Reason to Breathe

26. Broken





“You bitch,” Haley Spencer sneered from beside my locker. “What did you say to him?”


“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I knew she was obviously talking about Evan, but I had no idea what was going on.

“You must have said something to him to make him to leave,” she insisted.

I heard her words, but I couldn’t comprehend what she was saying. I stared back, stunned.

“He left!” Haley exclaimed. “He moved back to San Francisco, and I know it was because of you.” Before I could respond, she stormed away.

I stood in her wake, unable to move. My books slipped from my hands and fell to the floor. Was she telling the truth?

“Here you go,” a voice said, handing me my books.

“Thank you,” I murmured, absently taking them without looking at the face.

There’s no way she could be telling the truth. He had to be here. He just wasn’t in school today. That was evident by his absent seat in English class. He couldn’t have moved.

“Em, I just heard,” Sara said from behind me. “I am so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“It’s true?” I asked, turning to meet her sympathetic eyes.

“Yeah, I heard it from one of the guys on the basketball team.”

Sara stood in front of her locker, contemplating my expression. She waited for me to react. But I couldn’t. I didn’t want to believe it. How could he be gone?

Then something broke. Sara saw it the second it happened and rushed alongside me, guiding me to the girls’ bathroom. The halls were relatively empty since everyone had already gone to class, so there weren’t many witnesses to the dramatic scene.

The pain crushed my heart. I sank to the floor, sliding my back down the cool tile wall. I didn’t cry, and my eyes didn’t fill with tears, although my insides felt like they’d been shred. I stared straight ahead, unable to focus on the wall across from me. We sat in silence for a time. I heard Sara breathing next to me, quietly witnessing my slow acceptance of the truth.

“He’s really gone?” The words were caught in my throat, and I breathed them out in the faintest whisper.

Sara remained by my side without a word, holding my hand. The truth sank in deeper and my heart released an aching sob. I collapsed onto Sara’s lap and gave in to its grief. My chest heaved as I gasped for air. Sara stroked my hair to sooth me while I cried into my folded arms.

“He can’t be gone,” I wept, wishing that saying it out loud, would make it true. I released another cry of pain.

Exhausted and raw, I laid my head still against her legs while the tears dried upon my face. My eyes stung from the tears, and my throat ached from the cries. My mind swirled with thoughts of why he left and questions of how he could have done it so suddenly. The more I thought about it, the more the pain turned to anger.

“I can’t believe he left without saying anything.” I pushed myself up to sit, the tension drawing back my shoulders. “He couldn’t even say good bye? Who does that?”

My rapid succession of emotions left Sara speechless, unable to find the words to answer. I stood up and began pacing, clenching my fists as I fumed at the thought of his selfish escape.

“Did the thought of being around me infuriate him so much that he couldn’t even return to school? He had to run away to the other side of the country just to avoid me?! He’s the one who stopped talking to me! Was I not supposed to get over him? Did he really want me to continue waiting for him to forgive me for something I didn’t do? I’m sorry if he didn’t like seeing me with someone else – but to pick up and move because of it!”

I grunted in frustration. My mind raced while I continued my pacing, unable to release my closed fists. I huffed and lost the words to continue my rambling rage. I breathed in, considering his actions with my heart strangled in my chest. The ire slowly subsided into a begrudged acceptance.

“Fine, if that’s how he felt, then he should’ve gone. He obviously couldn’t stand to look at me, so why should I care if he left?! Now I don’t have to worry about him yelling at me, or making me feel guilty for my decisions. I don’t care if I ever see him again.”

This was almost convincing, but my heart stuttered in panic at the thought of not seeing his face in the halls.

“Do you really believe that?” Sara asked tentatively. I blinked at her, recognizing that she was in the room. “He didn’t hate you, Emma.”

“You don’t know that, Sara,” I shot back. “I hurt him. I couldn’t trust him enough to let him in. Then I accused him of things he didn’t do. To top it all off, I shoved it in his face by kissing another guy right in front of him. Of course he hates me, and maybe he should. He couldn’t even be around me anymore. He absolutely hates me.”

Sara remained silent as I convinced myself of this. The words stung, and the anger settled. It was no longer directed at Evan but at myself. I looked at my reflection in the mirror above the sink. The pain and anger flickered in my eyes as I realized that it all circled back to me. Now I was left holding the pieces of my heart, crushed by my own hands.

I shook my head in disgust at the image in the glass. I stared at the dark eyes, my jaw tightening, allowing the anger and revulsion to grow. I accepted the blame for forcing him away. He had every right to hate me, just as I hated myself at that moment. My stomach turned to ice, and I looked away from the accusing eyes.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed the pain deep down, but I let the guilt and self-loathing fester as a punishing reminder. I took another quick breath before facing Sara. She remained a silent witness, concern etched in her eyes. I was exhausted by the gut wrenching turmoil and couldn’t feel anything anymore.

“I pushed him away, so he left,” I confessed quietly, submitting to the final truth. “I don’t have anyone to blame but myself – and now he’s gone.” I shrugged my shoulders dismissively. Sadness settled in Sara’s eyes.

“Don’t worry,” I assured her. “I’m okay.”

“No you’re not,” she whispered with a small shake of her head. After a brief silence, she said, “I think this period’s about over. Are you going to your next class?”

“Sure,” I shrugged. “Why not?”

We walked back to our lockers. My locker stood open, with my books casually tossed in the bottom. I grabbed what I needed as the bell rang.

“I’ll see you back here before lunch?” Sara confirmed quietly, the worry still heavy in her eyes. I nodded.

I lingered at my locker for a second after Sara headed to class. I knew what was waiting for me, and as much as I tried to convince myself I was ready, I knew better. Smothered by anxiety, I couldn’t loosen the tightness in my chest as I walked to Anatomy.

I sank onto my seat at the black table; the empty chair next to me screamed at me the entire class. I couldn’t concentrate on the lecture. I kept glancing over at the crushing reminder of his absence.

By the end of class, I was irritated with my sorrow. I didn’t have any right to grieve for him. I was the reason he was gone. But it didn’t matter how much blame I took for forcing him to leave or how much effort I made to push it away – I was broken.





“Are you still in pain?” Drew questioned when he sat next to me and Sara at lunch.

I’d almost forgotten he was joining us, until he pulled out the chair. The guilt of being distracted by Evan washed over me with Drew’s words. I obviously was not concealing my misery very well.

“No, I’m fine,” I assured him with a forced smile. “It’s just weird having everyone staring at me all day, that’s all.”

This wasn’t completely a lie, although it had nothing to do with my pained expression. Everyone had been staring at me since I arrived at school that morning. I expected some stares and whispers, especially after Sara’s account of the last time they saw me at the basketball game. But I wasn’t expecting so many gawking faces. It was as if I’d returned from the grave. It was unsettling.

Drew’s relief was evident when I saw him in the parking lot that morning. I was too preoccupied with searching for Evan’s car to notice him approaching with a huge smile on his face. I suddenly caught sight of him and found his greeting too contagious not to return. He startled me when he wrapped his arms around me and held me gently against him. I hesitated before hugging him back. Sara watched in amusement, knowing I was freaking out on the inside.

I was more concerned that Evan might see us than I was about being in Drew’s arms. It wasn’t really a horrible place to be. I glanced around at the eyes that turned our way as they walked by. I was still trying to accept that Drew really did care about me. More importantly, I was trying to figure out how I felt about him.

So, as he sat at the lunch table asking me if I was still in pain, I decided I wasn’t going to think about it anymore.

I leaned over and kissed him firmly on the lips and said as I pulled away, “I feel much better, thanks.”

A grin emerged across his face and a subtle flush rose to his cheeks. Behind me, Sara started choking. I turned toward her convulsions.

“Sorry,” she whispered, her face bright red. “Some bullshit caught in my throat.” I raised my eyebrows at her words, hoping Drew hadn’t heard.

“Are you playing in your game Wednesday?” Drew asked.

“It depends on how practice goes today and tomorrow,” I replied. Drew moved his chair closer and rested his arm along the back of my chair. I could feel his heat radiating along my side, but the proximity of his body didn’t ignite the tingling I was searching for.

“I’ll definitely play Friday,” I said, casually leaning closer so my shoulder touched his. I urged my heart to take notice, but it was too busy moping and wasn’t about to be forced to flutter.

“Do you want to come over after the game to watch a movie?” he asked. Suddenly realizing Sara would be there too, he looked at Sara to include her in the invitation. “Or hang out or something?”

“There’s a party Friday night at Kelli Mulligan’s beach house,” Sara informed him.

“Oh, you have plans?” Drew recognized in disappointment.

I shrugged apologetically, unaware of Sara’s plans for us on Friday night. I was still trying to get used to the idea that I had a Friday night. When Sara found out that I was going to be staying with her on the weekends, all of her worries about my returning home rushed away. In their place was a revelation that she finally got to bring me to all the things I’d been missing out on. So my schedule defaulted to hers on the weekends – which was a little overwhelming.

“I have computer class with Kelli during second period; she invited us this morning. We’re probably staying over,” she informed us.

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. Not only did I have plans on a Friday night, but my sleep over had a sleep over? The thought of a party sent a familiar sensation surging through my veins – panic.

“She mentioned something about it to me last week after our basketball game. I didn’t really consider it at the time. Is she letting anyone sleep over?” Drew asked.

“I don’t know,” Sara answered. This was not what she expected him to say, and I could tell she was bothered. I grinned.

“Do you want to go to the party?” My invite caused Sara to kick me under the table.

“I’ll make sure it’s still okay with Kelli. I have class with her next actually.”

“Great,” Sara forced. Her false enthusiasm was glaringly obvious to me, but Drew didn’t appear to notice.

The lunch bell rang and Drew walked us into the hall.

“I’ll see you before we leave for our game?” he confirmed.

“Yes,” I replied with a small smile.

Drew put his hands on my waist and pulled me to him. The chatter of voices and shuffling of feet surrounded us, but I didn’t resist his advances. His soft lips were warm against mine as he held them there for a prolonged moment. My heart refused to flutter, but I couldn’t deny the warmth that spread through my stomach and the swirls that danced in my head. I decided I could live without the rush, since kissing him was by no means uneventful.

“Bye,” he whispered with a small smile before walking away, leaving me looking after him.

“Ready?” Sara asked, snapping me back to the noise of the hall. She stared at me with wide eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“What are you doing?” she demanded incredulously.

“I don’t know what you mean. Aren’t we supposed to be dating?”

“I just sat with you for an hour in the girls’ bathroom –”

“Don’t, Sara.” I turned at the top of the stairs to face her. “This has nothing to do with him. I like Drew.”

Sara raised her eyebrows, challenging my statement.

“Really, I do like him,” I insisted and continued walking toward our lockers.

“Fine, maybe you like him,” Sara conceded. “But it still doesn’t feel right to me. I don’t care how amazing you think Drew is, he’s not –“

“Don’t say it, Sara,” I threatened. “Stop mentioning him. He decided to leave and I have to move on.”

“Just like that?” she challenged. I shrugged. “Don’t do anything stupid, okay? You can’t kiss your way through this.” I rolled my eyes and left her at the lockers to go to Art class.

This ended up being harder than Anatomy. Ms. Mier asked us to create an art piece depicting an emotion. She challenged us to unleash an emotion that could be felt through our artistic interpretation. A thousand different emotions surged through my head. I was fearful of exploring any one of them individually. Anxiety set in as I gathered a canvas and tried to select some colors to begin.

“Having difficulty deciding?” Ms. Mier inquired. “Or are you afraid of tapping into that emotion?” I glanced at her, recognizing her knowing words.

“I’m sorry you have to feel it,” she continued, “but I think you can create something amazing if you let yourself explore it. It may not help you heal, but it may help you process it.”

She paused, gently placed her hand on my shoulder, and whispered, “It’s okay to miss him,” before walking away.

I swallowed hard, pressing my lips together. I grabbed shades of red and orange and returned to my easel to begin processing.

During the two weeks of that assignment, I allowed myself to tap into the raw pain and drip it onto the canvas. I was true to myself with each stroke. It was a draining process, but the release was therapeutic. On several occasions, I fought to focus through blurred vision as I added layers of color, developing the pain with each shade. When I cleaned my supplies, I forced it all back into the shadows. By the time I returned to the halls, nothing remained - except for the aching murmur that took over my heart the day he left.

I moved on. I returned to playing basketball, only sitting out half of the first game after my return. I continued focusing on my academics, and found it easier now that I could escape to my room each night without the suffocating tension. I had the attention of a great guy, who easily distracted my attention whenever he was within sight. And I had guaranteed time with Sara. I was surviving as I promised I would.