Just Remember to Breathe (Thompson Sisters)

you.”
    She took a deep breath, and I could tell she was just as caught in that memory as I was. She’d taken my hand as we walked through the old house. It was just for a moment, but it was a moment that still burned in my memory.
    “See, courage can come in a lot of ways. It can be on a battlefield, and I’ve dealt with a little of that. It can be… something like you getting up every day, even after what Randy did to you, and still going back to school, going on with your life even though I know it hurt like hell. Alex, you need to know that I admire that about you. The night we left Israel, you wanted me to tell you how I felt. I didn’t know how to do it, then. I didn’t have the courage to do it, then. But I’m telling you now. Okay?”
    She crossed her arms over her chest, and stared at me, her eyes huge, intoxicating. She nodded and bit her lower lip.
    I set the card down next to me. The next one said, En Gedi.
    I looked at her. Was she hearing me? I thought so, but that didn’t mean I’d won her over yet.
    “So, anyway. I know I shouldn’t say this as part of what I’m saying, because it’s going to be all sexist and objectifying and all that stuff. But I’m trying to tell you how I feel. So here’s the thing… Alex, you’re so beautiful, sometimes just looking in your eyes makes my heart stop. Even if I never see you again after today… even if I get to be ninety-nine years old, and have a life that goes on without you… I will never, ever forget our first kiss.”
    She blushed, her color going deep red, and I whispered, “You make me feel alive, Alex. We fit together in ways that I didn’t imagine were possible. I know I’m not the most articulate of guys, so it’s hard for me to say this and have it make any sense at all. But over the last few years, I’d been with a few girls. And you’re … something different entirely. Holding you in my arms… touching you… it’s like plugging me into an electric socket. It’s hard for me to be around you and not touch you, you’re intoxicating—sometimes I’m desperate just to reach out and touch one little hair on your head.”
    I took a deep breath, looking her in the eyes. “If you send me on my way today,” I whispered, “If you tell me to get the hell out of your life and never come back… I’ll accept it. But it will be the one and only permanent regret of my life: that we never made love. That we lost our future together.”
    She began to tremble, and opened her mouth to speak, and gently, I placed an upright finger over her lips.
    “You promised,” I said quietly. “No interruptions. Let me get this out before you send me away. I’m begging you.”
    A tear rolled down her cheek. I don’t know if she was sad, or angry, or happy, or what. So I moved on quickly to the next card, hoping desperately that she was going to allow me to continue until I was completely finished. When I set the card with the words En Gedi down, she picked both of them up, and held them in her hands.
    The next card said, The Rules. As I opened my mouth to speak, she snatched it out of my hands.
    I blinked, surprised, as she read the card, and her eyes immediately watered. What was she thinking of, when she saw that card? Her silly rules, her perfect rules, that had allowed us to tolerate each other long enough to fall for each other all over again?
    “Alex, I love the fact that you’re … you’re creative as hell. You’re smart. Even after I broke your heart, you figured out a way for us to be around each other. It might have been flawed, it might have been a little crazy, but it worked. I love the games we played. I loved when we asked each other questions and took turns, and I hope we never ever stop doing that. When I’m ninety, I want you to tell me that it’s my turn to ask you a question, and if that miracle happens, then my question is going to be, ‘Do you still love me?’ and I hope the answer will still be yes.”
    Tears were running down her face now.
    The next card had one word on it: Dad.
    She took that one from me too, as soon as I read it. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, and said, “My dad used to blame me for all kinds of crazy stuff. Like the first time he hit my mom. I told you about that. And I think I blamed myself, too. I thought… if I could just be better, then maybe they wouldn’t drink so much. If I didn’t screw up so much in school, maybe they wouldn’t be stressed out so much, and drink so