14
BREATHING UNDER WATER
THE SUN HASbarely started rising when I wake up. I must have been exhausted to be able to fall asleep sitting up. Except for the fact that my legs are aching from the weight of Sabin’s head in my lap, I’m comfortable enough leaning into a pillow with my back against the wall. I had the good sense to change out of my holiday dress clothes and into sweats and an old shirt, so that helps. Sabe is still lightly snoring, and I gently smooth his hair away from his face as he takes a deep breath and snuggles into me, tucking his arms under my legs. Eric and Zach are unmoving, entwined next to us under the blanket that I’d tossed over them. Finally I have a use for this large futon: nursing the wounded back to health.
I rub Sabin’s back. His T-shirt is drenched in sweat but I touch him without caring. I want him to feel, even in sleep, that I am crazy about him. That I am unfailingly devoted to him.
Maybe someone else would be too disgusted with everything that he did last night to be near him, but I’m not. I know that he should never have touched me the way that he did. I hate that he forced that kiss on me and that he violated the safe friendship we have, but I forgive him. Easily. The way that he lashed out, the way he did what he could to push me—push all of us—away was a test. He was trying to prove that we would leave him.
None of us will do that. That’s why we are all here together in this room—because you don’t run after devastation. You stay and hold one another close. At least, that’s what you’re supposed to do, I’m learning.
I kiss my fingertips and touch them to his forehead before wiping the clammy sweat from his brow. My phone vibrates next to me. Funny how I keep it close to me at all times as though I am always waiting for… I don’t know what. Something. I take it from the bed and read the text.
Good morning, sunshine.
I look to Estelle’s bed. Chris is sitting up as I am, with Estelle sleeping across his lap. He is caring for her the way that I’m caring for Sabin. He looks as wiped out as I surely do, but he also looks peaceful. I give him a small wave. He gets that adorable half smile that I love so much and sends me another text.
Sorry about last night. Probably not the way to finish a holiday.
I write back.Ending the day with a giant fight? It’s a classic. Well done to all of us.
He shakes his head as he types.I’m sorry. For so many things.
It takes me a minute to respond to this.You only have one thing to be sorry for, I write back. I pause before I finish my thought, and I know he is watching me.Don’t ever say that I’m too good for you. Say, “Not now.” Say, “Maybe never.” But don’t ever say that shit again.
I meet his eyes and wait until the smile reappears and he mouthsokayto me.
Despite the nature of last night’s mess, one thing has become crystal clear to me overnight: I have never felt as close to anyone as I do to Chris. It is not from the amount of time we have spent together, but from the strength of the unquestionable bond we share.
Gently, I move Sabin off my lap and ease my body between his and the Zach/Eric lump. I take my robe, a towel, a change of clothes, and my bath basket. I motion to Chris and, although he looks questionably at me, he eases out from under Estelle, setting her head on a pillow.
Wordlessly, he follows me down the hall and around the corner to the bathroom. I leave the lights off and hang my towel on the hook outside of the shower stalls and set the basket on the floor of the shower. I turn the water on and then step into him.
It doesn’t matter that we both are covered in the stench of last night’s war. He holds me, his hands cradling my waist while I tuck my arms against his chest and rest my head against him.
“If anything had happened to you last night…” Chris does not move, he just keeps me in his arms, protected.
“Nothing was going to happen. You were there.”
We stand together in the mist that emanates from the shower. The wine is out of my system, my thoughts are clear, and I am hit with the enormity of the impact this family is having in my life. They, and especially Chris, are saving me. Or teaching me to save myself. He is my port in the storm, and that’s why I feel comfortable with what I’m going to do. Chris is going to have to be strong, but I have hope that the story I’m about to tell him will help me, free me even. He is the one person with whom I can remember what I have forgotten.
I pull from his arms just a bit. “I want to tell you about the fire. About how my parents died. And I need to… to wash it away while I tell it.”
He rests his head on top of mine. “Blythe. This is what you want?”
“I have to get this out. If I can tell someone, maybe…”
“I understand,” he says.
“You’re the only person I can do this with.”
“If you’re sure.”
“I am. Are you? You have to be sure, too. I’m going to have a meltdown. I know that, so I need to know that you can… that you can tolerate this. I’m asking a lot.”
“Anything you need.”
The clearest memories of the fire that I’ve ever had happened while I was with Chris, the day I met him at the lake. Before that, I’d only had flashes of images, but images without a sequence. I hope that telling my story to him, with him, will help me put together the pieces. Remember a more complete version. If I can get this, maybe I can heal.
