Thunder rumbles again, followed by another loud crack and boom. It rattles the windows and is followed by lightning that lights up the room. I look down and see Skye huddled on the chair, hugging her knees, her head resting on it.
I sit beside her and rub my hand over her back. "It's okay. It'll pass soon."
"I really don't like storms. And I'm tired of being cold. And wet."
"Let's go upstairs." I get up and find her hand, tugging on it.
"What's upstairs?"
"Towels and blankets. And food if you're hungry. And I might have some candles. I'll have to check."
"Why is all that upstairs?"
"It's my apartment. I live up there. My dad used to stay up there when he was working late. It's not much but it has what I need. C'mon. Let's go."
She slowly stands up. "You're not going to like, try anything, are you?"
"You're worried about ME trying something? You're the one who just fondled me."
I hear her laugh. "That was an accident. I swear."
"Yeah, I'm sure it was. People always mistake penises for hands."
She laughs again. "I didn't mean to do that. I'm really sorry."
"Would you like to hold my penis as we go up the stairs? Or will my hand do?"
She can't stop laughing. "Okay, that's enough."
"You didn't answer my question. Hand or penis? Or feel free to use both. Whatever works to make you feel safe."
"Hand is fine," she says, taking a breath.
I take her hand and go past the restrooms to the stairs. "Be careful. These are narrow stairs."
We take one at a time, going slow until we reach the top. Lightning hits and lights up the room enough for her to see my apartment.
"It's not that bad," Skye says.
"Thanks. Your compliments suck, by the way."
She laughs. "Sorry. I'll work on that."
"I was just kidding. I'm going to search for candles."
When I try to let go of her hand, she holds on. "Wait."
"What?"
"Can I go with?"
"Um, sure." I lead her over to the kitchen and feel around for the sink. "I think this cabinet might have some. I need to let go of your hand to check."
"Yeah. Go ahead."
She's really afraid of storms, which surprises me. She acted all tough out on the bridge.
Reaching to the very back of the cabinet, I find two tall candles. I saw them when I moved in but couldn't remember if I'd tossed them or not.
"Now we need to find matches," I say, setting the candles down on the counter.
"Right here." She shoves them in my hand.
"Where'd you find them?"
"I felt around in the drawers when you were getting the candles."
"So now you're fondling my drawers too?"
"Okay, enough," she says, laughing. "I promise to never touch you again. Happy now?"
Actually, no, because I like it when she touches me and would love for her to touch me again, wherever she wants. But I'm not going to tell her that. She knows I'm attracted to her, and I get the feeling she's attracted to me, but I didn't bring her here for anything more than to keep her safe, and help her warm up from the cold.
I light the candles, which gives a soft glow to the room. "How's that?"
"Better. Can I take one?"
"Go ahead."
She picks up a candle and slowly walks to the couch to sit down. My apartment is just two rooms, the living room-kitchen area and the bedroom, which has a small bathroom. I'd prefer a bigger place but I didn't want to get an apartment until I knew for sure what I was going to do.
Now it's been a year and I'm still trying to decide. Do I stay in this town, doing something I don't want to do for the sake of my family? Or go off and do what I intended to do before it all happened? Before my world collapsed and everything changed.
4
Skye
Travis joins me on the couch. It's the only place to sit. There's no room for more furniture. Apartments around here are cheap. He could find something else that's bigger. I wonder why he doesn't.
"So what else?" he asks, his mouth rising to a slight smile.
"I don't know what you're asking."
"I'm curious what else makes me look like a killer. If this is true, it could affect business here at the shop. I don't want customers going elsewhere because they're afraid of me. So what else? Besides the beard and my size? And just so you know, I don't normally have a beard. I've just been busy lately and haven't had time to shave the past few days."
I point to his face. "You grew that in a few days?"
"Three to be exact. I'll shave it off tomorrow."
He grew a full beard in three days? Uncle Ray once tried to grow a beard and after a week it was still just patchy stubble.
"The shirt," I say. "The one you were wearing earlier?"
"Yeah. What about it?"
"The color, the plaid, the flannel. It all says killer."
"Really?" He considers it. "I was going for more of a lumberjack look."
"Which is exactly what it says, but think about it. Lumberjacks carry around axes and machetes and saws. All things used to kill people."
"They don't use machetes, and very few people are killed by axes and saws."
"Maybe not but it still gives you that killer look."
"Then what do you think I should wear?"
I turn and look at him in the dim light of the candles. "That t-shirt is good."
He chuckles. "It's a work t-shirt. I wear these under my garage shirts. I don't wear them out."
"Then get some other t-shirts. Ones you'd wear out."
"You want to go with me?"
"Where?"
"Shopping. Would you help me pick some out?"
The question makes me pause. He's asking me to do something at a later date. A date in the future, something I didn't have just a few hours ago. Today was supposed to be the end, but I wasn't able to do it and now I'm not feeling like I want to go back there. But I have to. I made a promise to Amy. The day of her funeral I vowed to join her in that river. It's not fair that I get to go on living and she doesn't.
"Um, I don't think I'll have time," I say.
"It wouldn't take long and I could really use the help. And when we're done I'll buy you dinner."
Dinner? Is he thinking this would be a date? Or does he really need my help?
"What do you need new shirts for? Do you go out a lot?"
"Not really. I've been working nonstop since I moved here but that doesn't mean I couldn't use a few more shirts, especially if that plaid one makes me look like a killer. Would you at least consider helping me out?"
"I'll think about it."
He rubs his hand over his jaw. "I'll shave this tomorrow, although I really don't think it makes me look like a criminal."
"I didn't say it did. I was just telling you what I learned in class. It's just a theory but I think it's based on research."
"Some experts say beards are used as a method of attraction. A way to attract a mate."
"I'm guessing these experts are men?"
"Are you saying you don't like men with beards?"
"Depends on the beard. And the guy."
"What about this beard?" he asks as he strokes it.
I shrug. "It's not bad."
"What about the guy?"
Looking away, I say, "I don't know. It's hard to say. We just met."
My phone rings and I see it's my uncle calling. He's calling to see how I'm doing since it's the anniversary of Amy's death. He wanted me to come home today but I told him I wanted to be alone. Given what I had planned, I asked him not to call me but I assumed he wouldn't listen. He's like a dad that way. He does what he thinks is best for me instead of what I ask.
"You need to get that?" Travis asks.
"Probably." I sigh as I answer, "Hey, Uncle Ray."
"Skye, I just wanted to see how you're doing. I heard you have bad storms there."
; He's using that as his excuse for why he called instead of mentioning Amy's death. He's clever. I'll give him that.
"Yeah, it's raining really hard and there's lightning and thunder."
"You okay? I know how much you don't like being alone in a storm."
"I'm fine. And I'm not alone," I say, looking at Travis. He's really hot, even with the beard. And that plaid shirt? I lied. It didn't make him look scary. He looked like a hunky lumberjack, like the kind you see in those calendars of hot guys doing manly stuff, like chopping down trees.
"Where are you?" Uncle Ray asks.
"At a garage. An auto shop. I had car problems."
"Car problems?" he asks, sounding alarmed. "What kind of problems?"
"The guy said something about brake fluid? I'm not really sure but he said it wasn't safe to drive so I had to have it towed. Don't worry about the cost. I'll pay for it."
"You're not paying for it. I'll take care of it. Where'd you break down?"
"Um, just on the road. Not far from my apartment."
I can't tell him I was on the bridge. If I did, he'd think I'm still grieving Amy's death and try to force me back into counseling. I went to counseling twice after the accident and never went back. The counselor kept trying to get me to talk about Amy and I couldn't do it. I didn't want to. My memories with Amy were mine, not some stranger's who'd never even met Amy.
"Did you take it to Auto Fix?" Uncle Ray asks.
Auto Fix is the auto repair place that's close to my apartment. It's a chain. They have them all over.
"No, it's at Stranski Automotive."
"Where's that?"
"Just outside of town, past the old drive-in theater."
"Huh. Never heard of it. How'd you end up choosing them over Auto Fix?"
"The owner saw me on the side of the road and asked if I needed a tow. He was driving the tow truck when I met him."
Now that I think about it, why was he driving around in a tow truck? Did someone call for one and then change their mind?
"Who is this guy?" Uncle Ray asks, sounding concerned. "Are you sure he's legit?"
"Yeah. I'm at his garage right now. It's a legit business."
Travis reaches for the phone. "Let me talk to him."
"Uncle Ray, the garage owner wants to talk to you."
"Yes. Put him on."
I hand the phone to Travis.
"Hello, this is Travis Stranski. I own the garage. And you're Skye's uncle?" He nods, then says, "Nice to meet you. I noticed some brake fluid leaking from Skye's car. I towed it to my shop and could check it out tomorrow, or if you'd rather take it somewhere else, that's fine. It's up to you. And don't worry about the towing fee. Skye didn't want me to tow it but I insisted. I didn't want her driving the car if there was something wrong with the brakes." He nods and listens. "Yes. Of course. I'll get her home. Let me give you my number so you have it." He rattles off the number, then says, "No problem. We'll see you tomorrow." He hands the phone back to me.
"You're coming here?" I ask my uncle.
"I want to check on the car. And I'd like to take you to lunch if you're free. Maybe get you some groceries."
"You don't have to do that."
"I want to see you. So does Nora. This was a difficult day for us. For all of us. We should have been there with you."
"I told you I didn't want that." I get up and walk to the other side of the room, which isn't very far. The kitchen and living area are about the size of a dorm room.
"You shouldn't have been alone today. I had your aunt and I was still barely able to hold it together."
"What about Aunt Nora?" I ask, picturing her with that fake smile she's perfected the past year.
"She was a mess," he says in a somber tone. "It was even worse for her not having you here."
"ME?" I say, shocked by his comment. "I'm the last person she'd want there today."
"Skye, why would you say that? Your aunt loves you. She misses you. Just today she was—"
"I don't want to talk about it, okay? And as for coming tomorrow, you don't need to. I'll deal with the car."
"I want to check it out myself, and I want to meet this mechanic. He sounds okay but you never know. He said he'd take you home but are you sure you can trust him? Because if you feel even the slightest bit uncomfortable with him, I'll come get you right this instant."
"No. It's fine. So what time are you coming tomorrow?"
"We'll be there at ten. We'll pick you up and you can show us where this garage is. After we check out the car, we'll all go to lunch."
"Aunt Nora really wants to come here?" I ask, not believing him. She almost never comes to visit, not since Amy died. Before that, she'd come see us all the time, but she was coming to see her perfect daughter, not her crazy niece who she doesn't understand and wishes would go away and never come back.
"She's the reason I called," Uncle Ray says. "She wanted me to talk you into letting us see you tomorrow. She really does miss you, Skye."
"Yeah, okay," I say, rolling my eyes. "I'll see you tomorrow."
Ending the call, I walk back over to Travis. "Ready to take me home?"
He holds up his phone. "Just got an alert. We're under a tornado watch. I don't want to be out driving until it expires."
"Which is when?"
"About an hour from now."
I sit down on the couch. "So now what?"
"You want something to eat? You hungry?"
"Not really."
"How about a drink? I've got water, Coke. A bottle of scotch." He chuckles. "I could mix all three if you want."
"No, thanks." I look down, still thinking about what Uncle Ray said. Does Aunt Nora really want to see me or was he just saying that to make me feel better? To make me think she cares?
"So why'd you lie?" I hear Travis ask.
"What?" I look up at him. "I didn't lie."
"You said your car broke down on the road. Why didn't you tell him the truth?"
"Because he doesn't need to know." I tap my phone on my leg, gazing down at the floor.
"Why would he care?"
I get up and walk to the window, which is fogged up from the rain. It's still raining really hard and I see lightning in the distance.
"Skye, why would he care?"
"Just leave it alone, okay?"
I feel Travis behind me. "Why were you even there?"
"I told you, I like looking at the river. Water calms me."
"You didn't seem calm when I found you there."
Turning to him, I explain. "Because it was dark and then this creepy guy who looked like a killer lumberjack came up behind me. Anyone would be freaked out by that."
"Skye, stop lying."
"I'm not lying!" I go around him. "Why would I lie about that?"
"I don't know. That's what I'm trying to figure out. You were obviously there for a reason. Hardly anyone uses that bridge, and I've never seen anyone stopped on it. If you really wanted to look at the river, you could've gone to the park."
"The park is crowded. I wanted to be alone."
"It's not crowded on a Saturday night."
"Would you stop talking about this? It's none of your business why I was there."
"Fine. Let's sit down. Talk about something else." He takes a seat and waits until I sit beside him. Then he leans back, putting his arm along the back of the couch. "I wasn't supposed to run this damn garage. I never liked it. The smell of the oil. The grease. Spending weekends watching my dad fix cars. It wasn't me." He glances at the window, where rain continues to pelt the glass. "This was my dad's dream. And my brother's."
"So why isn't your brother running the place?"
"Because he's dead," Travis says in a casual tone. "Died a year ago today."
I pause as my brain catches up to what he just said. Today is the anniversary of his brother's death? He lost his brother the same day I lost Amy? What are the odds? I'm not one who believes in fate but it almost seems like that's what this is. Fate. Bringing u
s together on this day that marks the anniversary of a day that changed our lives forever.
"How?" I ask, hesitantly. "Or if you don't want to tell me—"
"It was a motorcycle accident. After work, he'd take his bike out on the country roads. Just past here, the road veers off and you've basically just got fields on both sides. A few farm houses now and then but that's it. I always worried about him on that bike but I figured he's safe taking roads nobody goes on. But that day, he took a different road. A shortcut to his apartment. He was hurrying to get home so he could go out for drinks with his roommate who was in the army and being shipped off the next day. Anyway, Seth was going through an intersection when some drunk asshole in a truck barreled past the stop sign and slammed into my brother." He pauses. "And that was it. One minute he was alive. The next he was dead. He was 22."
"I'm really sorry," I mutter, riveted by his story. The way he described it I can see it in my head. It's horrible. Tragic. Just like my own story, and yet he seems so much more together than me. I never would've guessed today was the anniversary of his brother's death. But knowing that makes me feel like we share a special bond. A similarity. I feel close to him even though we just met.
"She was my cousin," I say, keeping my eyes on the candle flickering on the table in front of us.
"Who?" he asks.
"The girl who died in the river," I say, surprised I'm telling him this. I don't tell anyone this.
"The one who went off the bridge?" he asks.
"Yeah. I was with her when it happened. We both went in the river." I take a breath. "But she didn't survive."
I chew on my lip as a tear goes down my face.
"Skye, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize that's why you—wait, so that's why you were there? Was today—" He doesn't finish the thought.
"Today was a year. It happened a year ago. Right where my car was stopped."
He's quiet, staring at me, then says, "Skye, I'm not judging you or anything but it's probably not the best idea to be going back there. I mean, just being there again you've gotta be reliving the whole thing. That's gotta mess you up."
"Not really," I say softly. "I relive it even when I'm not there so it's not like it makes a difference where I'm at."
"How long were you there tonight before I showed up?"
With Every Breath Page 5