AnguiSH (12 page)

             
“There’s no way you stink.  You probably smell like cookies when you sweat.”

             
“Smell me.” She walked up to me and leaned her head sideways.  I leaned into her and inhaled, smelling nothing but raspberry and the remnants of soap.  But while I was there, I might as well have made the most of it.  I pressed my lips to her warm salty skin and let them linger there.  I felt as her hands clasped the front of my shirt and she gasped.

             
“You smell all woman to me.” I let my lips touch her lips while I spoke and she broke out in goose bumps.

             
“I, on the other hand, need to take a shower.” I broke away from her before I could see her reaction.  If her hands were any indication, she liked it.  But if she didn’t, I wasn’t ready to visit the land of disappointment.

             
I took the stairs and showered.  I went back downstairs and she was gone again.  A pink piece of paper was attached to the fridge and it read, ‘Be back soon.  Going to get movies.”

             
I looked out of the back doors and remembered a time when I took joy and pride in my plants.  And most of the girls I dated in high school thought it was romantic.  Plus, I always had fresh cut roses for them.  Then Holly entered my life.  She made little jokes here and there about how girly it made me sound and how I should not mention it to our friends.  Then the jokes turned into full blown rude remarks and heavy criticisms. 

             
Ash came in with Chinese food and movies, again.  I wondered when she would grow tired of this scenario of movies and dinner—I already had.  “I used to run.” I blurted out. 

             
“Did you?  Like long distance run?”

             
I swore the girl could talk about anything. I could spout out any word and she could turn it into a conversation.  It was fascinating.

             
“Yeah, like every morning.  And I used to pay attention to protein and the right carbs and all that garbage.  And I used to lift weights.”

             
That earned me a look that could only be described as ‘you’re full of crap’.  I was now mostly skin and bones.

             
“So what happened?”

             
“I spent two years in hiding getting incredibly weak and skinny.”

             
She opened a huge carton of noodles and I could tell by her squinty eyes, she was contemplating something.

             
“If we left out early enough or late enough, there wouldn’t be any people out.” She looked at her carton while she spoke.

             
“If we left out early to do what?” She was such an early bird and I despised and adored it at the same time.

             
“To run.  It would probably help you—happy chemicals and dopamine—all that stuff.” 

             
I just ate, not answering her.  She was moving too fast.  I could hear my brain, swirling with self-apocalyptic scenarios.  If someone I knew saw me.  If I saw Holly driving by.  If I tripped and fell and had to be brought to the hospital.  Suddenly, the scenarios mossed around my vision and blurred reality from fiction.  I pushed away from my place at the counter and my lungs heaved, clawing out of my skin.  I felt the blood vessels, hysteric, pulsing for more room to grow. 

             
Then warm hands covered the fire in my face.  I focused only on the hands.  They were soft and their thumbs rubbed over the apples of my cheeks.  “Breaker, you’re fine.  There’s nobody here.  You and me.”  I could feel her breath on my face.  It was a breeze of calm and comfort.

             
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, I opened my eyes and was face to face with the most beautiful creature imaginable. 

             
“Thank you.” I told her. 

             
“All I did was put my hands on you, Breaker. You did it.  It was only about two or three minutes.  I don’t know if that’s a long time or not.”

             
I nodded, “Yeah, it’s not bad.”

             
“I heard your voice.  I focused on your voice.”  She laughed and crunched her eyebrows together. 

             
“Well, whatever you did, it worked.  Do you still want to watch the movie or are you out?”

             
I felt drained, stripped of my energy.

             
“I think I’ll call it a night.  Are you sure you won’t be lonesome?”  I would stay—if she wanted me to, I would stay.

              She made a ‘Pshhh’ noise, “Nah, I’ve got Mark Wahlberg to keep me company.  I’m good.”

             
I went upstairs and for the second time in a long time wished I took my medicine.  I hadn’t wanted her to see that.  I never wanted her to see me like that.  But on the upside, maybe she’d lay off on the intervention.  I could only hope. 

             
I plopped into bed and was out before I knew it.  The after exhaustion from the panic attack, coupled with the yard work had me spent. 

             
And I dreamt of those hands and that voice.

              Thumping—that’s how I would describe the sound.  Two different thumps back to back on wood or the wall—I couldn’t tell and I didn’t care.  I pulled the pillow up over my head to muffle the noise.  After a few minutes it got closer and louder. 

             
I got out of bed and looked around for the person who would be annihilated for the noise.  It came from the other side of the door.  I stalked over to the source and flung the door open. 

             
“What the hell?”  I shouted into the hallway.

             
The treads of a shoe hit me in the knee and I looked to the floor to see the owner of the throwing arm. 

             
“Sorry.” Ash said and then retrieved her shoe from the floor, “Ready?”

             
“No, I’m not ready.  I was sleeping like the dead.  Anyway, what am I not ready for?”

             
“Running.”  She said, hopping up from her squat.

             
“Did you not see what happened last night when I even thought about running?  It wasn’t pretty.”

             
She put her hands on her hips and cocked her eyebrow at me, “Oh good grief, no wonder you haven’t left this house in years.  You have one teeny, tiny episode and you quit.  Give me a break.  Move your ass Collins.”

             
“Did anyone ever tell you how annoying you are in the mornings?”  I shut the door after that but decided I agreed with her.  I did need to do something other than slouch around my room all day.

             
I pulled on some shorts and a hoodie and grabbed a pair of tennis shoes from the closet.  I had to hit them with my hand to get the film of dust off of the shoestrings.  I wrangled them on and headed downstairs where Ash was lifting a glass of orange juice to her mouth.

             
“Who’s stalling now?” I asked her.  She jumped and poured the rest of the juice in the sink.  I saw her briefly move her arm across her face. 

             
“Let’s go, it’s still a little before dawn.  But take it easy on me.  I haven’t run in years either.”  Her voice cracked a little and she was almost whispering.  I knew something was wrong with her but I just didn’t know how to approach it. 

             
We walked outside to stretch and I took a minute to just look around.  It had been too long since I saw the sun come up—outside. 

             
She was very quiet the whole run.  And it hurt like hell.  My calves burned and begged me for mercy.  We found our pace after the first block or so and before I knew it, the street lights had come to life around us.  When they did, we both slowed down and turned around towards home.  When we opened the front door and she still hadn’t uttered a word,

             
“Do you have a rule about silent exercise or have you decided to become a monk?”

             
“Neither,” she shrugged.

             
“No thoughts on breakfast fast food or action movie hotties?”

             
She started walking towards her room, “Nope.”

Ash

             
How could I tell him?  I just wanted to shake his shoulders and scream that he wasn’t the only one who had scars but I wasn’t here for me.  I was here for him. 

             
I got to my room and Mrs. Collins had texted me while I was gone.   And I had a missed text from Ozark from the night before.  Mrs. Collins wanted me to meet her at their house and Ozark texted to apologize for the way he’d acted the other night.  But apologizing by text was almost as treacherous as his first offense. 

             
I showered and got dressed in a dress since every time I visited the Collins’ house I felt like the lowest of the low.  I walked into her office as instructed and sat while she micro-managed me further on my job and then she made sure she sealed the deal with a fat check. 

             
I raced home and slipped back into my room without being noticed.  Breaker had said he was going back to sleep for a while before we got started fixing up the greenhouse again.  And I needed to make up for lost time. 

             
I threw on my yoga pants and the t-shirt I now thought of as my cleaning shirt and got to work.  By the time the lump of lazy got up, it was well past nine.  He tried to feign exhaustion and muscle weakness, but I won again. 

             
We compromised and went only to the hardware store.  I intercepted the people who worked there, telling them we didn’t need help or we were just shopping.  Breaker showed me everything we needed and we filled the buggy and walked towards the cashier.  Even though there weren’t very many people in the store, the line was huge because there was only one cashier in the place.  I tried to make small talk, mostly to keep him focused on me and my voice.  But I could tell he was getting edgy. 

             
We moved up in the line but then a lady with a screaming set of twins got in line behind us.  He leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Give me the keys so I can go get in the car.”

             
I took his hand, “Just breathe.  Talk to me.”

             
“I don’t know what to say, all I can hear is my own heartbeat.”

             
I was desperate to find something to say to him.  Something that would extract him from his own bubble.

             
“This morning, you called me annoying.  That’s like the one word in the English vocabulary that ruins me every time.  I’ve was called it most of my childhood by friends and teachers.  I have a hard time making friends—I can be really overbearing sometimes.  It made me think I was worthless—some habits die hard.  So when you called me that—it stung.  I stayed by myself a lot when I was a kid, reading and cooking.”  We moved up a little and he moved with me, never breaking gaze.

             
“I didn’t know.  I was just kidding anyway.  I’ve never seen someone with such energy.  And I was grumpy from being asleep.  I didn’t mean to Ash.”

             
I rubbed his hand in mine, “I know and it’s fine.  Now stop talking and listen.”  In the few minutes we’d been talking, the mother with the twin had gone to a newly opened register and was already in the parking lot.  And we were at the checkout, the cashier having already started scanning our items.

             
We got to the car and his smile couldn’t be erased.  As we drove back to the house, his energy continued.  I swept up the floors while he set up sawhorses and started measuring.  I got to watch for the most part and run my mouth.  And I must’ve asked him a million questions.  He answered every one without even a hint of aggravation.