Breathe, Annie, Breathe (3 page)

Before Kelsey and I stopped hanging out, we loved collecting cows. A cowbell alarm clock, cow curtains, cow picture frames, cow candles, and even a cow rug decorated my room. I packed the cows away to make room for the teddy bears Kyle won me at the Coffee County Fair and the seashell cedar boxes and wind chimes he bought on our road trip to Myrtle Beach. I packed his stuff away so it couldn’t make me sad, but now my room feels empty.

After I lost him six months ago, Mom started begging me to go shopping with her for new bedroom décor to fill the blank space, to try out her yoga class, to do
anything
really. I knew she meant well, but I didn’t want to do anything.

I snapped at her several times: “If one more person tells me what I need to do…” Being a bitch made me feel better and shittier all at once.

“I don’t know how to help you, Annie. Tell me how to help you,” she cried into her hands.

If she’d invented a special potion to erase memories and mistakes, I would’ve been all ears. But nothing she said could fix what I’d done.

I met Kyle on the first day of ninth grade, when kids from the two middle schools in Williamson County came together at Hundred Oaks for freshman year.

I hated him at first. On day one, we were playing volleyball in gym and he picked me for his team. I served, the ball smashed him in the back of the head, and he fell to the gym floor.

I sprinted to him. “I’m sorry!”

I thought I’d hurt him bad, but I discovered him giggling like a little girl. The rest of the day, he and his friends covered their heads every time I passed them in the hallway.

“It’s the volleyball vixen!” Kyle cried.

Fourteen-year-old me was mortified. So I got revenge. The next day in gym, I served the volleyball and whacked Kyle in the head again.

He invited me to the Back to School dance that Friday.

Before long, we were serious, and my mom wasn’t pleased. “You’re gonna end up pregnant at sixteen just like Willa down the street.” She said that every time she caught us making out. She thought if I stayed with him, I would never get out of Oakdale trailer park. “Never depend on a guy, Annie. You depend on yourself, understand?”

But I loved being with him. We enjoyed curling up together with a bowl of popcorn in front of the TV. Or he’d sit on the couch playing Assassin’s Creed, and I’d lean against his side and dig into the latest mystery I’d picked up at the library. We always felt at home with each other, like we didn’t need anything else.

We dated for over three years, even though we were different people: I did my homework every single night and worked hard as a waitress to make money for college. He lived over in the Royal Trail subdivision, did his homework in the ten minutes between classes, ran the mile in the regional track finals, and wanted to work as a firefighter like his father.

He wanted “forever” to start right after high school. He wanted to marry me.

That’s why we had the big fight.

We were at the place where we shared our first kiss: the drive-in movie theater that showed old movies. It’s still one of the most popular places to go in Franklin. As freshmen, we were too young to drive so we walked there all the time. It became our spot.

When he got older, Kyle worked concessions there on weekends and would sneak me in. That weekend in September, we had just started senior year. We were watching
Forrest
Gump
at the drive-in
,
and during his favorite part, when Forrest decides to run across the country for no apparent reason, Kyle whispered in my ear, “Marry me?”

We were in love, and I didn’t want to lose him, but I couldn’t imagine getting married before going to college. My mom has been working as a cashier at the Quick Pick since before I was born—my dad ran off when I was little—and I wanted more for myself. If Kyle could have had his way, he would’ve moved in and had babies with me the week after we graduated.

“We’ve talked about this,” I replied with a shaky voice. “You know I’m not ready.”

He slowly pulled his hand out of his jeans pocket. Was there a ring in there?

“You’re saying no?” he whispered.

“I can’t. You know I want to—”

“If you wanted to, you’d say yes!”

“Kyle, I want to wait until I’ve gone to college and have a job—”

“I’ll take care of you!”

“That’s not what this is about—”

“Either you love me and want to marry me, or we’re over—”

“How can you put me in that position?” I cried.

He felt so betrayed, so hurt, that he broke up with me.

And I missed him so much, my stomach twisted up and it hurt to breathe. Pizza tasted like broccoli. Music hurt my ears. I didn’t know what to do between classes. Who was I supposed to walk with? My bulletin board had long since morphed from pictures of me and Kelsey playing with our moms’ makeup to me and Kyle snuggling and kissing. Who was I supposed to say good night to before I went to sleep?

At the same time, the breakup really pissed me off. How dare he throw away three years just because I wasn’t ready for marriage? Why couldn’t he respect my dream of going to college, getting a job where I could make money, maybe buying a house one day? I didn’t want to live in a trailer all my life.

Sometimes when I would talk about college, he’d get a sad but happy face. Like a wince when you have an ice cream headache: it hurts so bad, but the taste is so good. Mom said he might’ve proposed because he was desperate to hold on to me—he was scared I’d forget him when I left for college. I hated her saying that. I would’ve kept dating him! Other than working at the Roadhouse, doing my homework, and reading thrillers about hot FBI agents and lady CEOs that partner to solve mysteries, he’d been my whole life for three years. Besides, he dumped me. Why would he do that if he wanted to hang on to me? None of it made any sense.

A month later, he was gone. He never got to run his marathon. I was alone. And for a while, Mom rocked me to sleep every night like when I was a baby, but then she started pushing, wanting me to go out with my brother and his friends. I could barely sleep through an entire night or do my homework, and she wanted me to go shopping with her?

That’s when I blew up.

“He’d still be here if it weren’t for you!” I screamed, even though it wasn’t true. “If you hadn’t pushed me into wanting to go to college, I would’ve said yes to his proposal. It’s all your fault he’s gone!”

The blood left Mom’s face. She slammed her coffee mug into the sink. In all my life, I’d never seen her cry like that, the tears streaming down her face.

My brother rushed into the kitchen, ordered me to get out of the house for a while, and hugged Mom long and hard. When I came home from my walk up to the empty basketball court on Spring Street, passing a bunch of barefooted little girls playing tag, Mom had gone to work, and the relationship we’d had was gone too.

I knew what I’d said was a lie. I wanted college for me just as much as my mother did. I didn’t mean to lash out… And now I don’t know how to get back to what we once had. How could she forgive me? I blamed her for my loss. For something that was completely my fault.

It’s my fault he’s gone…

I cringe at the memories.

I wish I could run from them.

•••

Every Saturday night, I wait tables at Davy Crockett’s Roadhouse.

I work a couple nights during the week and Sunday brunch too, but Saturday is the big date night in Franklin. It’s the night when I make nearly all of my money, which I desperately need for college and gas. I wiped out the $600 I had to buy new tennis shoes, running clothes, and the first two months of training dues. Matt’s program costs $200 per month, which Nick said was outrageous, but considering I get a gym membership and all the Gatorade, energy bars, fruit, and candy I want at the trails on Saturdays, I think it’s worth it. Not to mention I get the support and expertise of a guy who’s run over thirty marathons and is a certified personal trainer. That’s a billion times better than flailing around the school track by myself.

The only negative to Matt’s program? In the gym locker room, old ladies just love walking around naked for some reason. I pray that when I’m old, I don’t have any sudden desire to flaunt it.

I hip-check the vestibule door open and head out onto the restaurant floor, passing rusted road signs and paintings of Davy Crockett in his coonskin cap. My boots crunch peanut shells every step of the way. That’s what makes the Roadhouse so famous—we serve free peanuts by the bucket and guys can throw shells at each other, acting like Neanderthals.

I drop beers and Cokes off at one of my four tops and move on to my round. The table seats seven and I generally make big tips off it on Saturdays.

Tonight, Nick is sitting there with a group of friends and their girlfriends. My brother is barely a year older than me and graduated last year, so I know them all from school.

“This is my best table, so you better leave me a good tip,” I tell Nick, and he responds by throwing a peanut at my forehead. That earns him a prompt slap on the arm from his girlfriend, Kimberly. “And you’re not getting any free food either.”

“You’ll serve us beer though, right?” Evan asks.

“Hell no. I’m not losing my job over you.” I open my notepad and pull a pen from my apron. “What do you want to drink?”

“Beer,” Evan says with a wide grin.

I respond by grabbing a handful of peanuts and dropping them on his head.

“Hey!” Evan shakes them out of his shirt as everyone laughs. Nick has been friends with Evan since elementary school, and now they do oil changes together at the auto parts store. Almost all of Nick’s friends stayed in Franklin and didn’t go to college, and now they work at places like the Buchanan Ford dealership and Total Billiards. Kimberly got a receptionist job at a realty company. Nick takes night classes over at the Motlow community college. Compared with the rest of the kids who grew up in the Oakdale trailer park, I’m pretty different in that I’m moving to college this fall and will be living in the dorms.

I take their drink orders for real this time—a round of waters, Cokes, and sweet teas. In the back, I scoop ice into cups and let out a long breath. Today took a lot out of me—the six-mile run zapped me energy-wise while finding Jeremiah attractive hit me guilt-wise. I’m sure he’s a great running coach and all, considering he blasts down those trails like a bullet, but I don’t know that I want to see him again. I need to concentrate on making it through this marathon. But I also liked feeling a spark of
something
.

“Hey, where are you?”

I glance up to find Stephanie, the manager of the Roadhouse, scanning the floor. That’s when I notice I’ve been pressing the dispenser for so long, ice is tumbling off the counter. I let go of the lever as Stephanie grabs a broom and sweeps the ice over to a drainage grate.

“You okay?”

“I’m good. Just tired,” I lie.

Stephanie gives me her worried-mom look. She learned that expression from my mother—they’ve been friends since middle school. They both work in the retail/hospitality business, so they often get together and bitch about bitchy customers.

“I’m
fine
,” I say again and press the Coke dispenser to fill the glasses, then evenly distribute them on my tray, add lemons to the rims, and carry the drinks out onto the floor.

I serve Nick and his friends burgers and chicken strips as fast as I can, to rush them away from my money-maker table, but of course they end up staying a couple hours and throw at least five buckets of peanuts at each other. When they finally pay the check, they split the bill four ways. So annoying.

Evan gives me a 30 percent tip but won’t meet my eyes when I say thank you. He just pockets his wallet. “You should come out with us after you get off work. We’re camping at Normandy.”

My face flushes hot. After what happened with Kyle, everybody gave me distance for a few months. But once New Year’s rolled around, life went back to
their
normal. Guys knew I was single and started asking me out. Did Kyle even cross their minds when I said no?

Anyway, Evan has been acting weird since February, and I’ve been wondering when this would happen. It must’ve taken him a while to garner the guts, and it makes me feel terrible. He’s a good-looking guy: his brown hair hangs to his eyes and he has great arms, roped with muscles from working in the garage. But I can’t.

“No, but thank you,” I reply. “I need to sleep in a bed tonight—I’m so sore from running.”

Evan looks crestfallen. “Maybe next weekend then?”

I take the damp rag from my apron pocket and start wiping down the round, working to scrub dried, brownish-yellow mustard away. “Maybe.”

But I know I’ll say no. I already have to listen to my brother doing his girlfriend when I’m at home; there’s no way I’m going camping with them—tents have thinner walls than our trailer.

“I guess I’ll see you soon, then,” Evan says in a quiet voice. I can’t look him in the eye.

Nick stops fawning over Kimberly long enough to give me a quick hug. “I’ll be home tomorrow.”

“Thanks.” I lean into the hug. He subtly stuffs more tip money in my apron, and I give him a smile.

I wait tables until midnight. Then it’s time for side work. It’s my turn to scrape gum off the bottoms of tables, which is just about the worst task ever. The worst is refilling all the glass ketchup bottles; a good night is when I don’t drop a bottle on the floor. Next, I roll a hundred sets of silverware for tomorrow’s brunch shift, and then I clock out.

I pull my apron off and search my bag for my keys as I enter the parking lot, and soon I’m tucked in my car. I swipe my cell on, hoping to find messages, even though I don’t really want to deal with anybody. The only text is from Mom, asking me to pull her blue shirt off the clothesline when I get home.
Ok
, I text back, then scroll through my contacts. I always flick past Kyle’s name quicker than anyone else’s. Really, between him and Kelsey, there’s nobody in the Ks that I can talk to anymore. But that’s sort of true for the As, Bs, and Ws too. I drop my phone in my tote and start the ignition. I drive past Sonic, where kids from school are hanging out over Cherry Limeades and onion rings. My heart pangs when I spot Kelsey’s bright blue Mustang convertible.