Breathe, Annie, Breathe (14 page)

He wipes the condensation off the rim of his can, his hand shaking as he thinks. “I’m not sure that I have any specific goals or anything. I just know I need to feel a rush.”

“But you’re great at racing, right?” I ask.

A curt nod. “I won my age group at the Marine Corps Marathon last year. Finished in two hours and forty-seven minutes!”

“And that’s not enough?” I exclaim.

“Like, after I finish a race, I mentally feel a sense of accomplishment, but I’m already thinking of another challenge that’s harder or more unique that I can train for and compete in.”

“If I dared you to swim across the English Channel, would you?”

“Sure.” He doesn’t miss a beat.

“Would you walk on hot coals like people on the Discovery Channel?”

Another long sip of beer. “If an expert was here to show me how to do it right and not hurt myself bad, then sure.”

“But why would you want to hurt yourself like that?”

“It’s not about the pain, Annie. It’s about the challenge.” He focuses on my face, and the combination of the sun setting over his shoulder and the serious look on his face makes my vision go spotty. I squint and look at the far banks of Normandy.

“When you put it like that, I feel like I haven’t done anything.”

“Would you stop saying silly things? Hardly anybody has the guts and the strength to do a marathon. And you’re working hard to get what you want.”

It’s nice hearing him say that if you work hard, you can do anything you want. I like knowing I can control my future. All those years ago when I did the Presidential Fitness Test, I never imagined I could run fourteen miles one day. But I did. But there also needs to be some sort of balance, right? I don’t want Jeremiah to take it too far. I could beg him to stop. But then would he be pissed at me like he’s pissed at his mom? Considering we aren’t together or anything, do I even have the right to try to help him?

He goes on, “And how can you say you haven’t done anything? I saw you waiting tables. It’s crazy that you can carry ten drinks on one tray above your head.”

The rest of the evening is pretty laid back. We sit around with my brother and his friends, telling stories, roasting marshmallows, and emptying a cooler of beer. The sweet summer air reminds me of what life used to be like before. Tonight almost feels like that. Well, except for Evan and Alisha giving me weird looks for their own different reasons.

At about midnight, Jeremiah announces he needs to sleep if he’s going to get a workout in tomorrow, so I say good night as well and duck into our tent. I thought it might be awkward sharing a tent with him, but I like being with my friend. It’s nice not being alone. In our side-by-side sleeping bags, Jeremiah looks over at me with a smile. “Good night, Winters.”

“Good night, Jere.”

But neither of us can sleep. He can’t get comfortable on the ground. My stomach still hurts from today’s run, and being in the same tent makes me want to curl around his body and rest my head on his chest. Not to hook up or anything—just to be warm. But I don’t want him to think I’m starting something. His breathing hitches each time I move a muscle.

On top of that, Nick and his friends are still raucously drinking beer and telling raunchy jokes.

Jeremiah checks the time on his phone. 2:00 a.m. “God, are they ever going to shut up?”

“Not likely,” I say. After camping, Nick never rolls home before dinnertime on Sundays.

“I knew I should’ve set this tent up farther away.”

“You mean
I
should’ve set the tent up farther away?”

He grumbles.

“I don’t get it. How can a country boy like you not know how to set up a tent?” I ask.

“My brother and I always wanted one growing up, but we never had the money. My dad’s a teacher and my mom’s a pastor and they had five kids. Things like tents came second to putting food on the table.” Jeremiah starts chuckling.

Not having money doesn’t seem like something to laugh about. “What are you thinking?” I ask.

“When my brother first got together with Kate, he was working at a camp. And he didn’t know how to set up a tent either—this camp had fancy cabins, so when he and Kate would sneak out at night to fool around, he’d just drag this giant parachute out onto the grass and they’d sleep on it.”

“Wait. The big parachute like we used in gym class as kids?”

“That’s the one.” Jeremiah laughs again. “Matt says she found it very romantic…Of course, she found out the truth later on that fall—they went camping and she had to set up the tent because he didn’t know how.”

I grin at that, snuggle deeper inside my sleeping bag, and shut my eyes. This morning’s run exhausted me and I’m begging for sleep to come, but I can’t seem to pass out—I’m too wired thinking about my leg, wondering if it’s really hurt or if I just worked it too hard today. And what the hell is up with my stomach? My body hurts everywhere.

That’s when I hear them talking.

“Who is this guy?” Evan asks. “He didn’t go to our school, right?”

“Nah,” my brother responds. “Jere lives over in Bell Buckle.”

“Are they dating?”

“I don’t think so,” Nick says.

“Is she ever gonna date again?” Alisha asks.

“Did you see that guy’s scars?” Evan asks. “I mean, you can’t possibly let a guy like that hang around your sister.”

Jeremiah tenses up in his sleeping bag next to me, going still as a possum playing dead.

“I think he’s sexy,” Kimberly announces in her
I’ve-had-a-ton-of-beer
voice. “Goooo, Annie!” Great, we’ve moved on to the cheerleader voice.

“Can we find something else to talk about besides my baby sister’s love life?” Nick asks.

“I’m just kind of surprised,” Evan replies. “I mean, I thought I might have a shot.”

“What?” Alisha hisses.

Nick groans. “That better be the beer talking, dude.”

“I like her,” Evan continues.

“Oh God,” I mumble. Jeremiah stays still as a log.

“But I haven’t asked her out because I never saw an opening after Kyle died, and now she shows up with this random guy none of us has ever heard of before?”

“Let’s not talk about Kyle,” Nick says.

“It’s pretty pathetic Annie’s still swooning over him,” Alisha says. “What’s it been? Like, a year?”

I rush to cover my mouth.

“Shut up,” I hear my brother hiss. “Evan, if Alisha can’t keep her mouth shut, take her home.”

Somebody murmurs something I can’t hear.

“I don’t care how late it is,” Nick says. “She shuts her mouth or she goes home.”

Jeremiah sits up straight and jerks the tent zipper down, ready to pounce. I reach out and grab his shoulder, shaking my head, silently telling him it’s not worth it. I’m not messing up Nick’s birthday because some stupid bitch is stupid.

I suck in a deep breath, pulling my lower lip between my teeth. I clamp down on it to feel the pain.

Jeremiah re-zips the tent and looks at me sideways. “I like your brother. But if that girl had said something about Lacey or Jennifer, I would’ve dunked her head in a toilet and given her a swirly. Clearly Nick is more diplomatic than I am.”

I snort into my pillow, wanting to give Alisha a swirly myself. She doesn’t have a fucking clue what it’s like to lose the person you talked to every day for three years.

That’s the hardest part. For everyone else, life goes on. But for me, part of me is stuck in limbo with Kyle…and I kind of want to stay there. I miss him. It’s my fault he died. I suck in another deep breath, hoping it will tide me over for a while. I don’t have the energy to breathe.

“You all right?” Jeremiah murmurs, lying back down next to me.

“No one ever says shit like that to my face,” I whisper. “That they think I’m pathetic. But they have no fucking idea.”

The sound of crickets chirping fills the silence.

My little rant felt good.

Jeremiah folds his hands behind his head and stares at the tent ceiling. “They’re just jealous.”

“What is
that
supposed to mean?” I exclaim.

“You’ve been in love. They’re probably jealous of that. I am…”

“You’ve never been in love?”

“Nope.”

I pause. “But you want to be?”

“Who doesn’t?”

Talk about something you don’t hear guys say very often. “You haven’t met anybody?” I ask, propping myself up on an elbow.

He rolls over onto his side to face me. Then slowly shakes his head. “I’ve dated a lot,” he admits quietly. “And like, sometimes I feel a rush at first, but then it goes away…even when I don’t want the feeling to go away, it does.”

“So you’ve never been close with a girl?”

“What’s your definition of
close
?” he asks with a nervous laugh.

“Like, you keep a spare toothbrush in her dorm room. Or you scratch her back for her.” I groan. “God, I miss the back scratches.”

“Don’t they sell backscratchers so you can scratch your back yourself?”

“It’s not the same,” I pout.

“Is this your way of saying you want me to scratch your back?”

“Would you mind?” I ask hurriedly, flipping over to face away from him. “Top left.”

He chuckles, then gently scratches my left shoulder blade.

“Now go down,” I say. “Now to the right. Now to the left. Go up a little. Now down. To the middle of my back. Right there. Yes. Now up.”

“Yeah, I can see how this is so much more efficient than a backscratcher,” he says sarcastically.

“Go back up and to the left. Yeah, there,” I groan.

“Jesus. This is gonna take all night.”

“Do you have somewhere else to be?”

“Nope.” His fingers go still on my shoulder. “So can I get one of these back scratches next?”

•••

On Monday when I meet Matt at the doctor, his eyes immediately dart to my knee.

“It doesn’t look too swollen,” he says, falling into step beside me as we walk through the parking lot.

“Hello to you too.”

“How do you feel?”

“It doesn’t hurt today.”

He drags a hand through his dirty blond hair. “I’m anxious to see the X-rays.”

“I hope it’s like what Jeremiah said, that I might be overusing it. I don’t think I’ve torn anything or sprained it. It only hurts when I run for a long time.”

Matt glances at my face as he opens the door to the orthopedist’s office. “He told me he went camping with you on Saturday night.”

“It was fun,” I say, and I smile until he gives me a look. “We’re just friends.”

“I know, I know, Jere’s told me that about fifty times.”

How often do he and his brother talk about me? And why? Yeah, we’re attracted to each other, but we really are only friends.

“Just be careful,” Matt adds.

“We’re fine. You should trust your brother more.”

He smiles at me sideways. “You’re right.”

We sit down in a waiting room filled in equal parts with fish tanks and anatomical posters of hips and knees. After I fill out paperwork on a clipboard, the nurse leads me into the X-ray room. I wore shorts today, so I don’t have to bother with a gown. I climb onto the table and answer the questions about whether I could be pregnant. The X-ray technician asks me three times if I’m sure, and I’m tempted to yell that I haven’t had sex since October…since the night I lost Kyle.

“There is absolutely no way I could be pregnant.”

The look on my face makes her back off. Finally. She takes the X-rays, then leads me back to the exam room, where Matt is texting. “Jere says to call him after we’re done here,” Matt says, pocketing his phone.

I take a deep breath. Dealing with that X-ray technician upset me, and I’m worried about my knee. It started hurting a few minutes ago. Or am I just imagining that?

The door opens and the doctor walks in, reading a chart. “Annie Winters? I’m Dr. Sanders.”

“Hi,” I say, shaking his hand. Matt and the doctor nod at each other. Dr. Sanders hangs my X-rays up over the fluorescent light, and Matt stands to study them.

“And you’re having trouble with your left knee?” the doctor asks.

“Yep.”

“I’m not surprised. Your chart says you’re running forty miles a week.”

“That’s right. To train for the Country Music Marathon in October,” I say slowly.

The doctor takes my foot in his hands and pulls it toward his chest, extending my leg. I wince. “What have you been doing to alleviate the pain?”

“Icing it, stretching it, and taking ibuprofen.”

“You’ve been taking ibuprofen?” Matt blurts.

“It’s a good anti-inflammatory,” the doctor says.

Matt stares at my torso. “But sometimes it causes stomach problems.”

What
? I’ve been taking it for months. Could ibuprofen be the reason my stomach is wrecked after every long run?

“Why didn’t you tell me you were taking ibuprofen?” Matt asks.

“I didn’t know it was such a big deal. I mean, you’ve given me Tylenol before. I figured ibuprofen was okay.”

“Tell me everything you swallow from now on, okay? And no more ibuprofen. Hopefully there’s no permanent damage to your stomach lining.”

“Okay,” I whisper, touching my stomach. I’ll stop taking it right away, but if I don’t take an anti-inflammatory, will my knee hurt worse? “Dr. Sanders, what about my knee?”

“I can see the swelling. It’s coming down, but it’ll go back up when you do another long run.”

I suck in a gasp as the doctor keeps talking.

“It’s the way your knee is shaped. Your bones are misaligned, and when you overuse it, the nerves in your kneecap get aggravated. We call it runner’s knee. It’s not meant for long distances.”

“That’s what Matt’s brother said,” I say with a shaky voice. “What can I do?”

“The best thing to do is rest it. Work on your core strength. Maybe run the race next year.”

“I can’t!”

“She can’t,” Matt repeats after me.

“I have to finish this.”

The doctor gives me a long look, then studies my X-ray again. “There are a few things we can try. I’ll get you fitted for a brace that’ll keep your knee from moving from side-to-side. That’ll help the nerves. But you need to keep it pointed straight all the time, understand?”

I nod, internally freaking out. I have enough trouble reminding myself to keep my feet facing forward! And now I have to remember for my knees too?