Barely Breathing

Evan reached out, prepared to catch me, but I steadied myself again and offered an embarrassed smile. "Still not the best in heels."

"I won't let you fall," Evan promised, taking my hand when I reached the bottom. I smiled, knowing he wouldn't.

"Hello, you," my mother said excitedly as she scrambled up the stairs toward Jonathan. My cue to get my jacket.

Evan helped put it on, and when I turned to say good-bye, my mother had both arms around Jonathan, holding him tightly like he might float away. He stood, watching us, with his arm casually draped over her shoulders.

"Bye," we both offered. I turned and was out the door before they could respond. I heard my mother say, "Have fun," before Evan shut the door.

“That’s one of my favorite things,” Evan said out of nowhere, backing out of the driveway.

“What’s that?” I questioned, my thoughts replaying my mother’s giddy excitement and Jonathan’s ambivalence. I couldn't help but be worried for her. I fought my way back into the car, with Evan.

“Watching you come down the stairs.” Evan rested his hand on mine, thrusting my heart to life in a whirling flutter.

We drove to a restaurant a few towns over along the waterfront. I practically floated in, tethered by the warmth of Evan's hand. We were seated at a corner table overlooking the water. I was beginning to like "normal dates."

"What happened after the game?" Evan asked after we'd placed our drink orders.

"Oh, I left my lights on and my battery was dead. Jill had to jump start my car. I should have called you to tell you I was late, but I was too focused on getting home to get ready. Sorry about that."

"It's not a problem," Evan assured warmly. "I learned a lot about your mother's concert going experiences while I waited." He let out a quick laugh, but I could only nod―not finding her adventurous life all that amusing, especially when it took place after she'd abandoned me.

The server returned with our drinks and we placed our order. The harmonious notes of a quartet swirled through the air, enveloping the hum of conversation. I could've easily been convinced that we were the only two in the restaurant. The candles’ glow softened the angles of Evan's face and reflected in his eyes. He reached over the table and took my hand, giving it a small squeeze that I felt in my chest.

"You know, I don't know that much about the guys in California," I said, after I was able to form sentences again. "Will you tell me about them?"

Evan smiled at the request. "Sure." He paused for a moment then started with, "Well, there's Brent. He's very... easy to get along with. He thinks he's better with the girls than he is, and always wants the best outcome in every situation.

"Ren is the most laid back guy I've ever met. He lives and breathes surfing, and I'm convinced he'd sleep on the beach on top of his board if he could. He would do anything for anyone, doesn't matter if he knows them or not―if he can help out, he will. I'm lucky to know him.

"Then there's TJ," Evan paused with a smirk, deliberating how to describe him. "He’s a lot to take, but he's always entertaining, and some of the things he gets away with make us laugh for days. But he's still a good friend, regardless of how many times we'd like to throw him in the ocean.

"And that leaves Nate. Nate's my best friend. I trust him with... well, everything. I'd trust him with you if we ever needed to." His eyes connected with mine, and a pang shot through my chest, suddenly realizing what he meant. "That's where we were to going to go. Where we should have gone. His family has a summer place in Santa Barbara that they hardly ever go to, even in the summer. The guys basically take it over after school's out. I'm hoping we can spend at least a week there before you need to be on campus for soccer."

"I'd like that," I replied just as the server set the entrees in front of us. "I wish―"

My words were cut off by, “I will not lower my voice.”

We followed the outburst across the room to find a man in a dark suit arguing with the maître d', who was bent over and speaking lowly to him. The woman across from him darted her eyes around the room in embarrassed apology. She handed the server the check and gathered her purse.

“Come, Roger. It’s time to take me home,” she implored. All movement and conversation ceased, to watch the spectacle.

I turned my back to the couple, empathizing with the woman, who looked like she wanted to crawl under the table. "I guess I'll never understand it," I mused under my breath with a shake of my head.

"What's that?" Evan encouraged.

I lifted my eyes, realizing he'd heard me. "Why people drink, I guess. It just seems to make them stupid. They end up saying something they regret or acting like an idiot. I just don't get it."

"Well, there is such a thing as moderation," Evan offered.

I nodded, recalling seeing Evan drink without acting out of control. "Have you ever been drunk?"

Evan laughed. "Yes. I have. And it's not pretty either. I'm sure I've qualified as the idiot a few too many times."

"Really?" I was surprised by his answer. I couldn't even imagine it.

"It doesn't happen very often. I actually haven't been drunk in a while. I don't really like how it makes me feel, especially the next day. Have you ever had a drink?"

I shook my head. I didn't want to recount the sips I'd taken at the parties my mother threw. I was too young to know better, so as far as I was concerned, they didn't count. "Don't think I ever will. Besides I have no desire to have my face splattered across Facebook doing something humiliating. I already get too much attention.”

Evan let out a short laugh.

“What do you want to do on Sunday?” I asked, changing the subject.

“Want to go hiking?” he offered. “It’s not supposed to be cold, and it’s better to go now while there’s still snow, before it gets muddy.”

“Sure,” I responded. Fresh air and the calm of the woods were the perfect escape from everything and everyone in Weslyn. I just needed to survive the next night’s basketball game, alongside my mother, before I could get there. “I'd like that.”

When we returned to Evan’s car after dinner, I offered, "Do you want to go back to my house to watch a movie? I'm pretty sure my mother and Jonathan will be out."

"That sounds perfect," Evan replied.

We stopped at a movie rental machine on our way, and arrived to a dark house as I'd anticipated. Not bothering to change, I just took off my shoes and settled in under Evan's arm. We kept the lights off. The action movie cast a flickering light in the dark room.

Halfway through, we heard a car door shut in the driveway. I glanced at Evan in surprise. "They're back early."

That's when we heard the yelling. I tensed at the sound of my mother's elevated voice, not wanting Evan to see her like this. I could hear Jonathan calling after her.

She rushed through the door. "Then explain it. Go ahead, I want to hear it." She held something in her hand. Evan pulled me closer as my entire body went rigid. "How the fuck did her sweater get in your truck?"

Jonathan stepped in and looked from my mother to us sitting on the couch. That's when it hit me. She was holding the sweater I was certain I'd left at Drew's. "I thought it was yours," he offered lowly, shifting his eyes between me and my mother.

My mother turned toward us, realizing we were watching the entire scene. Her jaw was tight and her eyes enlarged, symptomatic of a full-out fit. I had a split second to evaluate her. If she was drunk, everything was about to explode.

She shook the green sweater at me. "I thought you said you left it at your fucking ex-boyfriend's." It wasn't a question. It was an accusation.

I couldn't move. I had no idea what to say. I could feel Evan looking at me, waiting for me to answer. Jonathan kept his eyes on me as well, attempting to silently apologize. I was still trying to make sense of what was happening, and how he could possibly have my sweater.

"I know there's something going on," my mother glared at us accusingly. "I'm not stupid." When we could only stare at her speechlessly, she screamed, "You can all go to hell!” stomping up the stairs and slamming her door so hard I wouldn't doubt it cracked.

"I'm really sorry," Jonathan offered. "We had... we had a bad night, so she's not thinking clearly."

My chest caved. He told her. He had to have told her he was leaving, and that was why she was so upset. It didn't explain the sweater, but it explained enough. Jonathan disappeared into the kitchen.

"Do you want to go?" Evan asked in my ear. I nodded. We stood and I slipped on my shoes while Evan retrieved our jackets. He held my hand as we walked out the front door.

My chest hurt, and I was having a hard time forming thoughts. As we neared his car, I started to worry. I couldn't tell exactly how drunk my mother was in her tirade, but I knew she was hurt. And when she was hurt...

I stopped. "I can't go."

"What do you mean?" Evan was completely confounded.

"I have to stay," I told him with a grimace. "She's upset, and I need to be here for her."

"She needs to calm down," Evan explained, not following my logic.

"Yeah, you're right. But I need to be here for her when she does."

Evan studied me for a moment. "I don't really know what just went on in there, but it wasn't good. Are you sure you don't just want to give them time to sort it out?"

"She needs me," was all I could think, and I couldn't leave knowing she might get worse in my absence.

"I'll stay with you," he said, squeezing my hand.

"No," I countered, causing him to cock his head. "It's complicated. Besides, you don't need to see this. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

Evan didn't say anything. It was obvious he was completely disturbed by the entire scenario, and I knew he didn't want to leave me.

"It'll be fine, I promise," I offered with a faint smile, then attempted to downplay it. "It's a girl thing. She's having boy trouble, so... that's it. She's going to need a girl to talk to, okay?"

Evan took a breath and nodded reluctantly. "Alright. Call me if you need me for anything, okay? Even if it's in the middle of the night and you just need to talk."

I leaned up and kissed him. "I will." I was about to walk away when he pulled me back toward him and kissed me again, gripping me tightly like he was afraid to let me go. "I'll call you, okay?" I whispered, out of breath. He nodded and I walked back toward the house.

I pressed my back against the door when I shut it behind me, staring up at her room in deliberation.

"She's drunk," Jonathan confirmed from the dark of the living room. "She's probably passed out already."

"Great," I grumbled, wanting to slide down to the floor―emotionally drained from my mother's tirade. I pulled off my shoes. "I'm going to bed." I had a thousand questions for him about what had happened tonight, but I was too deflated to talk about it. Whatever happened, it brought out a side in her that was angry and spiteful. A side that made my insides shudder. All I wanted was to shut it out with the blanket pulled up over my head.