Heart Breaths (11 page)

“Do you want me to sing with you?” I asked, knowing that there was not much worse of a mood killer than a cranky three-year-old girl. It had been her birthday party, which would inevitably end with someone in tears. But in this case, with the memories threatening to choke me, I would rather it be me than her.

“Okay,” she sniffed and yawned, rubbing her eyes.

“You sure?” Gabe mouthed to me over my head.

I nodded.

“Say goodnight and thank you to everyone who came to your birthday party,” Gabe instructed Noie. “I’m going to come in soon, okay?”

“Goodnight,” Noie said, holding up her arms for me to pick her up.

“Goodnight!”

Walking toward her bedroom, I could hear the sounds of everyone getting up and cleaning up the remains of a very pink birthday party.

Changing her into pajamas, I tucked her into bed. “Lie down with me,” she said, patting the little pillow next to her head.

“I don’t think I’ll fit there, darling,” I said, reaching to flip the nightlight on and the main light off.

“Goodnight, little sunshine, little sunshine of mine,” we sang, her fingers wrapped around mine. Leaning over to kiss her, I started to stand up.

“No, don’t leave yet,” she said, her voice sleepy with a slight edge.

“I’m right here, baby,” I whispered, watching her cuddle with her new baby doll, feeling the ever-present lump return. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Leaning over, I rested my head next to hers, feeling her soft little hand pat my hair while we both drifted off.

Chapter · Twelve

Someone was moving me. Struggling to open my eyes, I could feel the soft rocking motion of being carried. I was in someone’s arms. Sawdust and sunshine.

“Gabe?” I whispered, half asleep.

“Shh,” he shushed, his arms tightening around me. “Go back to sleep.”

I felt myself sinking into a mattress that smelled like sawdust and sunshine.

Half asleep, I felt Noie’s little body curl itself against mine. “Sleep, Mama,” she whispered. “Me and Devi are gonna stay here with you.”

The sun was shining down on me when I finally cracked my eyes open.

Where was I? Snuggling back into the warm covers, I realized I didn’t care where I was. I was surrounded by the comforting smells of man in a bed I could gladly crawl into without ever climbing back out of.

The door opening had me struggling to sit up.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Gabe said, leaning against the doorway, a heck of a lot more dressed than I was.

“What time is it?” I mumbled, rubbing my eyes, still fighting the urge to roll over and go back to sleep.

“Nine-thirty,” he said. “I just dropped off Noie at my mom’s and I’m going to work in around forty-five minutes.”

Yanking the covers closer to my chin, I remembered that even though he was standing there in a suit, I was only wearing a T-shirt. “Just wanted to see if you were awake,” he said. “Feel free to take a shower. I left out some of Sam’s stuff for you if you want. I’m putting up a pot of coffee, if you want any.”

“Thanks,” I said, watching him leave the room.

What was I doing in Gabe’s bed?

Then I remembered last night. The birthday party. Putting Noie to sleep, and falling asleep with her. Did I sleepwalk into his bed last night? I wondered, panicking. I didn’t. He would have said something, wouldn’t he?

Climbing out of bed, I headed for the shower, eager to try to wake myself up. The steam from the water fogged up the mirrors, and I slowly stripped and climbed in.

It was a magical shower. Standing there, I let the water wash over me as I thought about what had happened yesterday. It was Noie’s birthday today, I remembered. She was three now for real.

I smiled absently at the thought. April was a good month to be born in. It was when Devi was born…

A hand grabbed my throat as I realized what day it was. What day yesterday had been.

April 15th.

I couldn’t believe I didn’t remember.

I couldn’t believe that I hadn’t thought about it at all. And with that panicked thought, suddenly, I was reliving the whole day from hell all over again.

I couldn’t breathe.

Crumpling down to the floor of the shower, I started sobbing. Deep, gut-wrenching sobs, every one of them a stab in the heart. Reliving every horrible second of that day. I couldn’t do this. I knew I hadn’t gotten better. I knew I hadn’t been able to run away from it all.

The voices haunted me.

Tormented me.

The screeching sounds of tires. The screams as we turned over and over. The snap of bones. The labored breathing, the whimpers. The feeling of being trapped, and not being able to save anyone. The sirens. So many sirens. They weren’t stopping.

“No!” I screamed, covering my ears, trying to block out the sounds. “No! Ravi! Devi! No!”

The sounds only grew louder. I couldn’t make them stop. I hadn’t been able to stop it. Oh, God, why did it have to happen? What had we done to deserve it? Why did I have to relive it, over and over and over again?

The door splintered as Gabe rushed in. I barely noticed he was there; I was so wrapped up in my misery. Sobbing uncontrollably, I rocked back and forth, the shower water mixing with my tears.

“Maddie, what’s wrong?” he asked me, bending over, not caring about his suit. “What happened?”

It felt like it had been years since I last cried—and all of that was being made up for now. My sobs grew louder, trying to overpower the memories that were threatening to suffocate me.

Shutting the water off with a snap, he knelt in the bathtub in front of me. “Baby, what happened?” he asked, worry still clouding his eyes.

Tears streaming down my cheeks, not giving a damn that I was naked, not caring that it was the wrong thing to say, knowing it would change everything, I looked up at him.

“Hold me,” I whispered.

Reaching down, he scooped me up into his arms, grabbed a towel, and walked toward his bed. “Maddie, what’s wrong?” he asked again, sinking down onto his bed, still holding me.

The tears wouldn’t stop. “I forgot,” I sobbed, burying my face into his neck. Knowing this was a bad idea, and too broken-hearted to care. “I forgot, Gabe.”

“What did you forget?” he asked, stroking my back.

I shook my head, unable to answer. How could I have forgotten? Cuddling closer to him, I let myself cry for the years I missed them. For the overwhelming grief that was threatening to strangle me. For not letting myself grieve before. For all the years of pretending that I was okay.

I wasn’t okay. I wasn’t. I wasn’t.

I don’t know how long we lay there, my sobs soaking his shirt, him rocking me gently. “It’s going to be okay, baby,” he whispered, stroking my wet hair and dropping a kiss on my forehead. “It’s going to be okay.”

Closing my eyes, I felt the tears slow down and a wave of exhaustion washed over me-—the one that so often follows crying your eyes out. “Sorry,” I sniffled into his neck, not wanting to look up.

“Why are you sorry?” he asked, shifting to the side so we were lying next to each other.

“For getting you all wet,” I said.

Then I realized what I said.

And what I was wearing, or lack thereof.

Turning to bury my head in the pillow, I grabbed his covers and tried to slide underneath. “It’s a little late for that,” he said, laughing but helping me tuck myself in. “I already saw.”

My cheeks heated up, and buried my head into the pillow.

“I’m sorry,” I repeated.

Feeling his hand stroke down my back, I turned my head toward him. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, nearly killing me with his compassion.

I took a deep, shuddering breath.

“Not really,” I whispered. “But I probably should.”

Scooting over, he propped himself up on an arm and looked at me.

“I got pregnant at fifteen,” I started, focusing on the patterns of the blanket. “I had been dating Ravi since I was thirteen, and my parents didn’t know. They would have lost it if they found out. I loved him, even though my parents told me that he wasn’t good enough for me. And that was just with them thinking we were only friends. He was. I wasn’t good enough for him. He was seventeen when I got pregnant. A condom broke. We both freaked out when we found out, but it never dawned on either of us to abort the baby until my parents found out.”

I swallowed hard, remembering that day. “I thought my dad was going to kill me. I had never seen him so mad. My mom was pissed. Not just pissed—she was furious, because me getting pregnant at fifteen and the dad is some middle-class Indian kid? I was an embarrassment to her—and she told me that, over and over. That I was an embarrassment and she wished she never had me.”

It still hurt.

“They kicked me out of the house, and Ravi and I moved into a tiny little apartment. We both quit school and took our GEDs, and found jobs. Devi was born seven months later. His family wasn’t really that thrilled either, but once they met Devi… nobody could resist her. We were so happy, Gabe,” I whispered. “The three of us in a tiny little rundown apartment in the middle of Harlem. Ravi was a painter and a songwriter. He worked for a contractor, painting walls. At night, he’d come home and sing Devi to sleep. I started going to college at night, and worked as a cleaning lady, bringing Devi with me, or leaving her at Ravi’s parent’s house.”

A sob caught in my throat. “I had just turned eighteen,” I continued, my fingers twisting into the blankets. “Devi was almost three, and Ravi decided that we should all go out for my birthday. He rented a car, and picked us up to go on a picnic. We never made it.”

Tears were running down my cheeks again. “We were on the highway when a semi came out of nowhere. The driver didn’t see us—he was too drunk to see anything.”

I turned away from Gabe, my shoulders shaking. “The impact was so hard, our car flipped over three times. Ravi died almost instantly… his body wasn’t intact when the car finally stopped rolling. And Devi?” I could barely breathe. “I heard her dying, Gabe. I heard my baby dying, and I couldn’t do anything to help her.”

The panic from that day was choking me. “I was trapped in my seat, and my baby was dying in the back seat. It took them two hours to get me out of the car. Afterwards, I found out that Ravi was planning on proposing. But he never got to. His family blamed me for the accident, and refused to speak to me again.” I took a shuddering breath. “And my family? They paid for rehab, took me back in, and pretended that nothing had ever happened. That I had never had a daughter. That I just went abroad for high school, and now I was back in New York to become a little Miss Society Page, just like my mother. It was three years ago yesterday, Gabe, and I didn’t remember. I didn’t remember the day I killed my baby.”

“You didn’t kill her,” he protested, his voice hoarse.

“I killed her!” I cried, tears streaming down my face. “I should have been sitting in the back with her. She asked me to before we left. I should have sat next to her, I could have saved her. It was all my fault, Gabe. All of it. It should have been me who died, not Ravi. Not my Ravi. Not my baby. Not my baby.”

Reaching over, he gathered me into his arms and let me cry again. “I don’t even know what to say to you,” I heard him whisper. “Sorry isn’t nearly enough after what you went through.”

“That’s all anyone said.” My voice was hoarse from tears. “That’s all they said. Like saying sorry was going to bring them back. Like they were some magic words that would fix anything. They didn’t fix anything, Gabe. They only made it worse.”

I let the tears flow, and held on to him. “There’s a hole inside me now, that no matter what I do, I can’t close it. I didn’t talk for a year after the accident. I couldn’t. It hurt so much, I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t cry.”

Lifting my head and looking at his face lined with concern, and his eyes, filled with understanding, I made a decision. “Make me forget,” I whispered, letting the blanket drop. “Make me forget, Gabe.”

I watched his eyes widen. “Maddie, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” he hedged, trying to keep his eyes on my face.

“It is,” I said. “I need to forget.”

He shook his head, regret etched on his face. “I can’t, Maddie,” he said. “I can’t.”

“It’s because I killed them, isn’t it?” I asked, the pain of rejection so much more painful than it had been with Crawford. “You don’t want to be with me because I killed them. You probably never want to see me again. I don’t blame you. Most of the time, I don’t want to see myself anymore, either.”

“I didn’t say that,” he protested, gently covering me back up with the blanket.

I rolled away from him, huddling in a ball, wondering how it was possible for my heart to hurt more than it already was hurting. “That’s why Crawford left, too,” I said, reliving the other day I had tried my hardest to pretend never happened. “That’s why he left me.”

“Wait—Crawford?”

“I hadn’t dated anyone for two and a half years after,” I started again, knowing that at this point, it didn’t matter. Gabe had said no. After this, I probably would never see him again. Or Noie.

My heart splintered again and I gasped quietly, trying to collect myself. “I met Crawford at one of my dad’s business dinner things. He was nice, I guess. My parents basically shoved me out the door when he asked me out. He’s from a good family, and marrying into his family would have been advantageous for mine.”

“Wait, marrying?” Gabe’s face twisted.

I shrugged. “That’s what’s important to them,” I said, sniffling a little. “Having one of their kids marrying a Dupont was a social coup.”

“But you were what, twenty?”

I nodded.

“And they wanted you to get married,” he repeated, disbelieving.

I nodded, smiling wryly. My childhood was an entirely different existence than life in Eno. Another planet. Sometimes I wondered how they coexisted in the same universe. “My mom has wanted me married since I was eighteen,” I said. “I was tired of her nagging, and I knew it would get her off my back. So I went out with him. And then I went out with him again. And after seeing him pretty consistently for around six months, I walked into my house one day to find him in my bed with my sister.”

I shrugged, trying not to let myself feel how much it had hurt. “Jen said that he told her we had broken up. We hadn’t. Crawford said it was because I was still obsessing over some made-up traumatic event that I would bring up to get sympathy from people, and that he needed to be with someone normal. He said he thought he could ignore that, because of who my family was, but apparently he couldn’t. So he decided that Jen would be a better idea. Same last name. No hallucinations.”