Breathe In Page 11

  My focus returns to the apples. When I pick one up to inspect it, my hands shake. I place the apple back in its place and knock three to the floor. Embarrassed, I scramble to pick them up, worried I’m making a scene. When I finally have the apples stacked, I feel the hot flush of red on my face. I’m not in the mood for this. I just can’t do it today. I set my basket on the floor, abandoning the two other items it holds, and rush outside.

  All the way home, I curse under my breath, lashing out at my own meek stupidity. Why can’t I get my shit together? My hands sweat as I turn off the car and head into my building. My heart stops then restarts when I see a man huddled next to my apartment door. He’s hunched over as if he’s messing with the lock. He jerks upright and spins on his heel as if he knows he’s been caught.

  “Gerald?”

  A nervous grin flits over his features. He bends and picks up a small bouquet of flowers off the dusty floor. “Tessa. Hello. I brought you flowers.”

  He takes a step toward me but I stay put. “Flowers? But what were you doing with my door?”

  He pauses and looks over his shoulder at the door. “Nothing. I was going to knock, then I thought about just leaving, then I considered just leaving the flowers on the floor by the door. I was nervous about coming by, but I’ve been following your story on the news, and been so concerned. What an ordeal you’ve been through. I just had to come by and bring you these. I wanted you to know…well, that I cared.”

  He holds the flowers straight out, waiting for me to accept them. I’m almost afraid to. With hesitation, I close the gap between us and take the flowers. I hold them to my nose and smell them, as expected, though my mind races. I can’t help but wonder what he was doing just before I walked in.

  “They smell lovely. It was nice of you to bring them, Gerald.”

  His grin widens. “I’m glad you like them.”

  Uncomfortable silence permeates the air. “I’d invite you in but, the place is a mess. I’m not really prepared for company. You know?”

  “Oh, of course not. After all you’ve been through, I’m sure having guests is the last thing on your mind. I won’t bother you any further. But do you think, you know, once things settle down, that you might want to have lunch? Or even just a cup of coffee? No strings. Just hang out a little.”

  I suppress a sigh. He just won’t take no for an answer. Does anyone ever listen to anything I say? “Sure, that would be nice. How about I give you a call sometime? We’ll set something up.”

  Brows raise and his eyes light up. “Sounds perfect. So…yeah, just give me a call. No rush.” He skirts around me. We do-si-do, swapping places in the hall. I’m not opening my door until he leaves.

  “Okay then, good night. Enjoy the flowers.”

  I nod, willing him to leave at a faster pace. “Good night. Thanks.”

  I hold my breath as he walks out the door. Then I let it out in a big whoosh and turn to my door. I kneel down and inspect for any signs it’s been tampered with. No new scratches. It looks fine. I roll my eyes. I’m out of my mind with paranoia these days. A crazy person. With a fresh dose of shame and guilt, I enter my unit, with fresh flowers tucked under my arm. I’m going to hide away for the rest of the day. Tomorrow is a new day.

  ***

  “You’re going back to work already?” Terin hovers in the doorway to my bedroom with a dumbfounded look. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  Facing my full-length mirror, I avoid eye contact, and wrap a scarf around my neck. I like the way it matches my gray slacks. Unfortunately, the color doesn’t do much for my sallow skin. At least the bruising is gone now. Oh, well. “I can’t hide in this apartment forever. I’ve been holed up in here for almost a week. It’s time, don’t you think?”

  She gives a noncommittal shrug. “I mean, I guess. It’s just that, you’re…”

  I stare at her through the reflection in the mirror, giving her my full attention. I’m not in the mood for this right now. “I’m what?”

  Her eyes dance in different directions nervously avoiding mine. “I don’t know. You’re just…”

  “I’m just what?”

  She looks at me sideways. “Look, I’m just trying to say you’ve been through a lot and you’re not quite yourself yet.”

  I turn and face her. “Not quite myself? I don’t even know what that means. Who am I, Terin?”

  A lengthy pause fills the charged air between us.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Exactly what I said. Who am I? Because I sure as hell don’t know anymore.”

  She shifts her weight back and forth between her feet as if she’s thinking of fleeing the scene. “Hey, I’m not trying to upset you. All I’m saying is that it’s okay to take some time to regroup before you head back to work. No one is pressuring you to do anything before you’re ready.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not sure if I’ll ever be ready, so I might as well get to it sooner than later. I’m going nuts in this house.” The pitch of my voice rises and I know I should calm down, but I can’t seem to squelch the rising agitation bubbling inside of me. “In fact, I think I’m flat out going nuts. I mean, I can’t eat or sleep. I don’t deal with being around people or in public, but I can’t just hide away in this damn apartment anymore either.” I march past her and down the hall toward the kitchen.

  Terin’s familiar footsteps shuffle just behind me. “Are you still having trouble sleeping?”

  Reaching up into the cupboard I pull down two mugs. “I’ve slept better, that’s for sure.”

  “And by the looks of things, I’m guessing you’re not eating much either.”

  Shoving one cup under the Keurig, I pop a K-cup in and push start before spinning on my heel to face Terin. “What is this? An interrogation? Should I hop on the scale too? No, I’m not eating or sleeping well. I admit it. Given my recent situation, I don’t think it’s all that abnormal, right? What do you want me to do? Just hide from the world? I can’t do that.” I want to do just that.

  She shakes her head and takes a step toward me apologetically. “That’s not what I’m saying at all. You don’t have to be so defensive. Of course it’s normal to have trouble after everything you’ve been through. Shoot, I’d be a freaking mess. All I’m getting at is that the situation is a little above and beyond the norm, so maybe you need a little more time.”

  A flash of anger and embarrassment surges through me but I squash it, because I know she means well. I turn toward the Keurig and switch the empty mug for the freshly brewed one while I collect myself. I’m sure I probably need a lot more than a counselor, but I have no idea where to begin or what I would even say to one. Self-conscious, I tug at the sleeves of my blouse. If Terin’s concerned over a little insomnia and weight loss, it’s a damn good thing she can’t see my arms right now.

  “I don’t need more time. I need to get over it, face my fears, and just say fuck it, right? I just need to get back to work and pretend everything is okay.”

  Terin’s eyes are wide, and when she speaks, she talks slowly, as if she is carefully choosing each word, but her tone is firmer than before. “No, it’s not okay. None of this is okay. That’s my exact point. You shouldn’t be heading to work if you’re struggling so much to get through this. You need help.”

  I point to the center of my chest. “Help? I need help? Are you kidding me right now?” I throw a hand in the air, exacerbated. “What kind of help would you suggest for someone like me? Someone who has always been a pushover. Someone who never stands up for herself. Someone who is kidnapped and then murders her captors with her bare hands as a desperate means of survival. Then when she is free, she’s not really ever free because now she’s a captive of her own fears and delusions. Her own self-punishment. There’s not much that can be done for that girl. She’s an unsalvageable train wreck. The only thing anyone can do for her is to just stand back and stay out of the way so she doesn’t take you down with her.”

  When I pause, only the sound of my he
aving breathing fills the awkward silence between us.

  “Is that how you see yourself?” Terin asks. “A train wreck that everyone should stay away from?”

  Anger spikes within my core. I run both hands through my hair and let out a scream. “Why does everyone ask so many questions? Why doesn’t anyone ever listen to me?” I plop down on a kitchen chair and cover my face, sobbing into my palms with frustration.

  Terin’s soft footsteps approach me and she gently lays a hand on my shoulder. I’m afraid to look up and see the expression on her face. I’ve never lost it so completely in front of anyone before, minus the meltdown in the hospital.

  She kneels down and waits for me. After a few minutes of succumbing to the onslaught of tears, I wipe away the salty streaks and snot and finally look her in the face. She smiles faintly. “I’m listening.”

  Her gentle understanding instigates another wave of tears. This time I reach out and hug her. “I’m sorry. I really am. I’m such a mess and I hate it and don’t know what to do about it. I just have so much fear and anger mixed up inside of me and filling my insides that I feel as if I’m drowning from it. I’m just…I’m just lost. You know?”

  She pulls away from the hug to look me in the eye. “I don’t know, Tess. I really don’t. But I want to be here for you and try my best to understand. You have to believe that.”

  I wipe away the tears and imagine how I must look. I nod. “I know. I do believe that. It’s probably the only thing I do believe. You’re the only one I trust anymore. I’m sorry I lashed out at you like that.”

  “It’s okay. I’m the only one you have to lash out at. And I probably was hovering too much, asking too many questions. You don’t need that right now. You just need support.”

  I sigh, feeling suddenly drained. “You’re probably right. I should see someone. It certainly couldn’t hurt. How about, after work, I call around and make an appointment? Would that make you feel better?”

  “Anything that makes you feel better, will make me feel better.”

  I nod and close my eyes, doubtful that I’ll ever feel better. “Okay. I’ll think about it.”

  ***

  Despite my trepidation about returning to work, the serenity of the library envelopes me with open arms and a welcome calm settles over my being. My boss, Gretta, has been gone all morning. I’m staying away from the front desk and hovering back and forth between the back room and sorting incoming books to their shelving on the floor.

  During my lunch break, Gretta marches into the employee lounge, which essentially consists of a small round table, a mini fridge, and a cart on wheels with random kitchen items stacked haphazardly. She pauses just inside the doorway, looking down her nose at me with a look of surprise rather than her usual distaste. “I didn’t know you’d be here today.”

  Holding a slice of cucumber in mid-air, I swallow the previous bite nervously. “I would have called to let you know but I…I don’t have a cell phone at the moment. I thought it would all right.”

  Hovering on other side of the room as if scared to get too close, she shakes her head. Her stiff gray hair is sprayed thick with hairspray and refuses to shift or sway with her movement. “It’s fine. Just fine. I…wasn’t sure you’d be up for it so soon after…after the ordeal you’ve been through.”

  I sense fear in her. The look on her face reflects it clearly. When she looks at me she sees someone who survived the unimaginable by committing a horrendous act. Like Terin, she has no idea how to be around me. Her nervous energy triggers my own familiar agitation, so I pack up the remaining food into the Tupperware, and scoot out of the chair. “I’m just finishing here.”

  Gretta sidesteps to the corner, allowing a wide berth between us as I scurry out of the room. Neither of us says another word.

  The rest of the day drags by as I make every effort to avoid other people. Withdrawing into the fearful apprehension of my inner world, I hide away in the back room, surrounded by paperwork. I desperately want to leave early but I refuse. I must get through this test. If I don’t, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to return. Why do I feel like this? I’m a survivor. Where is my courage? The bravery that saved my life? How do I get back to that place of strength?

  My hands tremble incessantly as I file papers, the battle in my mind consuming me. Imaginings of returning to the confines of my apartment, repress all other thoughts. Silence. Absence of judgment. A paring knife awaits. The scabs on my forearms itch.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The muscles in my shoulders relax just a fraction as tension eases with my departure from the library. The memory of meeting Vance out on the front steps surges forward as I walk out the door. I push it down deep and tuck my chin, as if resisting the thought physically too. I’m leaving a half hour early, but in my current state I see this as a win. I made it through the first day back. It wasn’t pretty, but it counts. It has to.

  Defending myself from the unusually frigid weather, I button my peacoat, then hug myself tightly as I descend the stairs. As I reach the bottom stair, my vision tunnels. I reach for the railing and brace my weight as I fight to remain conscious and standing. I haven’t eaten since lunch and that consisted only of half-eaten yogurt and sliced vegetables. Nothing of substance. I need food.

  Once desperate to get to my car and back to the sanctuary of home, I’m now focused on eating something, anything, to get my blood sugar up. I can’t drive like this. Rather than rounding the corner of the library and heading to my car, I regain composure and walk the opposite direction with hurried steps. There’s an Irish pub less than two blocks away.

  The streets are busy. Pedestrians rush from point A to point B. It feels as if they’re all staring at me. I duck my head and scurry along faster.

  Approaching the pub, an African-American teen girl stands in the entryway handing out flyers, hopeful excitement shining brightly from her big brown eyes. I’m shaky and weak. I don’t have the energy to deal with people. Even this innocent young girl. Averting my eyes, I keep my head down and brush past her, hoping she’ll take the hint and leave me alone.

  “Miss?”

  No such luck. I ignore her and open the door anyway.

  “Miss? Would you like to take a flyer? It’s just an advertisement for our new studio down the road. We teach various forms of self-defense and martial arts. You want to protect yourself, don’t you?”

  As the door swings shut behind me, I stand frozen, my head still aimed at the ground. Her question echoes in my mind. I turn and open the door again, extending my hand. “Sure. I’ll take a flyer.”

  She pauses briefly, a look of pleasant surprise endearing her youthful, round face. “Hey, great!” She licks her finger and thumb and pulls a flyer from the top of the stack. “It’s my family’s business. We just opened this month and we’re excited to get new customers. We have an orientation class tonight if you’d like to show up and take a look at what we have to offer. I think you’d like it.”

  Her enthusiasm overwhelms me and I wish I wouldn’t have turned around. I take the offered flyer, fold it quickly, and tuck it into the front right pocket of my coat. “Thank you. I might do that.” Before she can say anything further, I turn and retreat inside the restaurant.

  “We’ll see you tonight then,” she calls out as I walk away.

  I shake my head, knowing I won’t go out tonight. I’m tired. Scared. A fucking mess. Why did I decide I wanted the flyer in the first place?

  ***

  With a full belly, I walk inside my apartment and shed my coat. As I hang it in the hall closet, I notice the flyer poking up out of the pocket. With a sigh of resignation, I close the door, out of sight. Weary from the day, I shuffle into the living room and flop down onto the couch. I feel strange. Not sure what I’m feeling, exactly. Full. I finally ate more than I’ve had in one sitting for almost two weeks now. I’m no longer agitated like I was at work, aching for release, but I’m definitely restless. Antsy.

  I’m glad to be home. Feels go
od to have my walls surrounding me. Yet, I’m not satisfied with being alone, doing nothing. I’m bored. I need something to stimulate me. But what? I don’t want company, not even Terin. I don’t want to leave the house, that’s for sure.

  I lean forward and pluck the remote from the coffee table. Leaning back in the deep cushions, I prop my feet up on the table and turn on the television. Flip through the channels half-heartedly. Cooking network. Talk shows. News. Weather. I pause for a moment when I come across an old Friends rerun. Used to be my favorite show. Still is. Now, for some reason, the antics of the characters and the obnoxious laugh track set my nerves on edge. I continue to scroll through the channels and finally settle on VH1. They’re having an Elton John tribute. I close my eyes and listen to the music.

  An image of Officer MacGregor sitting in my living room comes to mind. I feel the corners of my mouth turn upward. It feels foreign to smile. The image behind my eyelids reminds me of why he came by that day. The video card. The smile fades and my belly quivers. My brow furrows tight against the onslaught of images that follow, as I imagine what the camera saw from its point of view.

  I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling above, my mind racing.

  I should watch the video.

  This idea both enthralls and sickens me. Can I do it? I leap off the couch and march down the hall to my bedroom. Crouching low, I belly crawl under my bed and reach up under the wooden frame, unable to see what I’m doing. My heart skips a beat when my fingers don’t find what they’re searching for. Where is it? What if Officer MacGregor broke into my home and found it? That’s ludicrous. He needs a warrant. Oh god! What if he comes back with a warrant?