Every Breath

by Tasha Ivey

  Doing my best to clamp down on a smile, I make a feeble attempt at shaking my head sternly. “Oh, Jase,” I sigh. “What is it with you and reptiles?”

  I somehow manage to avoid Callie the rest of the school day, which tells me that she hasn’t talked to Drew. If she had, nothing could’ve stopped her from tracking me down and submitting me to her grand inquisition. All day, though, I’ve been thinking about the situation with Drew and trying to decide how I feel about it, but just because I’ve thought about it all afternoon doesn’t mean I have reached any conclusions.

  Okay, it has been nice to get to know him and just be in the presence of a man, for a change. But at the same time, for the past few months, I’ve had so many mixed feelings about all of it. Let me just say, he is hot. Every time we’re together, I have to make an effort not to stare and wonder why on earth he’s there with me. And he’s been a perfect gentleman and never pushed my boundaries, but don’t think I haven’t noticed the way he stares at my mouth when I talk, or eat, or . . . breathe. I’ve even caught his eyes grazing lazily up and down my body on occasion, too.

  I know he’s attracted to me, and I love that. But at the same time, I’m constantly comparing him to Shane, so I’ve been having trouble getting past some of those petty differences. For instance, Shane loved to read, just like me. Every Saturday, we’d spend the day curled up on the couch together reading. It always seemed magical to me how we would look up from our books at the exact same time to take a peek at each other. We wouldn’t say a word, just share a smile and go back to reading. There was no need to fill the perfect silence with needless chatter; we were just comfortable being there together.

  With Drew, there are rarely quiet moments that aren’t filled with television, phone calls, teenage boys, or loud music. If we do sit down to a quiet dinner, it seems unnatural for him to enjoy the simplicity of those calmer times. He is constantly talking, as if I’ll be offended if he’s not engaging me in some sort of captivating rhetoric or hilarious tale from that day’s practice.

  It’s not that it’s a bad thing that they are polar opposites, it’s just . . . different. And I don’t know how to get past thinking that he should be more like Shane.

  On my way home, I stop by the recruiter’s office to pick up the letters from the soldiers to distribute to all of the classes on Monday. The bundle is surprisingly large, considering that only 12 classes participated, and I know everyone will be so excited to see what they received. Myself included.

  I rush inside my house, thankful that it will be a while before Drew comes, and drop my purse onto the bench by the door. My cat, Darcy, races into the foyer to immediately nudge and rub against my legs. “Nice try, girl, but it’s not dinner time yet.”

  Curious to see if my class got a letter, I plop down on the bench and slide the bundle out of the manila packet. I thumb through each one, noting the different handwriting illegibly scrawled across the front of each envelope—definitely all written by men. Two identical letters rest at the bottom of the pile, one addressed to Mrs. Madison’s Class and the other to Mrs. Madison.

  Mrs.? Yeah, right. I think I’ve proven my point with that today. It won’t ever happen.

  I open the one addressed to my class first, careful to tear it open precisely across the top. It is a simple, neatly written note of thanks, and I’m so glad that it is a little more heartfelt than the one we received last year.

  Dear Mrs. Madison’s class,

  I just received your package of cards, and I wanted to let you know how thankful I am for them. It’s been a long year here in Afghanistan without any letters or contact with those in the states, so these cards are precious to me. I have shared your drawings with the other guys in my unit, and they’ve really made our week. Thanks for being so kind to someone you don’t even know. I look forward to hearing from you again.

  SSG Sawyer Harris

  Wow, much better than last year. The kids will be so excited to know that those cards truly meant something to him, and I’m grateful that he took the time to let them know it. What I can’t fathom, though, is what he has to say to me. I rip the next letter open a little more quickly, curiosity getting the best of me, and I pull out the crisp page. It’s slightly crinkled at one edge, with a little smudge of a dirty fingerprint.

  Dear Mrs. Madison,

  I just wanted you to know that I appreciate you taking the time from your usual activities with your class to make those cards for me. Honestly, I had been feeling more than a little depressed lately, and it was just what I needed. I see so little compassion and humanity anymore, and your efforts have given me a good dose of it. Below, you will find my email address. If you don’t mind, please send me a message to let me know you received my letters. The mail from here gets lost so easily, so I’ll feel better if I know you got them. I don’t want to disappoint the kids. I usually have some time to check emails every day. Thank you again.

  -S.H.

  P.S. – Sorry for the wrinkles and dirt on the page. I never write to anyone, so let’s just say that it arose some suspicion with the other guys. Needless to say, they were disappointed.

  I read through the letter a couple more times, smiling and enjoying the warmth and satisfaction of doing a good deed for someone. I can feel the underlying tone of sadness and loneliness bleeding through his words, so just imagining his smile when he received our cards will have me smiling the rest of the week. This year, our mission to make a difference for one of them is definitely accomplished.

  I’m leaning back against the wall, soaking in my reverie, feeling awfully good about myself, while Darcy impatiently stares at me. “It’s still not time for dinner. I have an email to send first.”

  After pulling off my shoes, I pad into the living room to sink into the couch with my laptop. I turn it on and take notice of the time. Five thirty. Drew will be here within an hour. I pull the letter back out and bring up a new email message, carefully typing in the address that Sawyer—or Staff Sergeant Harris—gave me into my contacts. I don’t know what he prefers to be called, but I’m not his underling, so I go with his first name.

  To: Sawyer

  From: Makenna Madison

  Subject: Your Letters

  Dear Sawyer,

  I wanted to let you know that your letters came today. You have no idea how excited my class will be to see them on Monday, and I thank YOU for taking the time to write them. It is hard for me to imagine what you are seeing there, but just know that you have about 23 new friends, including me, who will be thinking of you. We’ll send you a class picture and more letters soon. You do need contact with someone on this side of the planet, so feel free to email me any time, and I’ll pass on messages from the kids. Take care.

  MISS Makenna Madison

  Unmarried 2nd Grade Teacher

  P.S. Now you DO have someone to write to.

  I proofread my message before realizing that the very end may be trouble. What if he takes it the wrong way? But I do want him to feel like he has someone to talk to. Oh, what the hell.

  Click. Sent. Done.

  Nearly an hour later, Darcy has a full belly, I’ve straightened up the house, and I’ve showered. I’m doing really anything to keep me busy until Drew gets here, and meanwhile, trying to convince myself that there won’t be a fight. But honestly, after the way he tore out of the room earlier today, I’m not so sure about that. I haven’t ever seen him get mad before.

  Without any warning, Darcy screams and bolts upstairs, and I know why . . . that always means that Drew is here. She absolutely hates him. Callie says it’s because she’s rarely around men, but I think it’s because she’s loyal to only one man. Shane gave her to me.

  Heavy footsteps fall on the wood porch, so I reluctantly make my way to the door, taking a not-so-calming deep breath as I go. When I pull the door open enough to only allow my head to fit in the crack, I’m struck with how awful Drew looks—rigid, pale, and exhausted. “Hi, Drew.”

  His gaze lifts slightly to
meet mine. “Are you going to let me in?”

  Instead of answering, I give him a terse nod and step back, allowing him to come inside. He follows me into the living room, and when I sit on the sofa, he moves across the room and practically slumps into the recliner. With his elbows on his knees, he hangs his head and fists his hands into his hair.

  The room is bursting with tension, and I keep waiting for either the house to start caving in or for Drew to explode. But he remains fixed in that position, and the only sounds in the room are his quickened breath and the clock softly ticking on the mantle.

  “Drew?”

  His hands gradually relax and fall to his lap, but his head still hangs. “When are you going to talk to me about whatever it is that happened?”

  “What do you mean? I did talk to you about it today, and I didn’t think there was anything else to say. I gave you a way out, so all you have to do is take it.”

  He rises from his seat and paces. “That’s not what I’m talking about, Makenna. But don’t worry; we’ll get to that, too. I’m talking about whatever it is that happened that made you so reluctant to allow yourself to be happy. With me.”

  Realizing where this is heading, I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them. “You already know what it is since I’m sure Callie told you. I know I should be able to move past it, and I’ve tried, believe me. It’s just not ever going to happen.”

  “No,” he says, kneeling in front of me. “I have no idea what it is. All Callie has told me is that you’ve been through hell the last couple of years and that you need time. I’ve tried to be respectful of that. I haven’t pushed anything with you. I wanted you to be the one to take that step toward me and open up, so I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that you’re ready to move on with me.”

  “I really thought you knew.” I don’t know what else to say to him. So, I was wrong about that part, but it doesn’t change the fact that he wants more from me than I can possibly give. It doesn’t change the fact that, every time I’m with him, this little voice in my head tells me I’m betraying Shane. Don’t get me wrong, I like being with Drew, but I’m not sure that he’ll ever fully have my heart. Simply because I don’t have all of the pieces.

  “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me either.”

  Fighting panic, I shake my head and feel myself begin rocking back and forth. “No. I can’t. I just . . . can’t.”

  He sits on the sofa beside me, wrenches my clenched hands apart, and drags me over into his lap. His strong arms pull me to his chest, almost cradling me like a fragile infant, and he rests his head on top of mine, sighing deeply. “It’s okay, baby. We don’t have to talk about it right now.”

  I allow myself to sink into him and allow his familiar scent to calm me while he rubs his hands down my back and through my hair. I feel his soft breath on my scalp just before he presses a gentle kiss to the top of my head. Instinctively, I reach up and circle my arms around him and nuzzle my face into his neck. We’ve rarely gotten this close before, but I have to admit it feels pretty good.

  After a few moments, he pulls me away from him, placing a hand on one side of my neck, his long fingers stretching up behind my ear and into my hair. “About what you told me today. I have a pretty good idea about what you thought I wanted to say, but I can’t tell you how wrong you are. I really like you, Makenna, and I enjoy every moment I’m with you, whether you’re fully with me or not. I’ll take what I can get. And then, someday, I know that day will come when you’ll finally trust me enough to tell me whatever it is that upsets you so much. I’ll wait as long as you need me to. I’m not going anywhere unless you really want me to.”

  I close my eyes and sigh. “I’m so sorry for jumping to conclusions. It’s just that I worry so much about it, and I’ve been waiting on it to happen, for you to tell me that I’m not enough.”

  “Don’t worry about me, I think you’re more than enough. But you need to stop waiting for something bad to happen, and just enjoy what we have. We’ll get there, one day. I’m not in a hurry.”

  After we talk a little more, I feel slightly better, but I don’t feel any differently about where we stand in our relationship. I’m not sure if I should be offended or not, but Drew told me that I should consider talking to someone about it, even if it’s not him. Perhaps a professional. I know it’s not good to keep it all bottled up, but I’m afraid of what will happen if I let it all out. It’s all that I am, now, so if I let go of it, all that will be left of me is a broken, empty shell.

  Or is that what I am now?

  Drew leaves after a bit, with promises of calling me tomorrow to talk about what he really wanted to say to me today. As soon as she hears the front door shut, Darcy peeks down from the top of the stairs, descending each step with ninja stealth—or so she thinks. “The coast is clear. Come on down.”

  Her wide eyes glare at me, as if to ask “how did you even know I was here?” I just shake my head and laugh.

  I look over at the clock, and I’m shocked to see that it’s nearly midnight. It’s been a long day, and I feel like a complete idiot for the way I acted today. I’m ready to slip into my clean, cool sheets, bury myself into the blankets, and fade away into nothingness. For at least a week.

  After turning off all of the lights downstairs, a faint glow illuminates the living room, giving the room an eerie blue tint and stretching sinister shadows up the walls. Remembering my laptop is still on, I flick on the lamp by the couch, so I don’t run into something. Okay, and also because I may or may not be afraid of the dark, and those spooky shadows just really need to retreat for a minute before I walk back through the room.

  Before I close the lid, I notice I have a single email in my inbox, so I lean down to inspect it further. It’s usually just junk mail, anyway. But upon further inspection, I see that it’s from Sawyer. It’s a request to add him as a friend on an instant messenger.

  Okay. I guess I can go ahead and do that. He’s a million miles away, so I’m not too worried about him stalking me very effectively. But no sooner than I click to accept, I have a waiting chat message.

  Sawyer: ‘Hi, Makenna.’

  Well, that was fast.

  Me: ‘Wow. Hi!’

  Sawyer: ‘Bad time? I know it’s getting late there.’

  Me: ‘Not a bad time. I can spare a few minutes. I was just about to go to bed.’

  Sawyer: ‘Thanks for letting me know you got the letters. I’ve been worried about them making it there. You never can tell about the mail going out of here.’

  Me: ‘No problem. I know the kids will be excited to see them.’

  Sawyer: ‘Sorry about the Mrs. Madison thing. I guess I always assume all female teachers are Mrs.’

  Me: ‘Oh, I didn’t mean to imply I was offended. I just wanted to clarify.’

  Although I don’t know why.

  Sawyer: ‘Okay, I just wanted to be sure. Do you mind letting me know what the kids think about the letter? Since they are my new friends, and all . . .’

  Me: ‘I don’t mind at all. I wish you could see their faces when I show them.’

  Well, I guess I could get someone to take a picture of them with the letter, and I could send it to him. That would be a neat picture of the class for him to have.

  Sawyer: ‘Do you have a webcam in your classroom?”

  Me: ‘No, but I do on my personal laptop.’

  Sawyer: ‘If you can work it out to show them around noon, I can do a video chat with them after you give it to them. But only if you think it’s a good idea. That would probably be a lot more fun for me than for them.’

  Me: ‘Actually, I think they’d love it.’

  Sawyer: ‘Seriously? You’re going to do it?! You have no idea how awesome that would be for me.’

  He really must be lonely if he’s excited about chatting with a room full of seven year olds. That’s just sad.

  Me: ‘Count on it. Just make sure you’re logged on at noon, my time, and I’ll make it happ
en. Okay?’

  Sawyer: ‘I’ll be there. Wild insurgents couldn’t drag me away. Well, yeah, they probably could, but we’ll hope for the best. ;)’

  Me: ‘It’s a date. See you then.’

  Sawyer: ‘Goodnight.’

  He logs off immediately, but I can’t help but wish he’d come back. I feel so sorry for him, knowing that he’s far from home and has no one to really talk to. In a way, I feel the same, so I am somewhat empathetic.

  I know that I am home, but that’s not what I mean. I feel out of place and disconnected to everything around me, simply going through the motions each day to at least appear normal. And I don’t want to talk to anyone about my problems, not even Callie. She just tells me everything will get better, when every inch of my being tells me it never will. So, I’ve learned it is much easier to pretend and keep my feelings to myself, most of the time.

  I am gradually enjoying certain parts of life again, though. I’m pretending to be fine one minute, and then the next, I actually am. But to think that there will ever be a time in my life when I might actually feel complete again? I don’t see that happening. But, maybe . . . just maybe, I can find a tiny little speck of that with Drew.

  I wake up to a fuzzy paw swatting at my nose and the sound of a thunderous round of knocking at my front door. Darcy is looking at me as if to say, “You gonna go see who that is?”