Barely Breathing (The Breathing #2)(95)

       
         
       
        

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.

"Maybe," she shrugged and trod down the stairs, leaving us staring after her. I took a deep breath and followed her as Jonathan went into the bathroom.

The rest of the night, we didn't even look at each other. Or at least I didn't look at him. I refused to fuel my mother's drunken delusions, and I really didn't want her saying anything in front of Evan.

As the money dwindled, so did the participants. Jared and Sara were the first to leave.

"I think I got a little drunk," Sara laughed in my ear as she clumsily hugged me good-bye.

"It's okay," I told her, patting her awkwardly on the back as Jared waited to help her put her jacket on. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

Not long after, the other poker table and chairs were folded up as one of the car loads decided to head out as well.

"But you can't leave," my mother begged, hugging Ally.

"Happy Birthday, Rach."

My mother walked them out to the porch to see them off.

"Who wants a shot?" she announced upon closing the door. It was a question that wasn't expected to be answered as she lined up the shot glasses on the coffee table, filled them with tequila, and began handing them to everyone, including me.

When she set the gold liquid in front of me, I cringed and glanced across the table at Jonathan.

"To being forever young," she declared, holding her shot glass in the air. "Come on, Evan, pick it up."

Evan raised his shot along with everyone else, slinging it back with a grimace. I didn't touch mine. Jonathan slid it surreptitiously across the table and took it down before sliding it back in front of me.

"Thatta girl, Emily," my mother praised, collecting the glasses.