Barely Breathing

I nodded, staring down at my lap.

“My aunt didn’t like me very much either," I blurted out of nowhere, redirecting my gaze toward the house across the street. "Actually, I’m pretty sure she hated me. I mean, you don’t strangle a person if you like them even a little, do you?”

Jonathan’s eyes widened in surprise. I guess he hadn't seen that coming.

“Wow, that was kind of a messed up thing to say,” I admitted with a nervous laugh.

“Yeah, a little,” he said with a slight chuckle.

"I can't believe I just told you that." I shook my head in embarrassment. "You'd think that I'd be over it by now. I mean, she's in jail. But I can't seem to let it go."

"Believe me, I understand. My father's been dead for years, and he still gets to me."

Any remnants of a smile fell from my face. "I'm sorry."

“I’m not.” I was taken aback by the conviction in his voice. His face was emotionless and smooth. And in that moment, I was envious. I shifted uneasily, struck with guilt for wishing she were dead for even that one second.

Jonathan exhaled audibly. “Wow, we’re depressing as hell, aren’t we?”

I laughed at the tension breaker. “Pretty pathetic.”

“So, what are you up to today?” he asked, averting the heavy topic that threatened to devour us.

“Well, I guess I’m going to finish this run,” I answered. “Then… I don’t know. And you?”

“Exercise sounds good,” he acknowledged. “Maybe I’ll go for a swim. Then, I guess I’ll be back over.”

"What are you going to do?" I asked, fearing his motives to return.

“Don’t worry,” he assured, “no more drama. Despite what happened, I don't freak that easy. I'm not going to break it off.”

“Good.” I smiled lightly, finding myself hoping my mother wouldn’t continue with her liquid therapy and end up pushing him away for good.

I left him on the bench with words of seeing him later and returned to my run. I had a hard time making sense of what was happening, connecting with someone through shared misery. I didn't get it, but I wasn’t ready for him to leave either.

I returned to the house cleansed with sweat, and discovered that I’d missed a call from Casey. After stripping off the layers and guzzling a glass of water, I called her back.

“Will you go to a party with me tonight?” she asked, straight to the point.

“Uh,” I stumbled, not expecting the question. “I don’t know.”

“Please, Emma,” she begged. “Jill and Sara are away, and this party is supposed to be amazing. I don’t want to go by myself.”

I sighed, having a feeling I was going to regret saying, “Fine, I’ll go.”

“Yes!” she exclaimed loudly. “I’ll pick you up at nine, okay?”

“Sure,” I agreed. “Where are we go―” She'd hung up. I supposed it didn’t matter. They were basically all the same anyway.

“That’s a cute sweater,” my mother noted as she watched me concentrate on brushing my lashes with mascara. It was the first time I'd seen her. She'd stayed in her room most of the day.

“Thanks,” I responded, twisting the tube back together. “It’s really warm though, so I hope I don’t get too hot.”

“Cashmere does that. Wear a nice tank top underneath. I have a white one that would look great if you needed to take off the sweater.”

“Okay, thanks," I replied, glancing at her reflection in the mirror.

She hesitated and said, "I keep fucking up, huh?" I turned to face her as she let out a disheartened sigh. "I'm sorry."

Before I could respond, she went to her room and returned holding a ribbed tank top with a sweetheart neckline.

"Thank you," I offered, not sure how to recognize her apology. I pulled off the hooded green cashmere sweater and slipped on the tank.

“Fits perfectly,” she admired. “Where’s the party?”

“Not sure exactly,” I admitted. “Do you want me to call you?”

“No,” she replied with an indifferent shrug. “You’re not the troublemaker kind, too much like your father.” She smiled gently and turned to walk away.

"Mom," I beckoned, "I mean, Rachel." She turned back toward me, her face worn and sad, even though she was trying to hold a semblance of a smile. "Are you okay?"

My mother blinked away the tears that formed in her eyes. She cleared her throat and tried to laugh. "I can't believe I'm acting like this." She swiped a hand over her lids. "I'm behaving like a sixteen year old." Then she quickly spurted, "No offense."

I smiled.

"I knew he was younger. And I knew that I get attached easily," she explained. "I shouldn't be surprised that I freaked him out." She appeared distraught as she confessed with a pained voice, "I just like him so much, Emily."

"I know." I smiled in sympathy absorbing the crushed look in her eyes. I wanted to tell her that it would be okay. That he wanted to be with her too, but I wasn't convinced that was the truth. So instead I offered, "You're stronger than this."

My words left her without her own. She appeared surprised, and a tear seeped down her cheek.

We were interrupted by a honk.

"Oh, that's Casey," I stated. Then I paused, "Do you want me to stay?"

"No," my mother smiled, smoothing her damp cheek with a shake of her head. "Go. Have fun. Besides, he should be here any minute."

Jonathan was on the walkway as I headed to Casey's car.

“Party?” he confirmed.

“I guess,” I shrugged. “See you later. Oh, and be good to her,” I said lowly as he passed me. I turned away before he could answer.

When I opened the door to Casey’s Mini, electronic beats were released into the quiet neighborhood.

“Hi,” she yelled, not making an effort to turn down the music that reverberated through my chest. I just nodded in return.

Casey wasn’t a non-stop talker and messenger of all things gossip like Jill. She usually got the stories mixed up or completely wrong, so she’d listen and repeat what she didn’t understand―which was most of it. She was genuinely a good person, but carrying on a conversation would take patience I didn’t possess at the moment―so I just let the music do the talking.

We zipped through the winding dark roads of Weslyn, venturing into the neighborhood lined with iron gates. The houses hidden were set within the hills, displaying all their grandeur while overlooking the rest of us below. I knew this was going to be quite the party.

Casey turned the music down as we entered a long drive. The electronic gates slid open when we pulled in front of them. She eyed me in expectation.

“Are you mad?” she asked, biting her lip―preparing for my reaction.

“Uh, no,” I replied, eyeing her suspiciously. “Why would I be mad?”

“You’ve never been here?” she questioned in surprise.

I watched the stone castle emerge before us as we crept up the wide circular drive filled with cars. It even had a tower in the center, with wings upon wings spread out on either side. The flawless structure was built with large round stones. It was impressive, but emitted a cold, façade.

“I would remember this place,” I gawked. “Who lives here?”

Casey stopped the car for the valet and put it in park. “Drew.”

Before I could react, she was out of the car and taking a number from the guy in the black

jacket.

Now I was mad.

“Why are we at Drew’s? What made you think this was a good idea? And why would you invite me to come with you?” I barraged, shoving my car door open.

“Geez,” Casey sulked. “He never has parties, and I really wanted to see the inside of his place. We’ll leave in an hour, okay?” She looked like a pathetic puppy who got scolded for chewing on the furniture, her blue eyes big and her brows tilted down―I released an annoyed sigh.

“Fine, an hour,” I grumbled. “But don’t lose me, okay?”

“I promise,” she chirped, all perked up again. I almost expected her to jump up in the air and clap.

I followed her through a large wooden door with a cast iron knocker as large as my head. We entered the open-ceiling foyer, where a large table displaying an enormous floralscape centered the space.

There wasn't much of a crowd yet. The people we passed could have come from anywhere, since most were unrecognizable to me. Casey paraded through, handing her jacket off to someone behind a closet door. I followed after her loose bobbing curls, but she made a turn down one of two halls and disappeared.

I turned the corner, and the space opened into what must have been the family room. There were dark brown leather couches pushed against one wall. And a sleek, handcrafted twenty foot bookcase climbed up another wall, displaying books and artifacts of various shapes and sizes. Large arching windows spread across two sides of the room, and on the far end, lights were suspended on poles, flashing on a dance floor. Tall, thin speakers framed a guy standing at a computer with large black headphones on his nodding head.

The room was scarcely populated―a few people sat on the couches and a few more stood around the perimeter talking. But Casey was nowhere to be found.

“Where’s the bar?” I asked the first random person who passed me.

“Down those stairs,” the girl pointed then continued after her friends.

There was an arch in the wall, barely noticeable as the hall rounded a corner. I entered to find wide curving stairs―leading down to the dungeon, I presumed. I followed the polished wooden steps around the bend, into the largest rec room I’d ever seen. There were several pool tables, two bars, couches, televisions, foosball tables and a basketball shooting game. Soft lighting filtered through sconces around the perimeter of the stone walls.

There were more people down here than upstairs, but it still wasn’t crowded―or maybe the space was so large it didn’t feel like it was. I thought I spotted Casey at the bar at the far end of the room, and I crossed several groups of people to get to her.

“Emma Thomas?” a girl questioned behind me. I turned to find a group of girls in glittery tops holding martini glasses, gawking. “I never would have expected to see you here. This is crazy.”

I looked from one to the other, not recognizing any of them.

“We graduated two years ago,” the petite brunette stated when it was evident I didn’t know who they were.

“Oh, hi,” I offered, not coming up with anything better to say.

“How’ve you been?” the girl with black curly hair and full red lips asked.

“Um,” I stumbled, not really believing that they cared, but decided to answer with, “Great, thanks. I’m actually looking for Casey Straus. Have you seen her?”

“No,” she offered apologetically. “We should totally catch up later though, okay?”

“Definitely,” I forced a smile as they waved and walked away. What had I gotten myself into?