Barely Breathing

“No,” I breathed, a whimper escaping. I put my hand over my mouth to contain it. Tears streamed down my cheeks, cascading over my fingers. A warm hand pressed against my back, but I didn’t turn to face him. I just listened.

“She had too much to drink tonight,” he tried to console. “And we got in kind of an argument, so it’s not you. I’m so sorry.”

I breathed in deeply through my nose, removing my hand and wiping my cheeks before Evan could see. He scooted over to sit next to me.

“Emma? Are you still there?”

“Yes,” I replied. “I’m okay.” I took another breath to calm the twisting nerves strangling my chest, wiping my cheeks dry. “I’m okay,” I repeated in a whisper, convincing myself.

“Go back to sleep,” he murmured. “It’ll be over in the morning.”

“Okay.” I hung up the phone and set it on the table.

Evan pulled my quivering body into him, wrapping me tightly.

“Is everything okay with your mother?”

“Yeah,” I breathed. “She forgot I was staying over at Sara’s, so she was upset. She thought something had happened to me.”

Evan didn't say anything. He held me tighter while gently rocking me and pressed his lips against my forehead. He moved back down on the bed, and I followed, lowering my head onto his chest. I pressed my ear against his heart to hear its rhythmic beats. Eventually, his breaths lengthened, and I knew he had fallen asleep. A tear ran over the bridge of my nose and dripped onto his smooth skin.

I listened to his calm, wanting it to capture me as well, but the storm inside of me wouldn’t rest.

13. Overreaction

I snuck out of the guest room before Evan woke. I could hear whispers and movement further down the hall, although it was barely dawn. I suspected there was a need to escape before the sun shed too much light on faces that didn’t want to be seen.

I found a few girls searching through the basket of clothes that were pulled from the dryer, picking out items that belonged to them, stuffing them in their overnight bags.

“Emma,” a petite blonde beckoned. “Could you get us our keys and phones so we can go?”

“Sure,” I answered. I took out the bag that we’d hidden in the back of the hall closet and started laying out the Ziploc bags labeled with each person’s name. They took their possessions and left. Most of the girls and a few of the guys were gone by the time Sara dragged her feet down the stairs, looking like she was still in need of a few more hours of sleep.

“Whatcha doin’?” she asked, stretching her arms with her hair twisted in a pile on the top of her head.

I tied up a trash bag filled with cups, bottles, and stale chips and set it next to another full bag. She looked around. The kitchen was beginning to resemble itself again since I’d already peeled back a layer of party leftovers.

“Thanks for picking up.” She sat down on a stool, rubbing her palms over her eyes. “The cleaners are coming around noon, so we don’t have to go crazy.”

“How are you feeling?” I sat down next to her.

She propped her head up on her hand and yawned wide. “Tired. You?”

“Tired,” I concurred. “Almost everyone’s gone. I think there are a few guys sleeping on lawn chairs by the pool, a few more on the couches. Mandy, Casey and Jill are upstairs in the rec room.”

“Alone?” she stressed.

“Kyle may be up there too, but Jill was luggage last night, so I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

She groaned, “I hope not,” then collapsed her head into her arms, “I think my head is going to fall off.”

I smiled. “Are you going to tell me what happened between you and Jared last night?”

“No,” she answered, her voice muffled from within her arms.

“What?” I shot back. “You want me to tell you everything.”

“But you don’t,” she retorted, lifting her head up. “Honestly, we just passed out.”

“And now what?” I pushed.

The tiredness shed from her eyes with the emergence of a smile. She lifted her shoulders in a knowing shrug. I knew exactly what that meant.

“Looks like you’ll be putting some miles on your car, huh?”

“Yup,” she beamed.

“So, just like that?” I asked curiously. “He shows up at your party, and that’s all he needed to do?”

“Not exactly,” she confessed guiltily.

I waited for her to continue.

“He wanted to keep seeing me after New Year’s.” I raised my eyebrows at this revelation. “I just couldn’t see it working out. But he called and emailed a couple of times trying to convince me. Then he stopped, and that’s pretty much when I became a stupid girl. So when he showed up last night…” She paused and grinned, “I knew I couldn’t say no again. You’re right. I have to at least try.”

“Good morning,” Evan said from behind us. “Wow, we have some work to do before we leave, huh? Sara, what time’s your flight?”

“Three,” she answered, sliding off the stool to begin tearing the hearts off of the wall. She was heading to Florida for February break, and Evan had skiing plans in Tahoe with the California guys―leaving me alone in Weslyn. They had both invited me to go, but I felt I should spend the week with my mother, since that was the point of moving in with her in the first place.

“Do you want a ride? My flight’s at three-fifty.” He came up behind me to wrap his arms around my shoulders, kissing me on the top of my head.

“That’d be great,” she agreed. “Except, my parents aren’t coming back until Sunday.”

“I thought you were too?” I questioned.

“Umm… no,” she answered with a smirk.

“I’ll pick you up on Friday,” Jared’s voice answered before he came into view on the stairs. Of course. It all made sense now.

“Perfect,” Sara replied, color returning to her face and her hangover miraculously disappearing.

Jared and Evan woke the rest of the guys. A few helped put the pool furniture back in place, but the other pale, grumbling faces took their possessions and dragged themselves out the door.

The girls slunk down the steps once Sara turned on the music. If she was up then everyone else had to be too. Aspirin and sodas were passed around as we tackled the repercussions of throwing a party. I stepped in something wet on the carpet in the family room in my bare feet, and every inch of me shuddered. I wouldn’t even let myself think about what it might be.

When the cleaning ladies showed up, the house was stripped of the anti-V-day décor, but the aftereffects still lingered in the air, which was apparent when they scrunched their noses upon entering. Sara left them a huge tip before we headed out for breakfast.

“I still owe you a Valentine’s Day,” Evan stated in the car, after I’d stuffed my face with way too many blueberry pancakes.

“No you don’t,” I replied honestly. “I don’t think anything will be able to top last night. It was pretty great.”

“It was,” he agreed, pulling down my street. “But would you be interested in going on a normal date? You know, adventure-less? Dinner, movies or something?”

I grinned at the thought of the two of us in a restaurant and nodded. “That would be nice.”

“After I get back,” Evan promised, turning into the driveway.

I only half heard him because I was staring at the cheerful yellow house, fearful of what awaited me after my mother's distraught phone call.

“Are you okay?” Evan asked from beside me.

“Huh?” I answered, pulling my eyes away to look at him.

“Is everything all right between you and Rachel? You were really upset last night.”

“I just felt bad that I worried her, that’s all. Just a miscommunication,” I explained lightly, not wanting him to hear the guilt beneath the sugar coating. “We’re fine.” When he didn’t look convinced, I insisted with a smile, “Really.”

“You’d tell me, right?” Evan looked into my eyes, trying to read the truth. I blinked away, skirting my eyes to the floor.

“Of course,” I answered, opening the door. I leaned over and pressed my lips to his, begging him to believe me. “Have fun in Tahoe with the guys. I’ll see you on Sunday.”

He pulled me toward him and gave me a kiss that would be sure to tide us over for the entire week. Barely able to stand, I staggered toward the door―turning once to wave before he backed out of the driveway.

I took a deep breath, sobering instantly when I clasped the cold door handle. I pushed it open with my pulse racing, not sure what was about to happen. I quietly shut the door behind me, and froze when I heard laughter coming from the kitchen. Not at all what I was expecting.

“Emma,” Rachel exclaimed still giggling from within the kitchen. “How was the party?”

The radio playing in the background was suddenly cut off by the high pitched sounds of a blender.

“Don’t let it get too thin,” my mother instructed. I walked to the doorway to find the counters covered in food in different stages of preparation. Tomatoes were diced on a cutting board; garlic skins littered the table; lime slices lay squeezed and abandoned, and the entire kitchen smelled of cilantro and jalapenos.

“Hi,” I greeted hesitantly.

“Hey,” Jonathan smiled, appearing completely relaxed. “We’re umm…”

“Preparing for Margarita Call Out of Work Day,” my mother explained. That’s when it struck me that they were supposed to be at work, it being Monday. “We’re going to Heidi’s to play cards and pretend we’re in Mexico.”

“Oh,” I responded, thrown by her exuberant disposition. “Sounds fun.”

“Yes it does,” she answered excitedly. “I figured Jonathan could handle making salsa.” She examined the contents of the blender, “Maybe I was wrong. Sweetie, just go start packing the bag, and I’ll fix this, okay?” She kissed him on the cheek when he grimaced apologetically.

“He can't cook either," she explained with a comical shake of her head. "So, how was the party?” she asked again once Jonathan had passed me to get a bag out of the coat closet.

“It was fun,” I answered, wondering if I’d dreamt the phone call. “But I didn’t get a lot of sleep. I think I’m going to crash for a while.”

“That happens―means it was a great party.” She smirked knowingly. I hesitated, examining her. She looked perfectly fine, not at all devastated as she was on the phone last night.

"What?" she questioned when I lingered too long.

“Have fun in Margaritaville,” I offered with a smile.

She laughed at my reference and declared, “Oh, we will.”

“Where are the mixers we bought?” Jonathan hollered from the living room, placing bottles and glasses into a re-usable shopping bag.

“Upstairs in my room,” my mother responded. Jonathan was a few steps behind me as I dragged my body up the stairs.