the horses’ hooves serenaded us as we explored the festive holiday scene. Logan grabbed my hand and leaned in close, his warm breath tickling my ear.

  “Merry Christmas, Beth,” he whispered softly, sending goose bumps down my spine.

  The world disappeared for a precious moment. The only things that existed were the two of us in the carriage from a by gone era. The cacophonous noise of the street festival faded into the background. His liquid brown eyes gazed into mine. My throat tightened when Logan tilted his head even closer to mine. He was finally going to kiss me. I released an anxious breat
h as he brushed a kiss to my forehead. I was startled to discover I was a little disappointed.

  Despite my original protest, I knew my blossoming feelings toward Logan were definitely romantic. He had been careful not to label our relationship when I told him I wasn’t interested in a boyfriend. We spent the majority of our free time together, and his continual habit of caressing me, convinced me he felt the same. When it came to dating, I was inexperienced and unsure of the next step. In books and movies, girls my age dated someone for a few weeks, fell madly in love, had sex, and moved on to the next relationship. That cynical scenario wasn’t for me, but I lacked the confidence to make the first move.

  The Christmas festival began to wind down as darkness approached. We thoroughly enjoyed our blissful day in Victorian England, taking in the sights and eating way too much food. Afterward, we headed to River Oaks to view their extravagant Christmas lights. The upscale neighborhood erected elaborate Christmas decorations among gracious homes adorned by noble old oak trees. One of the light displays was synchronized to music, and it had me mesmerized. I’d watched various clips of similar Christmas displays on YouTube, but it was much more impressive in person. I wasn’t ready to go home, but we still had over an hour’s drive and we had to make it back to my bleak little house by ten.

  To my immense delight and astonishment, I saw very little of my loathsome step-dad after I met Logan. It was confusing, but I refused to waste a second of my reprieve wondering when it would end. My back might be healed, but I would never forget what Jack was capable of. When I was home, I was very cautious.

  Most nights, the lonely house was quiet, and Logan said a sweet goodnight at my bedroom door with a quick hug. Tonight, Jack was in the living room when we walked in together. It was a little eerie for Jack not to offer a forceful protest or rude comment when he saw us. By the time we made it to my room, Logan’s shoulders were rigid as he sat on my bed. He was always tense when Jack was around. He nodded toward the hallway.

  “Go ahead and get ready for bed. I’ll wait here.”

 

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