Fighting to Breathe(4)
How am I going to make it through this, Daddy? I think, running a finger over the top of the frame, then I go over to the bed and lie down, pulling the quilt from the footboard up over me and closing my eyes laying there awake until my mom comes in two hours later to get me up to go to dinner.
“Can we stop by the liquor store on the way to dinner?” Mom asks from the passenger seat of my car.
“Should you be drinking?” I frown then turn onto the main road—well, really the only road in town.
“What’s it going to do, kill me?” she jokes, making me inhale a sharp breath. “Honey,” she says quietly, and I look at her briefly, wondering how the hell she can be so casual about this. “I’m dying. When it will happen, only the good Lord knows, but it is happening, and there is nothing you or I can do about it. I have made my peace with it, and I want you to do the same.” She reaches over to pat my thigh.
“Make peace with it?” I repeat, shaking my head in disbelief.
“Yes, make peace with it. If you think about it, I’m lucky. I know I’m going to die. I know that sooner rather than later God is going to come take me home, and when he does, I will be ready. I will have had a chance to say goodbye to the people I care about and right any wrongs I’ve caused. I’m lucky, honey.”
“What about me?” I wring my hands on the steering wheel, feeling my chest get tight as I fight back tears.
“I love you, honey. I loved you before you were even a sparkle in my eye, and I will always be with you. I know this isn’t easy for you. I know there are going to be a lot of tears shed, but we’re lucky, honey.”
I press my lips together to keep from saying something I might regret. I’m not lucky; in fact, I’m unlucky to the tenth power. How many people have I lost, how many people do I have to loose before it’s enough.
“Oh look! Sheryl!” She yells, pulling me from my thoughts as she reaches over, pressing the horn on my steering wheel while her other hand shoots across me so she can wave out my window. Looking to where she’s waving my heart begins to beat wildly against my ribcage when I see not Sheryl, but Austin walking into one of the many bars that litter Main Street, only it’s not just Austin—it’s him and a woman with her arm wrapped around the back of his waist as he holds the door open for her.
Even from the distance separating us, my lungs compress at the beauty that is him. The years have been good to him. His hair is still shaggy, only now a little lighter; his face is tan and covered in a beard that makes his crystal blue eyes stand out even more. My eyes travel from his face to his torso, which is covered in a dark green thermal that shows off the muscles of his arms, chest, and tapered waist, then down to his denim-covered thighs. When my gaze sweeps back up, his eyes are on me, and I see them crinkle in confusion then realization that soon turns into anger.
“You missed the liquor store,” my mom complains as I speed up.
“We can stop on the way back through town,” I assure her, willing my heartbeat to calm down.
“Or we can go to the bar on the way home.”
I know I said I would do anything to make my mom happy until I have to let her go, but there is no way in hell I’m going to a bar, not in this town. “I promise I’ll get you alcohol before we go home,” I mutter, pulling up in front of the small, metal trailer with four large picnic tables out front, all painted a checkered red and white. As soon as I put the car in park, I get out and inhale a deep breath. This town is too small, and I was fooling myself thinking I wouldn’t see Austin while I was here. I’m sure the rumor mill has already started. That’s the thing about small towns: everyone knows everyone’s business, and me coming home after so many years is sure to be big news.
“Are you okay, honey?”
I look across the roof of my car at my mom and plaster a fake smile on my face, one I’m hoping I’ve somehow perfected over the last few hours and say, “Just hungry,” before slamming my door and walking around the hood of my car. I take her arm and lead her up to the window, where we order hamburgers then sit outside at one of the picnic tables to eat, and just like I remembered, it’s the best hamburger I’ve ever had. Too bad the whole time I’m eating all I can think about is the look I saw in Austin’s eyes.
Chapter 2
Lea
“Morning, honey,” my mom greets me as I walk into the kitchen.
“Morning.” I walk over to the kitchen table and take a seat then watch in a daze as she turns over bacon in a pan then places eggs on the griddle. “Are you expecting an army?” I ask, watching as she adds pancakes to a large platter that is already overflowing.