"A few minutes." My eyes lift to his. "That's why I was mad. I wanted you to leave but you wouldn't."
"If you'd told me I would've—" He shakes his head. "No. Actually, I wouldn't have left. You shouldn't have been alone out there. Even if you really were just there to have some peace and quiet, it's not safe, especially at night. And given your real reason for being there, you shouldn't have been alone."
"You were alone today too. Well, except for customers."
"We were closed today, in honor of Seth. And I wasn't alone. I went to see my dad. He's in a nursing home that specializes in memory care. It's about a half hour from here. He didn't remember what today was, and that's probably for the best. I spent the day with him, watching TV, playing cards. When I left I got a call from someone needing a tow but when I got there, they were gone. If they'd been there, I wouldn't have found you on the bridge."
And if he hadn't found me, I'd be dead right now. It's strange to even think that. I'd be dead right now. Dead. Gone. No longer breathing. No longer alive.
If only he hadn't found me.
5
Skye
"Are you cold?" Travis asks, and I notice I'm leaned over, my arms crossed over me.
"Maybe a little."
"Shit, I'm sorry. I totally forgot I came up here to get you blankets and towels." He gets up and goes in his bedroom, then comes back with two towels and a heavy wool blanket. "Let me know if you need more."
"This is great. Thanks." I blot my still damp hair with the towel and set the other one aside.
Travis picks up the blanket and lays it over me. "Better?"
"Yeah. We can share if you're cold." I hold up the blanket for him.
"If I get under that with you, you're not going make another move on me, are you?" he kids.
I smile. "I promise to keep my hands to myself."
"That's too bad," he says, scooting over to get under the blanket.
He's flirting again, and I'm flirting back. I don't mean to but I keep doing it. I can't help it. He's hot and funny and seems like a really nice guy. The type of guy I'd date if I was looking to date someone, which I'm not.
"You and your cousin," he says. "You were close?"
I'm taken aback by the question. I thought after I told him what happened, he wouldn't ask me anything. Most people would be afraid to, or would think it's inappropriate, choosing instead to act like it never happened. That's why I don't talk about it. It makes people uncomfortable, me included. But I decide to answer his question.
"We were like sisters," I tell him. "She was my best friend."
"Same with my brother. I loved that asshole like nobody else. And then he goes and gets himself killed."
"It wasn't his fault."
"I know. I just hated that damn motorcycle. I know he loved it but I just had this feeling that one day, something would happen."
"Do you ever try to go back and change it?"
"All the damn time. I relive that day over and over, wishing I could've stopped him from taking a ride that day."
I relive that day too, wishing I'd never told Amy to look at that text. Wishing I'd held onto her when we were in the river. Wishing I'd got her to shore. Saved her.
"Skye?" Travis says, jarring me from my thoughts.
"Yeah. So, um, where'd you live before?"
"Cincinnati. I was working at a design firm."
"Design? You're an artist?"
"Engineer. Different type of design. The company develops prototypes for new products. I was there to make sure the products actually worked. They'd just offered me a promotion the day before it happened. Instead of taking it, I had to quit. With my brother gone, someone had to take over the business."
"Is that when your dad stopped working? After the accident?"
"Yeah. It was too much for me to try to learn the business while also babysitting Dad. That's what it'd become. He was in worse shape than Seth had made it sound. Some days he couldn't even remember my name. I couldn't care for him and care for the shop so I had to put my dad in a facility. It was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do but he's doing a lot better there than he'd be doing with me. The people there are trained in this and they're really good to him. I actually dated one of the social workers there. It didn't work out but we're still friends. My dad thinks she's my wife."
"You told him that?"
"No. He just saw us together a few times and got confused. I've tried to correct him but he forgets." He rubs his face. "It's really hard to see him that way. But I still go and visit him a couple times a week. Sometimes more."
"Sounds like a tough year. First your brother, then your dad. And taking over the garage. You think you'll sell it someday?"
"Don't know yet. I haven't even let myself go there. It's still too soon after Seth's accident. This was his dream and I feel like I'm letting that go if I don't take over and keep the place running, like he would've done if he were still here."
"But by doing this, you're missing out on your own dream."
"I don't really see it that way. Right now, I feel like this is what I should be doing. It's not what I want, but being in this garage, the place I spent so much time with my dad and brother, it feels right. Sometimes I even feel like they're still here. I know it sounds strange, but being here has helped me accept what's happened to them. Maybe in a couple years I'll feel like I'm done here and I'll be able to sell it. But for now? I'm not ready." His eyes lift to mine. "What about you? Does going back to the bridge really help you?"
"I don't usually go there. I usually avoid it."
"I can understand why. That had to have been horrible. Going over the edge like that? The car going into the river?" He shakes his head. "Fuck, that'd mess me up. I think I'd be avoiding all bridges after that, at least for awhile. So why tonight? Why'd you want to go back there?"
I can't tell him the truth so I make something up. "I wanted to talk to her. I feel like that's where she is. Still in the river. I know she's not buried there but I feel like maybe her spirit's still there. Does that sound crazy?"
"Not at all. So were you able to do it? Did you talk to her? Or did I interrupt before you could?"
"I didn't talk to her but it's not because of you. It's because I didn't know what to say."
"You didn't know, or you were afraid you'd break down if you did?"
"Both." I stare at the flickering candle. "I know she's gone but talking to her like she's gone makes it even more real. Sometimes I hear her in my head and it's like she's still alive. We have entire conversations but it's in my head, almost like a dream. But talking to her out loud, she doesn't talk back."
"I get that." He turns slightly and his knee bumps mine. He keeps it there as he continues. "I talk to my brother all the time, mostly here at the shop when I'm working. I'm sure anyone who's heard me probably thinks I'm nuts but I don't care. I do what I have to do to get through this."
"You seem to be doing really well."
He nods. "I am, actually. It still hurts having him gone but I've been able to deal with it better than I thought I would."
"How?" I ask, wishing I could do the same. Instead, I've struggled every day of the past year. Then again, he wasn't the cause of his brother's death the way I was the cause of Amy's.
"You know that girl I dated? The social worker?"
"Yeah."
"She lost her sister when she was 14. She knew what I was going through and just talking to her helped a lot. And then one day she said something."
"What'd she say?"
He chuckles. "That Seth would punch me if he saw me sitting around crying and being depressed."
"But that's normal. It's part of grieving."
"For a while, yes, but eventually you have to deal with it and keep going. Shana, that's her name, knew my brother because a friend of hers had dated him years ago. She knew he lived life to the fullest. Took risks. Didn't worry. We're opposites that way. He always told me I was missing out being so cautious all the ti
me. And he was right. He had a way better time in life than I ever did."
"But he died."
"Doing what he loves. And if he were alive, he'd tell me to do the same. To stop being so afraid and to do what makes me happy. To stop putting stuff off. To live life to the fullest because tomorrow could be the end. It sounds cheesy if you say it to someone who hasn't been through this but for someone who lost his brother, you take that shit to heart. You stop worrying about every little thing and you just enjoy life. I could be sitting here feeling sorry for myself over losing my brother, my dad being in a home, and having to run this business I didn't want, but instead I'm accepting it for what it is. A detour I wasn't expecting but that might just take me in the direction I was meant to go. I don't know what that is yet but worrying about it isn't going to help. I'll find out when the time is right. And who knows? Maybe I'm already on the path to something great and don't even know it. That's life. You never know what's coming next."
"That's not always a good thing."
"It is what you make it. You can make it bad or make it good. It's up to you. Obviously losing my brother was the worst thing that could've happened to me, but I survived it. I'm not letting it ruin my life, and by doing that, staying strong, I'm honoring my brother. Going on living when he can't anymore." He nudges me. "Sorry if I got too deep on you there. It's the day. The anniversary. Gets me thinking about stuff, you know?"
"Yeah," I mutter.
"You'll get there too someday."
My eyes snap to his. "What do you mean?"
"You're still struggling. Haven't found your way out. But you'll get there."
"I'm not—" It's no use denying it. I'm not able to hide my grief like my aunt does. "It's different for me. Because I was there when...when she died."
"You want to talk about it?"
"No," I say, shaking my head.
"If you ever do, I charge by the hour. A hundred for the first, then fifty after that."
I look at him, confused.
"I'm kidding." He smiles and puts his arm around me, yanking me into a hug like we're friends and do this all the time. "You can talk to me whenever you want. I'll give you my number before you go."
He starts to pull away but I hold onto him. I like his arm around me. I like my face pressed against his chest. I like his warmth. His strength. I like HIM.
He leaves his arm around me and gently smooths the back of my hair. "It's going to be okay. You're going to be fine."
I shake my head against his chest.
"You will. Just hold on. You'll make it through."
It's almost like he knows what I was going to do tonight. But he couldn't possibly know. He didn't see me standing by the guardrail. And I explained why I was there. He seemed to accept my excuse.
The lights flicker on and I pull away. "Hey! I can see again." I stand up. "Ready to go?"
He gets up. "You okay?"
"Yeah. But I should probably get home. It's getting late and you have to work tomorrow."
"We're not open on Sundays."
"You're not? Why didn't you tell my uncle that?"
"I'll open the place for him to see the car. It won't take long."
"You didn't have to do that. It's your day off."
"I don't mind. I'll be here anyways. I do some work on Sundays. I just don't open the shop."
"How'd you learn all this? Fixing cars? Did you have to go to some kind of training?"
"My dad taught me everything I needed to know. I was practically raised here. Worked here in high school."
"But you didn't want to do it for a living."
"No, but working here got me interested in engines and how things work, which is why I went into engineering." He checks his watch. "You sure you want to go? It's only eight. Or did you have plans for tonight?"
I didn't have plans for anything beyond the moment I was going to jump. I haven't even thought about the future for months. All I thought about was this day. Nothing beyond it.
"I don't have plans," I tell him. "Why? What'd you want to do?"
"Let's get something to eat." He motions to the stairs. "Go ahead."
I run down the stairs, almost tripping on the last one.
"Told you to be careful on those stairs," he says.
"You also told me not to be afraid," I say with a smile. "To take risks."
"So you WERE listening." He goes past me. "I wasn't sure."
Following him through the waiting area, past the check-out desk through the door to the garage, I stop and wait as he grabs a black leather jacket from a hook on the wall. I'm a sucker for leather jackets, especially black ones, and especially on hot guys like Travis.
A heat spreads through me when he puts it on. The leather jacket, white tee, those tight jeans. This guy has got me feeling things I haven't felt in...I don't even remember. I pretty much gave up on guys after freshman year. I thought college guys would be more mature than the guys I dated in high school. I thought they'd actually know how to treat a girl. But no such luck. They were just older versions of the idiots I dated in high school.
Travis is way more mature than those guys, and yet he doesn't look that old. And he's so much hotter than any guy I've seen on campus. Amy used to date really hot guys but none of them were this hot.
"You coming?" Travis asks, then he smiles and that heat spreads through me again.
"Yeah." I smile back and follow him outside to the truck.
"This way," he says, motioning me around the tow truck. On the other side of it is a black pickup. "We're not taking the tow truck," he says with a laugh.
"Yeah, that makes sense." I wait as he opens my door, then step up into the truck. It looks brand new. Even smells new.
"You just buy this?" I ask as he gets in.
"A few weeks ago. Traded in my dad's and my brother's and got this."
"I like it. I never used to like pickups but I'm starting to think they're not so bad."
"Why didn't you like them?" He starts the engine and pulls out to the street. The rain has almost stopped now but the road is full of puddles.
"No reason, really. I just liked cars better."
"Being out here in the country I thought it'd be good to have a truck. I still have my old car. I give it out as a loaner to customers who need it. Actually, if you want to use it while yours is being is fixed, just let me know."
"I might need to. Otherwise I won't have a way to get to class."
It's so strange to be talking about class. I didn't think I'd be going back.
"Burger and beer sound good?" he asks.
"Sure."
"There's a place just down the road. Kind of a dive bar but they have great burgers." He flips on the heat. "You're 21, right?"
“I’m 22, but I probably won't drink tonight."
"That's fine. Sometimes they card you when you walk in so I just wanted to check."
"How old are you?"
"Twenty five. An old man compared to you."
"You're not that old. I actually prefer older guys. Not that I'm implying we'd date or anything. I was just saying—never mind." I lean my head back, gazing up at the roof of the truck. Why did I just say that? It totally sounded like I was flirting with him. I keep doing that. Flirting when I don't mean to.
“So you really haven’t dated anyone in over a year?” he asks.
"No." I look forward again, focusing out the window. "I'm kind of taking a break from guys."
"Because of what happened?"
"No, I was taking a break even before that."
"Why? Some guy break your heart?"
"I didn't date any guys long enough for that to happen. I can't seem to find a guy I click with. All the guys I meet are really immature, or if they're mature, they're too serious. They don't know how to have fun."
"So you're looking for an older man who's mature and can have fun?"
"Well, not that old. I don't want some 40-year-old. I'm not even looking. I don't want to date anyone right now."
/> He nods, then glances at his side mirror. Does his silence mean something? Was he thinking we might date? I guess it's possible. He's really hot.
This is so confusing. Tonight was supposed to be the end and now I'm out with some guy, thinking about dating him. And I'm making plans to go to class on Monday.
I feel like none of this is real. Maybe I really did go in the river and now I'm dead and this is my afterlife. If it was, it wouldn't be so bad. I'm actually feeling a lot better now, which I shouldn't be, given what happened a year ago today.
Maybe I really am dead.
6
Travis
I'm parked in front of the bar and getting out of the truck when I notice Skye is still sitting there with her seatbelt on, staring out the window.
"You coming?" I ask.
She wakes from her thoughts and quickly undoes her seatbelt. "Yeah."
I'm worried about this girl. She seemed off when I found her on the bridge, like agitated and anxious. I guess that makes sense given what today is, but it still concerns me she was out there by herself. Someone should have been with her. A friend. Roommate. Her uncle.
It sounds like she gets along with her uncle but not so much with her aunt. I was hoping she'd tell me more but she wouldn't and I didn't want to push. She seems like someone who doesn't open up easily so I'm surprised she told me as much as she did.
I remember hearing about that accident on the bridge but I didn't get all the details. At the time I was so wrapped up in my own tragedy with my brother that I didn't pay attention to whatever else was going on. I only know about the accident because the customers at the garage were talking about it. But I think about it every time I go by that bridge, wondering what made them go over the edge. It wasn't bad weather that night. I heard the girl who died was the one driving the car. Did she just lose control? Reports showed she didn't have alcohol or drugs in her system so what happened?
"Do we just find a spot?" Skye asks, looking around the bar.
It's a dive bar with dark wood tables in what's considered the restaurant part and swivel stools lined up by the bar. Country music plays through the speakers and the old guy regulars are yelling at each other by the pool table.
With Every Breath Page 6