Barely Breathing

She handed one glass over and held up hers with a smirk, "To being talented."

Jared raised his eyebrows in shock and clinked against her glass.

"Hey, I want in on this," Sara insisted, filling another glass to tap with theirs. I tried to keep from having heart failure as I watched my mother quickly drain half of her glass. I realized I had to prepare myself. This was about to happen.

"You okay?" Jonathan asked, passing me as he carried in more folding chairs from the porch and set them around the poker table.

"Not until tomorrow morning," I muttered, deciding to follow him to help set up the chairs.

"Emily, would you put on some music?" my mother hollered from the kitchen, although there was no need to yell since I could hear every word they were saying.

"Sure," I replied. I flipped through the CD collection, not finding anything I would deem party-worthy.

"Here," Jonathan offered, handing me his iPod. "There's a playlist on there for Rachel's party."

"Thanks," I accepted, plugging the iPod into the wire attached to the stereo. I scrolled to the Rachel's Party playlist. My mother hollered in excitement from the kitchen when the first song came on.

"Perfect, Emily," she praised.

I was about to explain that it wasn't my selection, when Jonathan stopped me. "Just let her think it was you."

"Okay," I shrugged, not understanding why it mattered.

About half an hour later, the door opened and six people let themselves in, carrying brown bags filled with alcohol and snacks.

"Is this where the party is?" a guy with a tightly trimmed beard asked peeking in the kitchen. He opened his arms when my mother squealed in excitement and rushed toward him, wrapping her arms around his neck while kissing him on the cheek. "Happy birthday, Rach," he offered, kissing her cheek in return. She hugged each person, directing them to hang up their coats and instructing them to place their beers in the cooler on the porch. She was so excited. I tried to let the worry go and be happy for her. This was her birthday after all.

"We brought the other poker table and chairs," one of the guys announced, popping open a can of beer after returning from the porch.

We had to introduce ourselves since my mother was too pre-occupied pouring margaritas for the two women she'd dragged into the kitchen.

"Wow, Emily," a woman named Sharon noted upon meeting me. "I can't believe how much you've grown up."

"Thanks," I responded, studying the woman who obviously knew me. Her voice was crackly from too many years of smoking, and her face was etched with lines from a life that didn't care for her. She wore her curly black hair long over her shoulders. Her dark eyes were heavily lined in black and layered with mascara.

"You still look just like your dad," she continued.

"Right?" my mother chimed in from behind Sharon, holding out a glass for her to take. "I swear she's not mine." She laughed playfully.

Sharon cackled. "You've been trying to get away with that one for years. But I was the one who drove you to the hospital when you went into labor, remember?"

"I couldn't exactly drive myself," my mother huffed.

"The bottle of wine may have had something to do with that," Sharon added, her laugh turning into a cough. I narrowed my eyes and looked from her to my mother.

"Relax, Emily," my mother chuckled. "She's only joking." I nodded with an awkward smile. Sharon clamped her mouth shut to keep from laughing, causing her to convulse in a coughing fit.

"Can I smoke?" Sharon asked in a rasp, pulling a pack from her pocket.

"Porch," my mother instructed. "I'll come out with you."

My mother and Sharon disappeared out the front door.

Evan finally emerged from the kitchen with several platters of quesadillas. Jared and Jonathan were helping two of the new arrivals move furniture to make room for the additional poker table. Sara and I brought in pitchers of margaritas and set them on the coffee table.

"I know, right?" my mother said to Sharon as they entered from the porch, the smell of cigarettes swirling around them.

"Evan, you can have a beer," my mother insisted. "It's my birthday. Besides, you're staying over, so you don't have to worry about driving." She smiled and handed him a freshly opened bottle.

"Thanks.” He accepted it and placed his hand on my back, probably sensing my uneven breaths. I watched as my mother poured herself another drink. Closing my eyes, I exhaled quickly, trying to remain calm.

"You okay?" Evan bent down to ask in my ear.

I played off my worried expression. "I'm not so sure I know what I'm doing with poker."

"I'll help you," he assured me. "I'll give you a cheat sheet so you know what hand beats what."

"Okay," I replied, trying to appear relaxed. I met Jonathan’s eyes across the room. He looked from my mother to me and shook his head. He was expecting something to happen, and my gut twisted in a knot, knowing it too. I looked away and tried to shake it off.

"Let's play," my mother announced, herding everyone into the living room.

As she drank more and more, my mother played less and less. She finally declared that whatever Jonathan earned would be her winnings. She hopped from table to table, initiating conversation; then she’d jump up to select songs on the iPod and dance around with whomever she could pull away from the game.

And I played poker, or at least tried to. I had no idea what I was doing. I kept glancing at Evan's cheat sheet to decide if my hand was worthy of placing a bet. We had to buy chips, so the betting was real―the birthday girl's insistence. This kept a few of the guys a little too serious, considering it was supposed to be fun.

A few margarita pitchers later, my mother was a giggly mess, sitting on Jonathan's lap with her arms draped around his neck.

"Come on, baby. You need to bet big on this hand," my mother urged, kissing him on the cheek. With that statement, one of the guys folded.

"Thanks, Rachel," Jonathan replied, placing his bet.

"No, you should bet more than that," she garbled, pushing a few more chips in. "We're winning this hand." She stuck her tongue out at Sara and the other guy who hadn't folded. Sara laughed at her, taking a sip of her margarita.

"Sara, I like you," she spontaneously confessed, the affects of the tequila surfacing.

"Thanks, Rachel," Sara replied with a smile. "Happy birthday." She raised her glass for my mother to clumsily tap.

"Come dance with me," my mother insisted, popping up from Jonathan's lap and grabbing Sara's hand.

"But I'm still playing," Sara argued feebly. My mother grabbed her hand and pulled her from her chair, making Sara abandon her cards on the table.

My mother twirled herself under Sara's arm as she held her hand above her head.

I watched from the other table as Jared shuffled the deck.

"You don't say much, huh?" the woman with bleach blond hair noted. I thought her name was Sally, but maybe it was Ally.

"Not really," I replied, keeping my eyes on the cards as Jared placed them on the table in front of me.

"Don't drink either, huh?" she slurred, holding her head up on her hand.

"No, I don't," I answered.

"You used to make us drinks when you were little," she shared, making me pause before picking up my cards. "You were so cute, getting us beers. Rachel always had the best parties."

I studied my cards intently, knowing Evan and Jared were watching me.

"I'll take two cards," I requested, pretending not to be fazed by the glimpse of my previous life living with my mother.

In truth, it was appearing to be not too much different than it was now―except I didn't take sips from the beer cans anymore. Our life was full of emotional waves, even more so when I was young―laughing one minute, crying and screaming the next. There was always music playing, and there seemed to be a constant flow of people in the house. But despite the bodies, I was very much on my own. That's when my focus became school and sports. Despite my mother's lack of interest in my academics, she always made certain I had soccer and basketball―even if she was incapable of driving me to the practices and games herself.

My mother and Sara's laughter drew our attention. My mother bumped into the side table, knocking over a few pictures. Sharon joined them from her post on the porch, trailing the cigarette fumes in with her.

"What do you do, Ally?" Evan intervened, taking a sip from his beer bottle.

"I'm a bartender," she offered, directing her attention toward Evan and lingering a little too long. "Can't believe you're still in high school. And wait..." She looked from me to Evan. "You two are dating, right?"

Evan nodded, before requesting two cards from Jared.

"I miss high school," she sighed, taking a gulp from her glass.

"No you don't," my mother countered, plopping down in the vacant seat next to Ally. "You hated high school."

Ally started laughing. "That's true. But we sure did get away with a lot of shit."

"Definitely," my mother recollected with giggle.

"Do you remember when you convinced Mr. Hall to let you skip that test because you told him you had wicked bad cramps, and then we went into the woods to get high?"

My mother laughed hard in remembrance, causing her eyes to water.

In between hysterics, Ally added, "And the time you gave Emily that Crown and Coke and then we videoed her bumping into the wall for like an hour."

My mother held her stomach as she rolled in laughter. The guy next to Ally chuckled, "I remember that. You were hysterical."

I forced a chuckle, like I remembered it fondly, then folded and made an excuse about needing to go to the bathroom. But when I opened the bathroom door to leave, my mother was waiting to get in.

"Emily!" she declared happily. "Are you having fun?"

"Yeah, it's great," I told her, trying to smile. "Are you having fun?"

"I'm trying," she said passing me to go into the bathroom. "It would be better if he would stop staring at you." And with that, she shut the bathroom door, leaving me outside, stunned. Who was she talking about?

I turned toward the stairs as Jonathan was reaching the top.

"Hey," he greeted. "Are you in line?"

"No," I replied heading toward the stairs, still shocked by what my mother had said before shutting the door.

"What's going on?"

"Uh," I shrugged, completely mystified.

"What?" The door opened behind us and my mother emerged. We both whipped around.

"Aahh," she said, as if she'd caught us. "And there you two are. You know I know. I mean it's so obvious. But can't you wait at least until you're in California? I mean it's my birthday. You don't have to shove it in my face."

"Rachel, what are you talking about?" Jonathan laughed uncomfortably.

"Whatever," she said, dismissing him. "I'm over it."

I continued to gawk at her. "You can't think there's anything going on between us," I insisted.