Breathe, Annie, Breathe (10 page)

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Kate says, pulling me to sit with her on the couch. “Are you in college?”

“I’m starting MTSU in the fall.”

“Do you know what you’re studying?”

“I’m not sure yet actually…Are you in college?” She doesn’t look that much older than me.

“I graduated from Belmont last year. Now I’m working as a graphics designer at a consulting firm, like, designing logos and presentation materials.”

I tell her about how I met Matt and that he’s training me to run a marathon. She’s really easy to talk to and asks lots of nonintrusive questions. She reminds me of her fiancé.

Jennifer clomps back down the steps and sits to my right, drops assorted wedding magazines in my lap, and starts pointing out what she likes.

I tap my fingernail on a cute halter dress. “I think you’d look good in this one, Jenn.”

“I like that one too! By the way, did you know I’m an aunt now? I’m the first person in my class at school to be an aunt.”

“I heard,” I say, smiling. “That’s really cool.”

“Kate, Kate.” Jennifer flips frantically through a magazine. “Show Annie your dress.”

Then a girl a couple years younger than me appears in the basement: another sister, Lacey. After introductions, she squeezes onto the couch with us to look at pictures.

Kate finds her dress in the magazine, and we all oooh and ahhh over it. Jeremiah crutches back down the stairs and discovers us laughing together.

“Jere, is Annie your girlfriend? I sure hope so ’cause if she’s not, Mama’s not gonna feed you anymore,” Jennifer blurts, making Kate and Lacey snigger.

“Munchkin, you’re in big trouble now.” Jeremiah chases her on his crutches, and when he corners her, he lifts her and holds her upside down. She squeals.

And all the girls in the room, including me, blurt at the same time, “Get off that ankle right now, Jeremiah!”

•••

After all the church ladies have cleared out to go—yep, you guessed it—back to church, Jeremiah and I sit together at the picnic table in his backyard, playing checkers at twilight. It turns out his mother is a youth pastor and does Sunday night services, but she only makes him attend on Sunday mornings.

“It doesn’t matter how many times a week I go,” he joked, “I could bathe in an ocean of holy water, and I still couldn’t get the sin off me.”

Hearing that made me feel more comfortable around him; church has never been my thing—I don’t believe in heaven or hell or reincarnation. When this life ends, that’s it. Poof. When I was little, dying and being buried underground scared the crap out of me. Riding in the car late at night especially terrified me because the darkness made me think of death. It got to the point where I didn’t want to sleep with the light out and Mom finally made me admit what I was scared of. Then she said,
“You can’t remember the world before you were born, right?”

“Right,” I agreed.

“When you’re gone, it’ll be like before you were born. Everything’ll be okay, sweetie.”

That made me feel better—at least to the point I could deal with it without shaking, but whenever I think about how I’ll never see Kyle again, this sick feeling rushes under my skin and I wish I could believe in something bigger, but I’m too much of a realist.

I really should have gone home already, but Jeremiah said, “Stay and play checkers with me. I’ll give you some cherry cobbler.”

I like bribes that involve dessert. I scoop a bite into my mouth and push a checker forward.

“Sorry about all the drama today,” he says, jumping one of my white pieces. “It’s pretty standard in the Brown household.”

“I can’t believe I lost at Ping-Pong to a guy on one foot. I better not lose to you at checkers.”

“I reckon we’ll find out.”

“I hope you’re not one of those guys who lets a girl win to make her feel good.”

A smile flashes on his face as he spoons cobbler in his mouth. “Never.”

I jump over his black checker and he retaliates by jumping three of mine in one turn. I lay my head down on the picnic table. “Damn.”

He laughs. “I wish we’d bet on our game now. I could make bank playing you.”

“If we were bowling, I’d totally be beating your ass.”

He smirks. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

We play the game in a nice silence. Crickets chirp. Warm wind rustles the green trees. It baffles me that we’re doing this all backwards: we nearly had sex last month and I’ve already met his family—his dad grinned at me and firmly shook my hand—but I still know next to nothing about him except that he’s addicted to extreme sports. Where does he go to school? What’s his favorite book? Favorite movie? And most importantly, do I even want to know these things? I’m not sure. Things must’ve been pretty bad for his mother to kick him out of the house and his little sister not to see him for an entire year, and like I said, I need white bread, not hot sauce.

But did he feel lost like I do? I haven’t seen Kyle in eight months and it’s like looking into a black hole.

“Your sister told me your mom asked you to move out,” I say.

He nods. “When you were in the bathroom, Kate told me what Jennifer told you. I don’t mind that you know…I mean, my brother told me what’s going on with you.”

I guess it’s only fair. “I don’t mind that you know about me either.”

Our eyes meet for a moment. I briefly wonder what he’s thinking, but then I find out. He jumps me twice, ending the game. He pumps his fist, gives me a wicked smile, and I let out a low groan.

“I should be getting home,” I say, sliding out from the picnic table.

“Stay.” Again, his wicked smile. “Want to play some hide and seek?”

I laugh. “I have to run tomorrow morning ’cause I’m working the night shift.”

“Trying to beat the heat by going early?”

“You got it.”

“Well,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “Maybe I’ll call you sometime?”

“For real this time?” I say with a laugh.

“For real.”

When I drive away from his house with a plate of leftovers Kate wrapped up for me, he waves good-bye with one of his crutches. It’s like a robot arm.

I plan out tomorrow’s running schedule and meals in my head on my way home. I think about which of my running clothes are clean and which are dirty. I have one sports bra that fits really well and one pair of underwear that never ride up. I hope they’re both clean, because I’m running five miles in the morning. My goal is to finish in less than an hour.

But soon I’m out of running-related stuff to obsess about. So I think of Jeremiah. Will he call this time? Do I want him to? At a stoplight, I look over at the empty passenger seat. When it was my turn to drive, Kyle would massage my thigh, kiss my neck at stop signs, and suffer listening to the country music station, just because he knew I loved it.

Spending time with Jeremiah was good—great even, but the risk of caring is too high.

A friend. He can be a friend, but nothing more.

When I pull into my driveway at home, I check my cell and get my answer about whether he’d call. He texted:
You really think you can beat me at bowling? Name time and place.

I knew I was in trouble when he brought his own bowling ball.

Who has their own bowling ball?!

Until tonight, I hadn’t seen Jeremiah in a week and a half. Against my advice, he ran on his injured ankle and managed to come in sixth place overall, which is just crazy, and based on how he’s bowling now, you’d never know he had a sprained ankle. He’s beating me 138 to 72. I guess he and Matt somehow knew it would be okay for him to run.

I step up to the lane and eye the pins. I bring the ball to my chest, step forward to roll, and Jere blurts, “Focus, Annie!”

The ball veers sharply to the right. Gutter ball.

“I can’t believe you distracted me!” I snap, charging over to wait at the ball return.

He holds his palms up. “I never said I played fair.”

After he bowls his second strike of the night, he pumps his fist and I groan.

He doesn’t even look like a bowler. I wore khakis and a polo, because I like to dress the part, but he’s wearing a gray knitted cap and a white T-shirt. Cargo shorts hang off his hips. Slacker.

He took me to an alley where they do “Cosmic Bowling,” which basically means they light the place up with glow in the dark stars and burn incense. Cheesy, yeah, but my inner geek thinks it’s pretty awesome.

We’re on to the seventh frame. I lift my pink swirl ball and charge up to the lane. I hurl the ball as hard as I can and manage to knock down six pins. “Yessss.” Now, to see if I can make the spare.

Waiting for my ball to reappear, I notice the couple to our right. Both seem more interested in their phones than bowling—or each other, for that matter. I hate it when people do that. I glance over at Jeremiah. He’s busy wiping his bowling ball with a cloth like it’s his most prized possession.

My ball pops out of the chute. I take a deep breath before my turn. I’m gonna ace this spare.

“Don’t psych yourself out,” Jeremiah says from behind me.

I whip around and point at him. “Quiet, you!”

He drags fingers across his lips, closing his mouth with an imaginary zipper.

Okay. I get in the zone, aim, and roll the ball down the lane. I clasp my hands together and pray for the other four pins to fall. I knock three down easy, but the fourth rocks back and forth like a bobblehead. I jump up and down trying to knock the pin loose, but it rights itself. “Dammit, dammit, dammit!”

When I turn to face Jeremiah, his hands are folded behind his head and he has a smug smile on his face.

“I’m really starting to hate you,” I say.

“Who, me?”

“I’m a great bowler! I should be winning.”

“But you’re not.”

I flop down in the seat next to him behind the computer. “Why am I playing like crap tonight?”

“I don’t know. It’s just simple physics.”

“Just simple physics? You ass.”

He claps his hands once. “Well, it’s my turn.”

He leaps to his feet. As he’s prepping to bowl, I creep up behind him on tiptoes. He bites his lip, lifts the ball to his chest. And that’s when I charge at him and yell “Bugaboo!”

“Ahh!” he screams, but manages to throw the ball anyway. It sails down the lane and knocks seven pins over.

“Gah!” I exclaim, kneeling to the floor. “Why do you have to be so good at everything?”

He puts out a hand to help me up, pulling me to his chest. “Aren’t you glad we didn’t make a friendly wager on this game?”

That’s when I see them. Kyle’s best friend, Seth, and his girlfriend, Melanie.

They are three lanes down from us. Seth’s ball falls to his side when he sees I’m here with another guy, standing so close I can hear his breathing. Smell his soap.

I rush to step away from Jeremiah, tripping over my bowling shoes, and he gives me a weird look. Seth approaches me, focusing on something over my shoulder. Is he studying Jeremiah?

“How’s it going?” Seth asks.

“Not bad,” I say quietly. “You?”

He nods slowly. “Kyle’s parents told me you’re running a marathon. That’s really cool.”

“Thanks.”

“I kinda wish you’d told me. I would’ve started training to run it with you.”

I slip my hands into my back pockets, not knowing what to do with my hands. When I don’t respond, Seth says, “My mom was thinking about starting a collection for your marathon. Like, asking people to give a dollar for every mile you run and then donate the money to the fire department in Kyle’s name.”

I pinch the top of my nose and sniffle. It’s nice that people believe in me, but what if I don’t finish the race? I don’t want to let them down. Besides, this is something I’m doing for Kyle, not for anybody else. I guess it’s selfish that I want to keep this marathon all to myself. But it’s kind of like the last time I’ll be with Kyle—the last hurrah we never had.

Seth clears his throat. “Well, I guess I’ll see you around. I’ll be there to cheer you on. At the marathon.”

Jeremiah walks up behind me. “Is everything okay here?”

I feel a sudden urge to rush into the bathroom, but I stand up straight. “Seth, this is Jeremiah. Jere, this is Seth. He was best friends…” I can’t get the words out.

“Annie’s boyfriend was my best friend,” Seth says softly.

Sadness flickers in Jeremiah’s eyes as they shake hands. Seth sizes Jeremiah up. What’s he thinking? That Jere is nothing like Kyle? Sure, Kyle was a runner too, but he combed his hair and knew what a belt is. The thought makes me smile to myself.

“I better get going,” Seth says, looking from Jeremiah to me. “See you, Annie.”

As soon as he’s out of earshot, Jeremiah stares me down. “You all right?”

“Fine.” My throat feels scratchy.

He glances over at Seth putting on his bowling shoes and lifts a hand as if he’s going to squeeze my shoulder, but suddenly adjusts his knitted hat instead.

“Tell you what,” he says. “Let me finish beating you at bowling, and then I’ll treat you to a Blizzard at Dairy Queen.”

I scowl at him. Then agree to the Blizzard. I do like the kind with Snickers in it.

•••

Jeremiah decides to order a chicken sandwich and a large fry in addition to a Reese’s Blizzard.

“I thought you said you already ate,” I say.

“I had supper, but this is my late-night snack.”

I roll my eyes at his ripped, six-foot-tall frame. “How do you maintain your girlish figure?”

He grins. “You know how it is with running. It’s like I can’t eat enough. I’m always hungry.”

“I know what you mean.”

“My brother says that with my training schedule and working as a pacer, I should eat at least 6,000 calories a day.”

That’s amazing and disgusting at the same time. “Since I started running, I’ve been eating two jars of peanut butter a week.”

He leans in toward me. “I bet I could eat four jars.”

I take a step back. “You don’t have to beat me at everything, you know.”

At my skittishness, he adjusts his knit cap and focuses on the Dairy Queen worker scooping fries into a paper sleeve.

We get our order and sit at a table outside, watching cars drive by on the four-lane. The summer air warms me like a hug. I scoop Snickers Blizzard into my mouth and lick the spoon dry.

“My brother said you just graduated high school?” Jeremiah asks, biting into his chicken sandwich.

“This isn’t fair. You have an inside way to find out stuff about me. I don’t know a lick about you.”

Chewing, he looks up. “What do you want to know?”

“What else do you do besides race?”

“I go to school at MTSU. I play intramural soccer for my fraternity. I like watching TV and reading the newspaper.” He lifts a shoulder, his face turning a bit pink. “That’s about it, I guess.”

“I’m starting MTSU this fall.”

His expression changes when he hears I’ll be going to his school. He finishes chewing a bite, then licks mustard off his thumb. “Do you have any interest in playing intramural soccer? I’ll get you on another team, so I can beat you at that too.” He laughs and stuffs fries in his mouth.

I give him a serious look that shuts him right up.

“What do you study?” I ask.

“Education. I might be a P.E. teacher. My goal in life is never to have a desk job.”

I spoon ice cream onto my tongue. “I don’t want a desk job, either.”

“What do you wanna do?”

“Not sure yet.” I liked helping Jeremiah when he hurt his foot, and I like feeling healthy and being on a schedule. It could be cool to help somebody else the way Matt has helped me. “I’ve sort of been thinking about physical therapy or nursing.”

“I dunno,” Jeremiah says. “I don’t think you’re cut out to be a nurse.”

I gape at him.

“I mean, you couldn’t even diagnose that you had an unborn twin stuck to your foot.”

I throw a french fry at his chest, but it veers off course onto the sidewalk.

He smirks at the fry on the ground. “Clearly I could beat you at darts too…So why’d you pick MTSU?”

“I had to choose a state school. So I could get financial aid, you know?”

He pops a fry in his mouth. “Same here.”

“My mom pushed me my whole life to go to college…she made sure I did my homework and studied for tests.”

“Mine too.” He bites into his chicken sandwich and stares out at the highway. “I just wish she wouldn’t push me all the time now.”

“I wish mine wouldn’t push me either…” We look at each other for a long moment. Then I admit, “My mom had been trying to get me to hang out with friends and go shopping and stuff for months…and she just kept pushing me until I snapped. And I said some stuff—”

Some
stuff
I
regret. I blamed her for my boyfriend’s death.

Jeremiah looks at me expectantly, but I don’t want to tell him any of my big secrets, my shame. “My mom never talks to me about anything real anymore. And I don’t know how to get back to where we were.”

“Have you tried talking to her?” Jeremiah asks through a mouthful of fries.

I shake my head.

He swallows the bite in his mouth. “My mom and I didn’t talk for a long time…she threw a hissy fit after I hurt myself bungee jumping. “

“And now?”

“Things aren’t great, but I know I can go to her anytime I need her. Maybe your mom’s waiting on you.”

Maybe.

My entire life, Mom always told me: “You’re a beautiful girl, Annie, and lots of boys will like you, but never depend on one. You should depend on yourself.”

I knew Kyle loved me. I knew he’d take care of me forever. But I had never forgotten what Mom said. She and my father never married—he left before I could crawl, but I don’t really care that I’ve never known him. Who would want to know a father who walks out on his girlfriend and young kids?

Mom has dated off and on over the years, but never serious enough to settle down. And I think she’s fine with that—Nick and I have always been her focus. She gave me everything, sometimes working two jobs to make enough money to pay for our braces, my summer camps, and Nick’s baseball cleats.

That’s why I said no to Kyle’s proposal—because I want to go to college, to learn to take care of myself.

Jeremiah’s right. I could try reaching out to my mom again. Even though we live paycheck-to-paycheck, clip coupons, and have never flown anywhere on an airplane, she’s never let me down. She always makes it work.

Maybe I can try to make it work too.

•••

I can’t stand the idea of not being able to beat Jeremiah at something.

So I agree to hang out with him after my brunch shift on Sunday. While waiting for him in the Roadhouse parking lot, I sniff my T-shirt. Yup, I smell like onions.

He arrives right on time, wearing running shorts and a wrinkled gray tee. I smile up at his face as he walks up to me, and that’s when I discover the large welt next to his left eye.

“Oh my God,” I say, lifting up on tiptoes to get a better look. Without thinking, I gently push his light brown hair back to check out the greenish lump. The bruise looks a few days old. “What happened?”

“White-water rafting with some of the guys. We crashed.”

I thought he was giving up extreme sports. Does white-water rafting count as one? “How big were the rapids?”

“Only class four. Pretty moderate. That’s why I figured it’d be okay, you know?” He looks embarrassed.

“What did your mom say?”

“She hasn’t seen it…I’ve been staying at my fraternity house until the swelling goes down. I don’t want Jennifer and Lacey to see it and get scared.”

“Jeremiah,” I say quietly. “Please be careful.”

“I’m always careful.”

I don’t buy that at all. I mean, he ran on an injured ankle, and less than two weeks later, he has another injury. Worried, I touch a finger to the scar on his arm.

He leans down, huskily whispering in my ear, “Careful. Last time you touched my scar, we ended up on the banks of the Little Duck.”

I yank my finger away. “This isn’t a good idea.” I pull my keys from my pocket and stalk toward my car, feeling a shiver shoot up my spine.

“Annie! Wait.” He runs to block my driver’s side door, not letting me open it. “I’m an idiot. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or hurt you or anything.”

“Then why did you say that?”

“Because I’m a guy. And sometimes guys say dick things. Because guys think with their d—”

“Jere.” I jingle my keys, inhaling deeply. “Look, I like hanging out with you, but what I need is a friend. That’s all.”

He flexes his hands, looks deep in my eyes. “Will my friend forgive me for saying something stupid?”

I slowly return my keys to my pocket and gesture for him to lead us to his Jeep. “What did you want to do today?”

“Well, it’s Shuffleboard Sunday.”

“Shuffleboard Sunday? Really?” I ask as he opens my door for me.

“I needed a sport that starts with S. To match Sunday, you know?”

I climb up; he shuts the door behind me and jogs to the driver’s side.

“And you could only come up with shuffleboard?”

He throws me a wicked smile. “I figured you’d prefer that to skydiving or Sumo Wrestling Sunday.”

“What is Sumo Wrestling Sunday?”

“We’d dress up in those sumo wrestling suits that would make us look real fat. And then we’d wrestle.”