Out of Breath (Exposed Series Book 2) Page 7

  “But it’s not,” she said. “It never is.”

  “Cause I can always have something another time.”

  “Helpful?”

  “Yeah.”

  She smiled. “I’m glad.”

  “Do you miss it?”

  “Miss what?”

  “Your practice.”

  “Oh.” She stood up and pointed at melting iceberg on the table. “Are you done with this?”

  “Yeah.”

  She walked it over to the garbage can and tipped the ice cream in.

  “You must miss it,” I said when she returned. “You’re good at it. Helping people.”

  “Thanks, Kate. That’s nice of you to say.”

  “Your patients must miss you.”

  “They’re okay. They’re all in good hands with the counselors they’re seeing now.”

  “Why did you decide to take time off, though?” I asked as we headed towards the exit.

  “I was just listening to my body,” she said, looking at me out of the corner of her eye. “It said take a break, Dawn.”

  “When do you think you’ll start practicing again?”

  “I don’t know. Right now I’m just trying to focus on enjoying my time with you.”

  It sounded like bullshit to me. And I wanted to say it was against the rules for her not to tell me the truth when she knew so many of my secrets. I mean, she was the one that made up the honesty rule in the first place.

  But I didn’t want to pry or make her uncomfortable, especially when she had been so patient with me. Plus, whatever was really going on, I figured the truth would come out eventually.

  I just hoped it wasn’t anything too serious.

  Chapter 12: Dawn

  I don’t know what it was about her sign that made me stop. Maybe it was because earlier that day, I’d been feeling disappointed that I wasn’t religious.

  I realized that if I believed in a man in the sky, there would be an obvious spiritual guide for me to go consult on the subject of my imminent death. Unfortunately, by the Church’s standards, I was a habitual sinner. So to repent now “just in case” seemed like it would be an extremely false gesture and a waste of time for both myself and the spiritual guide with whom I would undoubtedly have nothing in common.

  Plus, last I checked, priests couldn’t prescribe anything stronger than prayer and holding out for salvation. So I had to assume I’d be happier sticking with my doctor.

  But Madame Ursula wasn’t a priest. She was a palm reader. And something about the potential for spontaneous human connection and instant gratification appealed to me in that moment.

  So that’s how I ended up past three purple beaded doorways underneath a Subway sandwich shop sitting across from a mole and jewel encrusted woman.

  “What’s your name?” Madame Ursula asked.

  After all the beaded curtains, I expected her to be wearing a turban or have crazy hair, but she looked like any old woman you’d walk by in a grocery store. Except for an abundance of fake gold rings and maroon lipstick that was so dark it was almost black. Which was especially unattractive because it was seeping into the vertical lines around her mouth. I guessed that Madame Ursula must have been a smoker, too.

  “Dawn.”

  “Pretty name.”

  I wished I could say the same.

  “Did you want to have your palm or your tarot cards read today? Or both?” She kept her lips parted when she wasn’t talking as if they might stick together if she closed them.

  “My palm, please.” As a typical nonbeliever, I was skeptical and hopeful at the same time. Though I wasn’t exactly sure what I expected- or what I wanted- her to tell me.

  Madame Ursula nodded, cleared her throat, and put her hands on the circular table between us. She turned my right hand over and pushed the skin around, causing different lines to deepen and grow shallower depending on where she applied pressure.

  Suddenly, her expression fell and she looked up at me. “You’re dying.”

  “Aren’t we all?” I asked, not wanting to make things too easy for her.

  “Yes, of course,” she said. “But most of us have more time than you do. Even me.”

  I swallowed.

  “Your life line.” She dragged her finger along a crease that went down the center of my palm. “It’s cut short.”

  “How long do I have?”

  She shook her head. “That is not for me to say.”

  “Please.” I wanted her to earn her twenty bucks

  “I don’t need to tell you. You know enough.”

  “I would be very grateful if you could narrow it down,” I said, trying to imply there might be an extra fiver in it for her. “Tell me if I have weeks or months.”

  She shrugged. “Perhaps both,” she said, “but you won’t make it till summer.”

  “Last summer was my last summer?” I asked, hoping I’d misheard her.

  She nodded.

  “What else do you see?”

  “I see that you have lived an exciting life, an adventurous one. You have traveled to many places.”

  That was true. And it wasn’t the kind of thing you could say to just anybody. Or was it?

  “And you had many lovers.” She said without judgment. “But only two true loves.”

  I nodded.

  “You loved them at the same time and then they were both lost to you.” She leaned in and pointed at my palm again. “I can see the trauma here on your heart line.”

  I stared at my hand like I’d never seen it before.

  “That must have been a difficult time for you.”

  “Yes.”

  “It is clear on your head line, too.” She pointed at a small circular crease in the middle of my hand.

  Maybe it had been a bad idea coming to see Madame Ursula, especially if she was just going to tell me things I already knew.

  “And there was someone else in your life that you were very close to until this emotional crisis and then your path’s separated.” She squinted at my hand. “It was someone you knew for most of your life. Maybe a sibling?”

  “Yes,” I said. “I used to be close to my sister.”

  “It is not too late to fix this,” she said, looking at me from under her fake eyelashes. “Not yet.”

  I shook my head. “Sorry, Madame, but I think maybe it is too late.”

  “It is never too late to forgive.”

  I shrugged.

  “Regret is the result of reliving pain. If you relieve the pain- if you forgive- the regret goes away.”

  “I’ll think about it,” I said. Forgiving my sister was one thing; forgiving myself was another. “What about now?” I asked. “What about the rest of my life?”

  “One of your true loves still needs you.”

  I pursed my lips.

  “You should write to them.”

  “A letter?”

  “Yes. So you can choose your words carefully.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She looked annoyed. “Yes. That way your true love can hear your words many times.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “And you should write down your secrets,” she said. “Instead of taking them with you.”

  “My secrets?”

  “If you take your heavy pain to the grave with you it will only weigh down your soul.”

  “My soul?”

  She nodded like she’d just told me to go buy milk and eggs.

  “So that’s what I’m supposed to do before I die?” I asked, trying to figure out how she saw all that in my palm.

  “Yes.”

  “But how could I possibly-”

  “One word at a time, Dawn.” She turned my hand over and held it between hers. “One word at a time.”

  I swallowed. “And what about my cat?” I asked, since she seemed to have all the answers.

  “Your cat is fine where it is,” she said. “It is the pain in your heart that needs shifting.”

  I paid Madame Ursula h
er fee and a tip which included the rest of my pack of cigarettes. I was halfway through the first set of beaded curtains when she called my name for the last time.

  “Dawn?”

  “Yeah?” I asked, turning in time to see her slip my smokes in her pocket.

  “By protecting your secrets, you aren’t helping anyone,” she said, raising a black painted nail towards me. “Least of all yourself.”

  I forced a smile and walked out into the fresh air as quickly as I could. By the time I climbed the stairwell to street level, I was completely out of breath. I had to lean against the Subway window until I stopped wheezing.

  I was exhausted. And how could I not be? I’d just had confirmation that I was dying and heavy with regret. Maybe fortune tellers were only fun if you had your whole life ahead of you and nothing to hide.

  But that didn’t change the fact that I knew she was right about everything. And I should’ve realized it sooner. After all, for the last ten years I made a living trying to help people deal with their secrets, their pain, and their regrets.

  Now it was my turn.

  Chapter 13: Kate

  After a little practice, I got the hang of it. All I had to do was lie down, take a few deep breaths, and slide my hand between my thighs. I found circular, counter clockwise motions worked best to get my blood flowing. And as long as I could clear my mind enough, I could come in just a few minutes.

  In fact, the more I practiced, the better I got at it and the faster I could come. So I was practicing all the time. Especially before I went out because it made me feel relaxed and gave me a healthy glow. But I couldn’t do it too much or my fingers would cramp.

  Still, it sure beat binging and purging which is how I used to keep my hands busy.

  In fact, I think all the masturbating was actually helping me lose weight. Probably only because I was doing it instead of stuffing my face, but still.

  Of course, I didn’t know for sure if I’d really lost weight because Dawn didn’t have a scale. So I couldn’t weigh myself compulsively like I used to at home.

  But my clothes definitely felt looser since I’d stopped binging. Probably because my stomach was tightening up now that I wasn’t making it stretch over huge quantities of food every night. It even looked a little less gushy.

  And my face and neck weren’t swollen and puffy all the time anymore. They were looking thinner and more defined than I could remember seeing them look since I’d started sticking my hand down my throat.

  I was even eating junk food in moderation without getting fat. Which I didn’t even think was possible before. I mean, I used to think that eating a fun size Snickers would make me fatter the next day if I let my body digest it. But now I knew that I didn’t have to think like that anymore.

  Not that I was totally okay yet. I was still thinking about food obsessively. But I just tried to focus on taking it one day at a time, and I was getting better. Which meant I had extra time to think about more interesting things. Like college, and my girlfriends, and whether I’d ever find out what Kevin was like in bed.

  On the way out the door, I stopped to make sure my nose was sufficiently powdered and my eyes were perfectly lined. I was feeling good so I wanted to look it, especially since I hadn’t seen Ian out since I panicked when he went all porno on me.

  But it would be easy to resist him now. After all, I was having far more fulfilling sex with myself than I ever had with him.

  We didn’t smoke on the way to the party because none of us had any weed, so we each shot gunned three beers instead. Though, as usual, half of Danielle’s beers ended up on the ground in front of her. Regardless, we were all feeling good and silly by the time we got to the party.

  I avoided Ian at first by joining a massive flip cup tournament. The girls and I played until we were sick of standing. At that point, we went into the dining room. It was the only room that wasn’t occupied where we could play a casual game of Circle of Death.

  It wasn’t long before I needed an excuse to quit drinking for a while, but the cards were almost gone, and I didn’t want to be lame. Fortunately, Ian appeared in the dimly lit room and asked if he could talk to me for a minute.

  I know Annie and Danielle thought I was going to hook up with him because they didn’t know about what happened last time. I guess he didn’t tell anyone either. Which makes sense since that would mean divulging that the sight of him masturbating made me run from the room to avoid a face full of spunk. Still, I didn’t want things to be weird between us either so I excused myself to talk to him.

  I wanted to avoid going upstairs again, but there was nowhere else we could talk in private so I agreed. Though I don’t think he expected me to turn on the light as soon as we went in the room and say “I don’t want to hook up with you anymore.”

  “Why?” he asked, sitting on the edge of the unmade twin bed.

  I didn’t want to hurt his feelings or seem like a freak by saying that I’d rather have sex with myself. “I just think there are other girls you might be happier with.”

  “Like who?”

  “I don’t know. Girls who want you to blow your load in their face.” Oops.

  “Jesus, Kate, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

  I crossed my arms. “I know it won’t.”

  “Oh come on.” He looked sad. “Don’t be like that. I like you.”

  “I’m flattered, Ian. Really. And I like you, too. Just not like that anymore.”

  He ran his fingers through his hair and then pulled a can of beer out of his pocket and held it out to me.

  “No thanks.”

  He cracked it open.

  I watched as foam hissed out the top and wet his fingers.

  “I thought we were good together.”

  “We were,” I lied. “But it’s over.”

  “But we have so much in common.”

  “Like what?” I leaned against the bedside table.

  He shrugged and closed his eyes for a second like a drunk. “Like lacrosse.”

  “Yeah. And…?”

  “You’re being ridiculous,” he said. “What does it matter what we have in common if we like each other?”

  “I don’t like you like that anymore. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”

  “Can we just hook up as friends then? For fun? It doesn’t have to be anything serious.”

  I laughed out loud. “Like fuck buddies?”

  “Yeah.”

  I found the idea of having a fuck buddy that couldn’t fuck for more than three seconds really amusing. “I don’t think so.”

  “Is there someone else?”

  “Sort of,” I said.

  “Is he…?”

  “Is he what?”

  “Is he… better than me?”

  It was weird to see Ian so insecure. “In what way?”

  “In bed?” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Is he bigger?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. We haven’t…”

  “So it’s not too late!”

  “Too late?”

  “Come on. Give me a chance.”

  I shook my head. I’d given him plenty of chances. “Sorry.” I thought about saying it was fun while it lasted but it seemed patronizing under the circumstances. So I just went over and gave him a platonic goodbye kiss on the cheek.

  But when I turned for the door he grabbed my wrist. “Don’t be like this, Kate. You’ll regret this.”

  “I don’t think I will.”

  “I won’t take you back.” His slurring wasn’t helping his cause. “You walk out that door and we’re finished.”

  “Let go of my wrist, Ian.”

  He dropped his head to the floor but kept his hand wrapped around my wrist.

  “Ian.”

  He raised his head. “Let’s at least have break-up sex then.”

  “We can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Cause you never asked me out.”

  He shook his head and let go of my hand.


  I turned and walked out the door, closing it behind me so he could sulk alone. And as soon as I closed the door, I felt great. I knew that I would never waste my time, my feelings, or my body on a silly sex-starved school boy again.

  Or at least not that one.

  Cause I deserved better.

  Chapter 14: Dawn

  By that point, I would’ve been happy if could have just come up with one line to get me started. Or even one word.

  But the stack of blank pages was taunting me, and I was completely intimidated. The idea of writing my most personal thoughts, the ones that weighed most heavily on my soul, was paralyzing.

  I was just so afraid the truth would look too harsh when it was written out, black against white. I was afraid if I got straight to the point, it would be too much too soon.

  Even though no matter what I wrote, I knew it would seem like too little too late.

  Regardless, I needed to work my way up to the truth. Or at least, I needed to cushion it somehow. After all, my secrets deserved to be presented in context. Because that’s how they were born.

  And I was doing a disservice to myself and the person I was going to offload all that shit on if I didn’t make my unpalatable actions as easy to swallow as possible. And as clear as possible.

  My word choice had to be meticulous. I would never have an opportunity to justify what I’d written or further explain myself. And I hated to think my last words might be misinterpreted.

  But I couldn’t keep putting it off. I was getting sicker every day. It was like I had whooping cough all the time.

  And while it was painful and annoying for me, I could only imagine how uncomfortable it must’ve been for other people to see a woman coughing so angrily. It felt like I was trying to cough up the devil. Like I was knee deep in my own grave.

  And I couldn’t risk running out of time. If I didn’t write every last thing I wanted to say, there was a good chance I would destroy everything. After all, I couldn’t leave a bunch of unfinished thoughts around to be analyzed like puzzle pieces. That would just make it look like I was out to cause more trouble than I already had.

  Besides, it had to be complete because that was the whole point. By leaving my truth behind, I could decide what was remembered about me. I could be the one to tie up the loose ends and explain my actions.