Out of Breath (Exposed Series Book 2) Page 9

  She nodded.

  “Plus, it’s dangerous.”

  “I know.”

  “If you really want to impress people, be the kind of woman that can look out for herself.”

  “I was trying to be that kind of person. I just thought I could handle more than I could.”

  “I know.” I wasn’t so naïve I thought that she wouldn’t test her limits again, but it seemed like a necessary waste of breath. “But next time just call. Even if you’re off your face, okay?”

  “Okay.” She pursed her lips. “I’m sorry.”

  I shrugged. “Don’t do it again, and we’ll forget it ever happened.”

  Her eyes smiled. “Thanks.”

  “So what happened with this guy you like?”

  “He stayed with me.” She crossed her legs. “He was there when I woke up this morning.”

  “Sounds like a nice guy.”

  “He is.”

  “Are you sleeping with him?”

  Her cheeks turned pink. “No.”

  “But you’re thinking about it?”

  She looked at me blankly.

  I sighed. “Well, if you’re thinking about it, you can be sure he’s thinking about it.”

  She tried not to smile. “Maybe.”

  “Of course he is. You’re a beautiful girl, Kate. Inside and out.”

  She looked at me.

  “So don’t share yourself with just anyone.”

  “I know,” she said.

  But I wished she’d said “I won’t.”

  Chapter 17: Kate

  I saw my Mom through the Panera window before she saw me.

  She looked nervous. Granted, she hadn’t seen me in a few weeks, but it made me sad to see her looking so forlorn. It was only when we made eye contact that I remembered I wasn’t looking at a stranger, and I was relieved to see her face light up when she saw me.

  “Hi Mom,” I said, lifting my hand in a low wave.

  “Hi honey!” She stood out of the booth to give me a hug which she held for a moment too long. Then she squeezed the top of my arms and held me out to get a good look at me. “You look great.”

  “Thanks,” I answered, wiggling out of her grip.

  I know she was trying to be nice and I appreciated that. I did. But what I didn’t know was why she felt the need to look at me with such scrutiny and comment on my appearance in the first place. Could she just not help herself? I mean, did she really not get that my appearance was a major source of anxiety for me? I swear, sometimes I was convinced she was the one that needed counseling.

  “Is Panera okay?” she asked in a stressful tone I hadn’t missed. “We could go somewhere else if you’d rather, I just-”

  “It’s fine. There are lots of things I like here.” Healthy things that tasted good and wouldn’t set me off, things it wouldn’t be weird to eat in front of her while she tracked my every bite like I was a newborn baby.

  We ordered matching soup and salad combos. She made me order first. I don’t know who she was trying to put at ease by getting the same thing, but she was so tense it made me want to eat every pastry in the bakery section.

  “So,” she said, tearing into her multigrain roll back at the booth.

  “So?” I took a sip of my iced tea.

  “How are things going with Dawn?”

  “Fine.” I didn’t want to say, great, I’m much happier with her than I’ve ever been with you because I knew that would be like punching her in the stomach. “She’s nice.”

  “Good.” She stirred her black bean soup with her spoon. “She said you’ve been getting yourself to and from school okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you haven’t been giving her too hard a time I hope?”

  “I don’t think so. I mean, I know I’m a guest at her place so I’ve tried to be respectful.”

  “Good.” She looked down at her soup. “Good.”

  “Did she tell you otherwise?”

  “No. She said you’ve been a joy. I think ‘delight’ was the word she used.”

  “And what? You don’t believe her.”

  “Of course I do. I know how charming you can be.”

  I could hear the hurt in her voice, the unsaid words; how charming you can be with other people.

  “And are you doing better with the- um…” She nodded towards my meal, looked around, and lowered her voice. “The eating thing?”

  “Yeah. Dawn’s been helping me a lot.”

  “So you haven’t been…”

  “No.”

  She straightened in her seat like I’d just removed a cross from her back. “Good, honey. I’m so glad to hear that.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Dawn’s great. She really knows how to help me.” I wanted it to hurt a little. I wanted her to feel inadequate. “I don’t know why she’s taking a break from her practice when she’s such a natural at counseling people.”

  My Mom stopped chewing. “What do you mean you don’t know why?”

  “Well she told me she was tired and needed a break, but I kind of got the sense that maybe there’s more to it than that.” I stabbed some lettuce with my fork. “I mean, sometimes I feel guilty that she’s spending so much time helping me instead of other people.”

  “Well you shouldn’t,” my Mom said. “She doesn’t.”

  “She doesn’t what?”

  “Feel guilty about the time she’s spending with you.”

  “Oh… Well that’s good.”

  My Mom furrowed her brow, causing the two little lines she hated between them to deepen.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Do you think you want to come home anytime soon?”

  I looked back and forth between her eyes. I could see the strain it caused her to act casual.

  “You miss me already, do you?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Well, thanks, Mom. I miss you, too.” I swallowed. “But I think I need more time to get better. I don’t think I’m well enough to move back home yet.” After all, away from home- away from my triggers- I was making progress. But the truth was, even thinking about being home again filled me with anxiety.

  “I understand.” She said it more like she was trying to convince herself than me. “Well, at least we’ll get to spend some time together soon. I’ve been talking to your Father about when I can take you on some campus visits.”

  “Oh?”

  “You do want to look at some campuses before you decide, right?” she asked. “You can tell a lot about a place from visiting.”

  “Yeah, of course. That would be great if we could do that… if it’s not too much trouble.”

  “Not at all,” she said. “I think it’s important. You can’t tell anything from the brochures.”

  “No kidding.” Every brochure featured the same cheesy pictures of students. They were always perfectly posed in action or ethnic diversity as if the colleges were all using the same stock photo site.

  “So maybe you could start making a list of where you think you’d like to visit so we don’t leave it to the last minute.”

  “Okay. I will.” My chest swelled with anticipation. Freedom was on the horizon. “Maybe Dawn can come, too.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “We’ll we could at least ask her.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Why not?”

  “She might not have the energy for that sort of thing.”

  “The energy? What are you talking about? Why do you hate her so much? I don’t unders-”

  “I don’t hate her.”

  “You do hate her! You always have!”

  “Kate.” Her voice was stern and serious. I hadn’t heard such a scary tone in weeks.

  “What?”

  “I don’t hate her. She’s my sister.” The whites of her eyes grew. “But she hasn’t been feeling well lately and-”

  “What are you talking about? She’s fine.”

  “No she’s not. She’
s sick.”

  I threw my hands in the air. “She’s not sick.”

  “Yes she is. That’s why she stopped working.”

  I knew Dawn had a nasty smoker’s cough, but she seemed fine otherwise. “What do you mean? What’s wrong with her?”

  “I think you should ask her,” she said. “It’s really not my place.”

  “Just tell me what the fuck-”

  “Kate!”

  “If it’s so serious, why hasn’t she told me herself?”

  “I don’t know.” She looked down into her lap. “I’m as surprised as you are that she hasn’t.”

  “Are you sure? Maybe you’re wrong.”

  “I wish I were.” She stacked her bowl on her plate and wiped her mouth with her napkin. “But she’s just putting on a brave face.”

  I felt desperate and betrayed. “Brave? You’re so dramatic. You’re acting like she’s gonna die or something.”

  After that my Mom didn’t say anything. But she didn’t have to.

  Chapter 18: Dawn

  I used to hope I would die before my friends. I guess that’s why they say be careful what you wish for.

  Then again, if things had worked out with Scott, I would’ve wanted to be the last to go. I wouldn’t have wanted to miss a day with him. Even now when I think of how he made me laugh, the nostalgia is so painful it makes my heart ache.

  He used to make me laugh so hard it gave me cramps. I would beg him to stop when I would catch my breath between giggles, but he wouldn’t. He would just keep doing the voice or the impression or the silly dance that had set me off.

  And he was smart. Which made me feel smart. Before we got together I could hold my own with just about anybody. But something about being with him made me feel cleverer than anything else ever had.

  Healthy self-esteem is one thing, but being loved by someone who is funnier, smarter, and better looking than you is the best drug on Earth.

  It’s ridiculous to admit how happy I was to wake up beside him every day for three years. Honestly, I was so excited every morning when I saw his face crushed against his pillow, I could’ve fist pumped. I wouldn’t trade those years for anything.

  Not that I could if I wanted to. That time with him is too deep under my skin, too much a part of me.

  As far as what became of Scott, I heard he became a newsreader in Texas. Which wasn’t too surprising because they say everything is bigger there, and he was larger than life. He wasn’t a journalist when I knew him, though. So he must’ve slept with the right person or gone back to school after his drug monster years like I had.

  I didn’t know if he was married or if he had kids. I was afraid finding out the truth would only hurt me. Plus, I liked my version of events better. That he was in a loveless relationship with his disposable, buck toothed secretary and cried big hiccupping tears of regret that soaked his pillow every night as he fell asleep looking at my picture.

  Of course, I knew it was much more likely that he had moved on. Like I had. Sort of.

  I just wish I could’ve had some closure. I wanted to look back and be happy with what we had, but I couldn’t help but feel that our story had been cut short.

  The damage was done as soon as he suggested I get an abortion. That’s when he really broke my heart. I knew neither of us was crazy about the idea of having kids, but I didn’t think it was a deal breaker.

  I was wrong.

  When he left, I was so depressed it was scary. All I wanted to do was go on a massive bender so I could get fucked up and recognize myself again. Which is when I knew that I had no business trying to raise a kid. After all, the most stable relationship in my life at that point was the one I had with my drug dealer.

  So I did the best I could at the time, and I was a perfect mother for nine months. And then I let myself off the hook.

  Chapter 19: Kate

  When I got back to Dawn’s apartment, she had her feet up on the coffee table and was typing away on her laptop as usual.

  “Hi Kate.” She closed her laptop and looked at me. “How was lunch?”

  “Good,” I said. “Lunch was good.”

  “Where’d you go?”

  “Panera.”

  “Yum.”

  “I should’ve offered to bring you something.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I don’t have much of an appetite today.” She leaned forward and set her computer on the coffee table. “How’s Carol? I bet it was nice to see her.”

  “It was. She’s fine.” I sat on the arm of the couch. “Better than you anyway from what I gather.”

  Dawn pulled her feet onto the couch and tucked them underneath her body. “Sorry?”

  “Are you sick?”

  I watched her chest sink as she exhaled. “I am, yeah.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I slid off the arm of the couch and plopped down on the cushion beside her.

  “Because you have enough to worry about.”

  I thought Dawn was different. But she wasn’t. She was like every other adult in my life, hiding things from me and deciding what I could and couldn’t handle. “I thought we were being open and honest with each other? I thought this was a two way street?”

  “I’m sorry, Kate. I’ve hardly told anyone.”

  “But you could’ve told me.”

  “I know.” She nodded. “And I should’ve.”

  “So why didn’t you?”

  Dawn shrugged and turned towards me. “I guess I didn’t want to be treated differently. Just because I’m sick.”

  “Well that I can understand.”

  “Plus I’m in denial half the time.”

  I swallowed. “What’s wrong with you exactly?”

  Dawn furrowed her brow. “Carol didn’t say?”

  “She said it was your thing to tell,” I said, “but she seemed surprised you hadn’t told me.”

  She took a deep breath. “I have Lung Cancer.”

  I stared at her.

  “It’s inoperable.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means I’m dying, and there’s nothing I can do about it.” She leaned back against the pillows and hugged her knees to her chest.

  “How long do you have?”

  “Probably a few weeks if I’m lucky.”

  “If you’re lucky!” I jumped in my seat. “And you didn’t think I should know?!”

  “You have your own stuff.”

  “But you’re dying! That’s way more serious than my stuff!”

  “Depends on who you ask.”

  “No it doesn’t.”

  “Look at it this way. There’s only hope for one of us.”

  I felt a lump in my throat and tried to swallow it, but I couldn’t. “But if I’d known I could’ve tried to help.” I looked down into my lap.

  Dawn shook her head. “It can’t be helped. It is what it is.”

  I felt sick. How could Dawn put the fact that she was dying on the back burner to deal with my pathetic need to throw up? It seemed so stupid.

  And then I started to laugh. Really hard. And I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t even look at her. I was losing it so bad I could barely breathe.

  “Are you okay?” She reached out and put a hand on my shoulder.

  I was delirious with amusement. “So you’re telling me this whole time- ever since I got here- you’ve been worrying about my problems and how to help me get better when you’re actually dying?!”

  She pulled her hand back and cocked her head.

  I was so mortified at my own selfishness that tears began pooling in my eyes. “You’re telling me you’d rather talk to me about masturbation and potty training toddlers than about your being sick and-”

  “Yes.” She smiled but her eyes were sad. “That’s exactly right.”

  And that’s when I stopped laughing. Because it finally made sense. My problems and I were a distraction. That was why she thought I was a delight.

  “Are you sure about this?” I asked. “Like you’ve
gotten a second opinion?”

  Then it was her turn to laugh. “Yes,” she said. “And unfortunately my doctor and my fortune teller agree that I don’t have much time.”

  Jesus. “But are you okay? I mean, I didn’t even know.”

  “I’m okay,” she said. “Though I’d be better if I could go back to being eighteen and quit smoking before it was too late.”

  I nodded. “Point taken.”

  “But otherwise, I’m just a little tired, and my appetite isn’t what it used to be. And I’m heavily medicated most of the time.”

  “So you’re not really okay at all?”

  “No. I guess not.”

  “You should’ve told me.”

  “I knew I’d have to tell you eventually. It’s not like I was never going to. I just didn’t want to spoil anything. I wanted you to have a chance to get to know the real me instead of sick me.”

  I nodded.

  “That’s all.”

  “Well I’m going to try to be more attentive from now on. Less self-centered.”

  “Don’t worry about it. That’s how you’re supposed to be at your age.” She pushed a wisp of hair out of her eyes. “I’m not sure I ever grew out of it. And you’ve already done me a big favor by letting me worry about someone besides myself for a change.”

  “No. That’s not right. You shouldn’t have to take care of me.”

  “I know that. You’re old enough to take care of yourself. I’m just here to help if you need me.”

  “We can take care of each other from now on.”

  Dawn’s mouth formed a straight line.

  “I’m not asking you. I’m telling you. I can take care of you, too. Anything you need.”

  She smiled and the shallow wrinkles around her eyes deepened. “You really want to help me?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. I really do.”

  “Will you fold the towels in the dryer?”

  “The towels?”

  “Yeah. I’m just a little tired today.”

  “Is there anything else I can do?”

  “No. Just the towels. If you don’t mind.”