Barely Breathing (The Breathing #2)(119)

"What, you don't?" he questioned, peering down at me.

"Oh, sorry," I shook my head, realizing he'd heard me. "Yeah, it's nice out."

"What were you thinking about?" Evan asked, knowing me too well.

I sat up to face him. My head was spinning, and I wasn't sure if I could verbalize what I was still trying to grasp myself, but I thought I'd give it a try. It took me a minute to open my mouth, but he waited patiently, watching my eyes flicker in thought.

"Not to sound too deep, but I've been considering how just one little thing can drastically affect so many different things. Cause and effect. Choices and consequences. Is there a reason behind it, or is it just chance? Randomness. Like one person bumping into another person. They date, have sex, and the next thing you know―a baby's born. Whether that baby was supposed to be or not. Whether they loved each other or not. It happened. But... what if it was never supposed to happen?"

Evan was silent for a moment. "Where is this coming from?"

"I found something out this afternoon, and I'm not sure I'm ready to talk about it just yet."

"Do you want to go for a walk as we contemplate the meaning of life? Or we don't have to talk at all. We can just walk. But I have to insist on holding your hand, that's not an option."

"Okay," I answered, trying to smile so I wouldn't come across as so depressingly serious. "I'd like it if you held my hand too."

Evan led me around the back of the house, and we followed the cut section of the field that was his backyard toward the woods. We walked in silence for a while, letting the birds and the rustling of the breeze through the evergreens be the only sound. But my mind was not quiet, and it refused to remain calm.

"Will you do something with me?" I asked, mesmerized by our feet as they moved in unison.

"Uh... sure," he responded hesitantly.

"Let's consider what if. But don't read too much into it; it's just hypothetical."

"I can do what if," Evan agreed, taking my request seriously.

"What if... what if I didn't exist," I presented. "As in, I was never born."

"Em," Evan stopped me, pulling his brows together.

"It's hypothetical, remember? I'm not suicidal or anything, I promise," I assured him in a rush.

"Okay, fine," he conceded with a breath. "What if you never existed? I think you've already considered this, so why don't you tell me."

"If I never existed, then my father would still be alive." I kept my eyes on the ground, because just saying that one statement out loud sent a shiver through my body and made my eyes tear up.

"If I never existed, then Leyla and Jack would have both of their parents." I struggled to keep my voice even.

"If I never existed, then my mother might actually be happy."

Evan stopped. We had reached the end of the path right before it opened up into the meadow.

"And what about me?" he asked, his eyes steady and focused, trying to read my thoughts.

"Well, you and your father would be talking," I answered with false playfulness, trying to return it to the hypothetical game that I'd initially presented.

Evan chuckled. "That is probably unlikely. We'd find some reason to argue... or not talk."



       
         
       
        

We were quiet as we walked through the meadow. It was starting to transition into the spring green that made it breathtaking. The brook was thick, brimming from the recent rain. It rushed with force over the stones.

Evan sat down and I nestled next to him, facing the water.

"My turn?" Evan requested. "I'd like to challenge your what ifs."

"Go for it."

"You don't know what would have happened to your father if he was still alive. I have a feeling he wouldn't be half as happy as he was when he was with you. I saw the way he looked in that picture you have on your dresser; his whole face was completely alive just looking at you. You made him happy, and I would hate to be the one to take that away from him, even if he couldn't have it forever." I smiled affectionately with my eyes glistening and leaned my head against Evan's shoulder as he held my hand.

"And unfortunately for Leyla and Jack, Carol would still be the same whether you were there or not. You certainly didn't make her the way she is, and I can't talk about her more than that." I glanced up and noticed his neck was strained just thinking about her. I squeezed his hand in understanding.

"As far as your mother's concerned, I'm not sure I understand enough about her misery to be able to rebut your what if. If you mean that your father would still be alive, and that would be what made her happy―perhaps. But she's harboring a lot more than just sadness. That was evident the night of her birthday. As I said, I don't understand what's wrong with her, but I'm very doubtful that it has anything to do with you." I didn't have the strength to convince him otherwise―but I knew I was critical to her misery.