Breathe, Annie, Breathe
Page 39
“Mine too.” He bites into his chicken sandwich and stares out at the highway. “I just wish she wouldn’t push me all the time now.”
“I wish mine wouldn’t push me either…” We look at each other for a long moment. Then I admit, “My mom had been trying to get me to hang out with friends and go shopping and stuff for months…and she just kept pushing me until I snapped. And I said some stuff—”
Some stuff I regret. I blamed her for my boyfriend’s death.
Jeremiah looks at me expectantly, but I don’t want to tell him any of my big secrets, my shame. “My mom never talks to me about anything real anymore. And I don’t know how to get back to where we were.”
“Have you tried talking to her?” Jeremiah asks through a mouthful of fries.
I shake my head.
He swallows the bite in his mouth. “My mom and I didn’t talk for a long time…she threw a hissy fit after I hurt myself bungee jumping. “
“And now?”
“Things aren’t great, but I know I can go to her anytime I need her. Maybe your mom’s waiting on you.”
Maybe.
My entire life, Mom always told me: “You’re a beautiful girl, Annie, and lots of boys will like you, but never depend on one. You should depend on yourself.”
I knew Kyle loved me. I knew he’d take care of me forever. But I had never forgotten what Mom said. She and my father never married—he left before I could crawl, but I don’t really care that I’ve never known him. Who would want to know a father who walks out on his girlfriend and young kids?
Mom has dated off and on over the years, but never serious enough to settle down. And I think she’s fine with that—Nick and I have always been her focus. She gave me everything, sometimes working two jobs to make enough money to pay for our braces, my summer camps, and Nick’s baseball cleats.
That’s why I said no to Kyle’s proposal—because I want to go to college, to learn to take care of myself.
Jeremiah’s right. I could try reaching out to my mom again. Even though we live paycheck-to-paycheck, clip coupons, and have never flown anywhere on an airplane, she’s never let me down. She always makes it work.
Maybe I can try to make it work too.
•••
I can’t stand the idea of not being able to beat Jeremiah at something.
So I agree to hang out with him after my brunch shift on Sunday. While waiting for him in the Roadhouse parking lot, I sniff my T-shirt. Yup, I smell like onions.
He arrives right on time, wearing running shorts and a wrinkled gray tee. I smile up at his face as he walks up to me, and that’s when I discover the large welt next to his left eye.
“Oh my God,” I say, lifting up on tiptoes to get a better look. Without thinking, I gently push his light brown hair back to check out the greenish lump. The bruise looks a few days old. “What happened?”
“White-water rafting with some of the guys. We crashed.”
I thought he was giving up extreme sports. Does white-water rafting count as one? “How big were the rapids?”
“Only class four. Pretty moderate. That’s why I figured it’d be okay, you know?” He looks embarrassed.
“What did your mom say?”
“She hasn’t seen it…I’ve been staying at my fraternity house until the swelling goes down. I don’t want Jennifer and Lacey to see it and get scared.”
“Jeremiah,” I say quietly. “Please be careful.”
“I’m always careful.”
I don’t buy that at all. I mean, he ran on an injured ankle, and less than two weeks later, he has another injury. Worried, I touch a finger to the scar on his arm.
He leans down, huskily whispering in my ear, “Careful. Last time you touched my scar, we ended up on the banks of the Little Duck.”
I yank my finger away. “This isn’t a good idea.” I pull my keys from my pocket and stalk toward my car, feeling a shiver shoot up my spine.
“Annie! Wait.” He runs to block my driver’s side door, not letting me open it. “I’m an idiot. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or hurt you or anything.”
“Then why did you say that?”
“Because I’m a guy. And sometimes guys say dick things. Because guys think with their d—”
“Jere.” I jingle my keys, inhaling deeply. “Look, I like hanging out with you, but what I need is a friend. That’s all.”
He flexes his hands, looks deep in my eyes. “Will my friend forgive me for saying something stupid?”
“I wish mine wouldn’t push me either…” We look at each other for a long moment. Then I admit, “My mom had been trying to get me to hang out with friends and go shopping and stuff for months…and she just kept pushing me until I snapped. And I said some stuff—”
Some stuff I regret. I blamed her for my boyfriend’s death.
Jeremiah looks at me expectantly, but I don’t want to tell him any of my big secrets, my shame. “My mom never talks to me about anything real anymore. And I don’t know how to get back to where we were.”
“Have you tried talking to her?” Jeremiah asks through a mouthful of fries.
I shake my head.
He swallows the bite in his mouth. “My mom and I didn’t talk for a long time…she threw a hissy fit after I hurt myself bungee jumping. “
“And now?”
“Things aren’t great, but I know I can go to her anytime I need her. Maybe your mom’s waiting on you.”
Maybe.
My entire life, Mom always told me: “You’re a beautiful girl, Annie, and lots of boys will like you, but never depend on one. You should depend on yourself.”
I knew Kyle loved me. I knew he’d take care of me forever. But I had never forgotten what Mom said. She and my father never married—he left before I could crawl, but I don’t really care that I’ve never known him. Who would want to know a father who walks out on his girlfriend and young kids?
Mom has dated off and on over the years, but never serious enough to settle down. And I think she’s fine with that—Nick and I have always been her focus. She gave me everything, sometimes working two jobs to make enough money to pay for our braces, my summer camps, and Nick’s baseball cleats.
That’s why I said no to Kyle’s proposal—because I want to go to college, to learn to take care of myself.
Jeremiah’s right. I could try reaching out to my mom again. Even though we live paycheck-to-paycheck, clip coupons, and have never flown anywhere on an airplane, she’s never let me down. She always makes it work.
Maybe I can try to make it work too.
•••
I can’t stand the idea of not being able to beat Jeremiah at something.
So I agree to hang out with him after my brunch shift on Sunday. While waiting for him in the Roadhouse parking lot, I sniff my T-shirt. Yup, I smell like onions.
He arrives right on time, wearing running shorts and a wrinkled gray tee. I smile up at his face as he walks up to me, and that’s when I discover the large welt next to his left eye.
“Oh my God,” I say, lifting up on tiptoes to get a better look. Without thinking, I gently push his light brown hair back to check out the greenish lump. The bruise looks a few days old. “What happened?”
“White-water rafting with some of the guys. We crashed.”
I thought he was giving up extreme sports. Does white-water rafting count as one? “How big were the rapids?”
“Only class four. Pretty moderate. That’s why I figured it’d be okay, you know?” He looks embarrassed.
“What did your mom say?”
“She hasn’t seen it…I’ve been staying at my fraternity house until the swelling goes down. I don’t want Jennifer and Lacey to see it and get scared.”
“Jeremiah,” I say quietly. “Please be careful.”
“I’m always careful.”
I don’t buy that at all. I mean, he ran on an injured ankle, and less than two weeks later, he has another injury. Worried, I touch a finger to the scar on his arm.
He leans down, huskily whispering in my ear, “Careful. Last time you touched my scar, we ended up on the banks of the Little Duck.”
I yank my finger away. “This isn’t a good idea.” I pull my keys from my pocket and stalk toward my car, feeling a shiver shoot up my spine.
“Annie! Wait.” He runs to block my driver’s side door, not letting me open it. “I’m an idiot. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or hurt you or anything.”
“Then why did you say that?”
“Because I’m a guy. And sometimes guys say dick things. Because guys think with their d—”
“Jere.” I jingle my keys, inhaling deeply. “Look, I like hanging out with you, but what I need is a friend. That’s all.”
He flexes his hands, looks deep in my eyes. “Will my friend forgive me for saying something stupid?”
