Out of Breath (Exposed Series Book 2) (10 page)

“I would be very grateful if you could narrow it down,” I said,
trying to imply there might be an extra fiver in it for her. “Tell me if I have
weeks or months.”

She shrugged. “Perhaps both,” she said, “but you won’t make it
till summer.”

“Last summer was my last summer?” I asked, hoping I’d misheard
her.

She nodded.

“What else do you see?”

“I see that you have lived an exciting life, an adventurous one.
You have traveled to many places.”

That was true. And it wasn’t the kind of thing you could say to
just anybody. Or was it?

“And you had many lovers.” She said without judgment. “But only
two true loves.”

I nodded.

“You loved them at the same time and then they were both lost to
you.” She leaned in and pointed at my palm again. “I can see the trauma here on
your heart line.”

I stared at my hand like I’d never seen it before.

“That must have been a difficult time for you.”

“Yes.”

“It is clear on your head line, too.” She pointed at a small
circular crease in the middle of my hand.

Maybe it had been a bad idea coming to see Madame Ursula,
especially if she was just going to tell me things I already knew.

“And there was someone else in your life that you were very
close to until this emotional crisis and then your path’s separated.” She
squinted at my hand. “It was someone you knew for most of your life. Maybe a
sibling?”

“Yes,” I said. “I used to be close to my sister.”

“It is not too late to fix this,” she said, looking at me from
under her fake eyelashes. “Not yet.”

I shook my head. “Sorry, Madame, but I think maybe it is too
late.”

“It is never too late to forgive.”

I shrugged.

“Regret is the result of
reliving
pain. If you relieve
the pain- if you forgive- the regret goes away.”

“I’ll think about it,” I said. Forgiving my sister was one
thing; forgiving myself was another. “What about now?” I asked. “What about the
rest of my life?”

“One of your true loves still needs you.”

I pursed my lips.

“You should write to them.”

“A letter?”

“Yes. So you can choose your words carefully.”

“Are you sure?”

She looked annoyed. “Yes. That way your true love can hear your
words many times.”

“That makes sense.”

“And you should write down your secrets,” she said. “Instead of
taking them with you.”

“My secrets?”

“If you take your heavy pain to the grave with you it will only
weigh down your soul.”

“My soul?”

She nodded like she’d just told me to go buy milk and eggs.

“So that’s what I’m supposed to do before I die?” I asked,
trying to figure out how she saw all that in my palm.

“Yes.”

“But how could I possibly-”

“One word at a time, Dawn.” She turned my hand over and held it
between hers. “One word at a time.”

I swallowed. “And what about my cat?” I asked, since she seemed
to have all the answers.

“Your cat is fine where it is,” she said. “It is the pain in
your heart that needs shifting.”

I paid Madame Ursula her fee and a tip which included the rest
of my pack of cigarettes. I was halfway through the first set of beaded
curtains when she called my name for the last time.

“Dawn?”

“Yeah?” I asked, turning in time to see her slip my smokes in
her pocket.

“By protecting your secrets, you aren’t helping anyone,” she
said, raising a black painted nail towards me. “Least of all yourself.”

I forced a smile and walked out into the fresh air as quickly as
I could. By the time I climbed the stairwell to street level, I was completely
out of breath. I had to lean against the Subway window until I stopped
wheezing.

I was exhausted. And how could I not be? I’d just had
confirmation that I was dying and heavy with regret. Maybe fortune tellers were
only fun if you had your whole life ahead of you and nothing to hide.

But that didn’t change the fact that I knew she was right about
everything. And I should’ve realized it sooner. After all, for the last ten
years I made a living trying to help people deal with their secrets, their
pain, and their regrets.

Now it was my turn.

After a little practice, I got the hang of it. All I had to do
was lie down, take a few deep breaths, and slide my hand between my thighs. I
found circular, counter clockwise motions worked best to get my blood flowing.
And as long as I could clear my mind enough, I could come in just a few
minutes.

In fact, the more I practiced, the better I got at it and the
faster I could come. So I was practicing all the time. Especially before I went
out because it made me feel relaxed and gave me a healthy glow. But I couldn’t
do it too much or my fingers would cramp.

Still, it sure beat binging and purging which is how I used to
keep my hands busy.

In fact, I think all the masturbating was actually helping me
lose weight. Probably only because I was doing it instead of stuffing my face,
but still.

Of course, I didn’t know for sure if I’d really lost weight
because Dawn didn’t have a scale. So I couldn’t weigh myself compulsively like
I used to at home.

But my clothes definitely felt looser since I’d stopped binging.
Probably because my stomach was tightening up now that I wasn’t making it
stretch over huge quantities of food every night. It even looked a little less
gushy.

And my face and neck weren’t swollen and puffy all the time anymore.
They were looking thinner and more defined than I could remember seeing them look
since I’d started sticking my hand down my throat.

I was even eating junk food in moderation without getting fat.
Which I didn’t even think was possible before. I mean, I used to think that
eating a fun size Snickers would make me fatter the next day if I let my body
digest it. But now I knew that I didn’t have to think like that anymore.

Not that I was totally okay yet. I was still thinking about food
obsessively. But I just tried to focus on taking it one day at a time, and I
was getting better. Which meant I had extra time to think about more
interesting things. Like college, and my girlfriends, and whether I’d ever find
out what Kevin was like in bed.

On the way out the door, I stopped to make sure my nose was
sufficiently powdered and my eyes were perfectly lined. I was feeling good so I
wanted to look it, especially since I hadn’t seen Ian out since I panicked when
he went all porno on me.

But it would be easy to resist him now. After all, I was having
far more fulfilling sex with myself than I ever had with him.

We didn’t smoke on the way to the party because none of us had
any weed, so we each shot gunned three beers instead. Though, as usual, half of
Danielle’s beers ended up on the ground in front of her. Regardless, we were
all feeling good and silly by the time we got to the party.

I avoided Ian at first by joining a massive flip cup tournament.
The girls and I played until we were sick of standing. At that point, we went
into the dining room. It was the only room that wasn’t occupied where we could
play a casual game of Circle of Death.

It wasn’t long before I needed an excuse to quit drinking for a
while, but the cards were almost gone, and I didn’t want to be lame.
Fortunately, Ian appeared in the dimly lit room and asked if he could talk to
me for a minute.

I know Annie and Danielle thought I was going to hook up with
him because they didn’t know about what happened last time. I guess he didn’t
tell anyone either. Which makes sense since that would mean divulging that the
sight of him masturbating made me run from the room to avoid a face full of
spunk. Still, I didn’t want things to be weird between us either so I excused
myself to talk to him.

I wanted to avoid going upstairs again, but there was nowhere
else we could talk in private so I agreed. Though I don’t think he expected me
to turn on the light as soon as we went in the room and say “I don’t want to
hook up with you anymore.”

“Why?” he asked, sitting on the edge of the unmade twin bed.

I didn’t want to hurt his feelings or seem like a freak by
saying that I’d rather have sex with myself. “I just think there are other
girls you might be happier with.”

“Like who?”

“I don’t know. Girls who want you to blow your load in their
face.” Oops.

“Jesus, Kate, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

I crossed my arms. “I know it won’t.”

“Oh come on.” He looked sad. “Don’t be like that. I like you.”

“I’m flattered, Ian. Really. And I like you, too. Just not like
that anymore.”

He ran his fingers through his hair and then pulled a can of
beer out of his pocket and held it out to me.

“No thanks.”

He cracked it open.

I watched as foam hissed out the top and wet his fingers.

“I thought we were good together.”

“We were,” I lied. “But it’s over.”

“But we have so much in common.”

“Like what?” I leaned against the bedside table.

He shrugged and closed his eyes for a second like a drunk. “Like
lacrosse.”

“Yeah. And…?”

“You’re being ridiculous,” he said. “What does it matter what we
have in common if we like each other?”

“I don’t like you like that anymore. That’s what I’m trying to
tell you.”

“Can we just hook up as friends then? For fun? It doesn’t have
to be anything serious.”

I laughed out loud. “Like fuck buddies?”

“Yeah.”

I found the idea of having a fuck buddy that couldn’t fuck for
more than three seconds really amusing. “I don’t think so.”

“Is there someone else?”

“Sort of,” I said.

“Is he…?”

“Is he what?”

“Is he… better than me?”

It was weird to see Ian so insecure. “In what way?”

“In bed?” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Is he
bigger
?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. We haven’t…”

“So it’s not too late!”

“Too late?”

“Come on. Give me a chance.”

I shook my head. I’d given him plenty of chances. “Sorry.” I
thought about saying it was fun while it lasted but it seemed patronizing under
the circumstances. So I just went over and gave him a platonic goodbye kiss on
the cheek.

But when I turned for the door he grabbed my wrist. “Don’t be like
this, Kate. You’ll regret this.”

“I don’t think I will.” 

“I won’t take you back.” His slurring wasn’t helping his cause.
“You walk out that door and we’re finished.”

“Let go of my wrist, Ian.”

He dropped his head to the floor but kept his hand wrapped
around my wrist.

“Ian.”

He raised his head. “Let’s at least have break-up sex then.”

“We can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Cause you never asked me out.”

He shook his head and let go of my hand.

I turned and walked out the door, closing it behind me so he
could sulk alone. And as soon as I closed the door, I felt great. I knew that I
would never waste my time, my feelings, or my body on a silly sex-starved school
boy again.

Or at least not that one.

Cause I deserved better.

By that point, I would’ve been happy if could have just come up
with one line to get me started. Or even one word. 

But the stack of blank pages was taunting me, and I was
completely intimidated. The idea of writing my most personal thoughts, the ones
that weighed most heavily on my soul, was paralyzing.

I was just so afraid the truth would look too harsh when it was
written out, black against white. I was afraid if I got straight to the point, it
would be too much too soon.

Even though no matter what I wrote, I knew it would seem like too
little too late.

Regardless, I needed to work my way up to the truth. Or at
least, I needed to cushion it somehow. After all, my secrets deserved to be
presented in context. Because that’s how they were born.

And I was doing a disservice to myself and the person I was
going to offload all that shit on if I didn’t make my unpalatable actions as
easy to swallow as possible. And as clear as possible.