Just Remember to Breathe (Thompson Sisters)
to do sank in. My heart started pounding like crazy, and my stomach was turning, and I wanted to turn and run away. I was having second thoughts again—very real ones. Maybe I should just stop now. And try to figure out a way to make it work. There had to be a way to make it work.
Then she looked up at me, and I caught my breath, and I could see the same happened to her. Her eyes went wide, and she stood and strode toward me. As she did, her face started to twist, and she started to cry, and I couldn’t let her just cry, so I put my arms around her.
I took a deep, slow breath through my nose as I held her, inhaling the scent of her hair, her body. She was wrapped into me, her arms thrown over my shoulders.
Then she kissed me, and the feeling of her lips on mine made me want to scream in grief and terror. Was I really willing to hurt her? Was I really willing to give her up? To give this up?
Our friends approached.
“You okay, man?” Sherman asked. I carefully lowered my arms from Alex, the pain in my right hand excruciating, but she held on, shifting around to my side.
“Yeah, I guess,” I said. “Thanks for, um… everything. I don’t know who paid my bail, but I’ll pay you back. I’ve got the money in the bank.”
Sherman shrugged. “We can deal with that later. Important thing is getting you out of here.”
I went along with them, because I didn’t have the courage to do anything else. We rode back to the Columbia campus in silence, with Alex resting her head on my shoulder. It was as awkward and uncomfortable a moment as I’d ever experienced in my life. And it was only going to get worse.
Knowing that it was a matter of minutes before I was going to lose her forever, I tried to memorize Alex’s voice, her hair, her scent, everything about her. One day she was going to have a wonderful, amazing fucking life. And while I might not be a part of it, I was going to remember. I’d remember every second we had together, and never, ever let it go.
Sherman looked at me, and gave me a curious look. Almost as if he knew what I was thinking. For all I knew, maybe he did. He’s a sharp guy, and he’d been the other half of a long email exchange about me and Roberts and Alex, and I may have even mentioned suicide once or twice.
We dropped off Kelly and Joel, then continued to my apartment.
After getting out of the cab, I said, “I really need to wash up.”
God, I was such a coward. I couldn’t just spit it out.
But why? Why was I afraid? I was going to lose her anyway.
So Sherman and Alex sat on the couch, and I carefully took a shower, trying not to injure my hand any further. Afterward, I slipped into my room, and changed into clean clothes. Just as I was pulling my shirt into place, there was a knock at the door.
I opened it. It was Sherman. Before I could say a word, he said, “Before you do what I think you’re about to do, you need to listen to me.”
I closed my eyes. “Sherman, this isn’t your business.”
“Yeah,” he said, sounding exhausted. “Yeah, it is. Because you’re my friend. And because she’s my friend. Just hear me the fuck out, all right?”
“Jesus Christ,” I said.
He paced for a minute, turned toward me and looked like he was going to say something, then turned away.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, spit it out.”
He turned back and pointed his finger at me. “I warned her.”
“What?”
“I warned her yesterday. I warned her that your fucking overblown victim mentality was going to twist things up and make you break up with her.”
“What the hell?”
He shook his head. “Tell me you haven’t been screwing yourself up to do it the whole ride home. Tell me I’m wrong, Paris.”
This time, I was the one who looked away.
He pointed, out the door and down the hall. “She’s out there, waiting. With her hands on her lap. Her back straight. Trying to hold it all in. Trying to stay brave, even though she knows you’re about to fucking blow her heart into a million pieces. For the second time. We both know you as well as you know yourself, asshole. And let me tell you, you aren’t saving her from anything by doing this. You’re just going to break her heart, and your own, and fuck everything up that’s good in your life.”
I frowned, and said, “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Sherman.”
“Bullshit, I don’t. I was there , Paris. I was there when Kowalski threw himself on that grenade. And I was there when
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