Barely Breathing (The Breathing #2)(100)

"No," I stressed, confused by his words. "I understand."

"Where are you now? At Sara's?"

"No, I'm back home," I answered quietly.

"You are?" He questioned in surprise. "Why?"

"Umm..." I began, flustered by his disapproval. "Because she's my mother, and I don't think she should have to go through this alone anymore."

"Emma, what she did was horrible. How―" he stopped. I could hear him exhale, as if to calm himself. "I don't understand how you can let it go like it wasn't a big deal."

"I'm not... exactly," I replied weakly. "I just think I understand better now, that's all."

Jonathan was silent for a moment before he added, "I couldn't let her treat you like that. I had to end it. You understand, right?"

"I knew it was coming." I answered. He remained quiet. "I should get going," I finally said when the silence became too uncomfortable.

"Call me," he said in a rush before I could hang up. "If you need anything, even just to say hi, okay? Just call me." His voice was heavy with worry and made me take pause.

"I will," I promised, not truly certain if I would, or should.



When I returned home, my mother was showered and on the couch with a blanket over her lap. She didn't have any makeup on to conceal the lines etched around her mouth and the creases at the corners of her eyes. She looked... worn. Defeated.

She tried to smile when I walked in carrying the movie and two pints of ice cream, but her eyes remained dull and unaffected.

I put the movie in and sat next to her on the couch. We ate our ice cream and watched the movie in silence, until her voice broke the stillness with, "I can be such a bitch, can't I?"

I didn't know what to say. I was actually afraid to look over at her, hoping she wasn't really expecting an answer. So I scraped my spoon along the top of the ice cream and waited.

"I don't know what happens," she finally continued. I glanced over at her out of the corner of my eye. She wasn't looking at me, but staring down at the floor, consumed by her thoughts. "It's when I drink too much. I get... I say things I shouldn't. I'm a terrible person."

"No you're not," I said automatically. She peered up at me, her blue eyes heavy with guilt. My mouth softened into a small smile. "I didn't understand what you were going through. I didn't know."



       
         
       
        

"It takes the edge off," she continued. My brow twitched, uncertain what she meant. "The alcohol," she clarified, "makes the pain bearable. I'm not as strong as you. You can shut it off and block everything out. You were able to do that even as a little girl. You didn't even cry at... at his funeral." Her voice broke.

My mother's eyes welled up and her lower lip quivered. "I miss him." Tears slid down her cheeks, as she gasped, "I miss him so much, and I don't know how not to." Her shoulders slumped forward, giving in to the pain.

I set down my ice cream and scooted closer, putting my arm around her shoulders to comfort her. She collapsed against me, and I gripped her tighter as she cried.

I couldn't exactly say why, but I didn't cry. Maybe I had hurt enough and I just needed to shut everything off―like she said I would. I continued to console her without allowing her sadness to seep in. I couldn't recollect a time we'd ever shared an affectionate embrace. But in that moment, I could barely feel her against me. So detached and outside myself, I was anything but strong.

I remained by her side and ran my hand over her dark hair, soothing her with comforting words, assuring her that it was okay to miss him. That she would be okay.

My mother finally raised her head, wiping the tears from her face. "Thank you." She tried to smile, but it was as if her cheeks were too tired and weak to lift. She took a deep breath and sat up on her own. "Birthdays suck in this house, huh?"

I raised my eyebrows, not knowing how to react.

She followed with, "I think I'm going to bed. I didn't sleep much last night, so I'm exhausted. See you in the morning?"

"Of course," I answered, watching her stand. I continued to look after her as she walked up the stairs to her room. I lay down on the couch and pulled the blanket over me, not ready to sleep yet.



A loud banging caused me to bolt upright with a start. It was silent in the dark. Perhaps I'd imagined it. Then the banging erupted at my door, making me jump. My heart beat in panic.

My room was so black, I couldn't even see the door. I blinked but still couldn't focus on a thing. I remained frozen in my bed.