Barely Breathing by Rebecca Donovan Read Free Book Online Page A

it, I was afraid she was going to tell me that she couldn’t do this―that she didn’t want to be a part of my life again. And that thought kept me from being able to relax long enough to appreciate that I was here, with her. "I guess I am kinda nervous.”
    "You're going to be fine," Evan assured me, giving my hand a squeeze. “Oh, I have something for your room.”
    Evan reached inside his jacket and pulled out a large envelope, handing it to me. I opened it and pulled out a stack of pictures. I smiled as I flipped through the images Evan had captured with his camera. Action shots of me playing soccer, feral and intense. Still moments of Sara and me laughing. Another of me sitting on his front porch, lost in thought, oblivious to his camera. There were even a few shots of the two of us posing, his arm around my shoulder, that were taken during a picnic last fall.
    I leaned over and kissed him. “Exactly what my room needs.” I removed the sign from the board above the desk and tucked the pictures under the black ribbon that crisscrossed over its surface.
    A soft knock rapped on my door. Before I could say anything, my mother slowly opened it and poked her head in. “I was going to order a pizza. Are you hungry?”
    “That sounds great. Thank you,” Evan responded for the two of us. I pressed my lips together and nodded.
    I remained silent at the kitchen table, listening to my mother's nervous chatter. She interrogated Evan about… well, everything. I think focusing on him was her way of keeping the awkwardness between us at bay. If we were both desperately focused on every word that came out of Evan's mouth, we wouldn't have to figure out what to say to each other. Evan handled the pressure calmly, per usual. He didn't give a hint that the atmosphere was heavily laced with anxiety. But after he left, the uneasy tension was crushing.
    "Do you want to watch a movie?" she asked as I wrapped the left over pizza to place it in the stark refrigerator.
    "I actually have a paper I need to work on that's due tomorrow," I lied. She nodded slowly, and I feared she could tell I wasn't being honest.
    "Okay," she finally said, looking disappointed. A pang of guilt shot through me as I retreated to my room. But I really needed to be alone.
    I lay down on my bed with my arms crossed behind my head and stared up at the freshly painted ceiling. I had so many strange emotions swirling inside of me. I needed a moment to sort them out.
    I hadn’t said more than a half dozen words to this woman in five years, and now I was her roommate. Well, that’s what it felt like. She told stories about her friends and the trips she’d taken as if she were sharing them with someone she’d just met, not her daughter. They made me think about what I was doing while she was having so much fun, and I felt ill.
    While I was in the darkest depths of hell, my mother had been traveling, drinking, and living a carefree life. I wanted to throw up just thinking about it. She never once mentioned leaving me, or my time with Carol and George and what they did to me. It was as if that time had never happened, and we were starting anew―with a big black hole in between. I guess I was having a hard time moving past it.
    To be honest, I hadn’t considered what it would be like to live with her. It’s not like I had expected to rekindle a relationship that was never there in the first place, but I wasn’t expecting to discover I was completely vacant from her life both physically and emotionally for the past five years.
    I stayed in my room for the rest of the night, finally going into the bathroom―that was pretty much the size of a large closet―to get ready for bed around midnight. The television was on in the living room. “Good night.” I hollered down the stairs and heard her talking and laughing in the kitchen, evidently on the phone. I shut my door without waiting for her to respond and slipped under the crisp new white sheets, pulling the