The Air He Breathes
Page 26
“How do you know?”
Because his eyes are haunted the same way mine are.
“Please don’t worry, Faye.”
“Honey…” Faye sighed into the phone receiver. For a second I contemplated hanging up on her, something I would’ve never done in the past. “You just got back into town a few weeks ago, and I know you’re hurting. But this Tristan guy, he’s mean. He’s wild. And I think what you need is more stability in your life. Have you thought about talking to a therapist or something?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Because therapists were supposed to help you move on, and I didn’t want to move on. I yearned to go backward. “Look, I gotta get going. We’ll talk later, okay?”
“Liz—”
“Bye, Faye. I love you,” I said, and meant it, even though I didn’t like her very much right then.
“Love you, too.”
When I hung up, I went to the front window of the house and watched as the darkened skies started rolling in. A rainstorm was building right in front of me. Such a large part of me was excited for the rain too, because the rain meant the grass would grow faster, and that meant broken Tristan would be here again, standing right in front of broken Liz.
Saturday evening, I couldn’t have been happier sitting and watching Tristan cut the grass. I sat on the front porch with Mama’s heart-shaped tin box of love letters, going through all the words I’d already read millions of times. When Tanner’s car pulled up toward my house, I placed the letters back into the box and shoved them to the corner of the porch. A weird sense of embarrassment washed over me knowing that Tanner was about to see Tristan cutting the grass.
As his engine turned off and Tanner hopped out of his car, I gave him a tight smile and stood up. “What brings you around here, buddy?” I asked. His eyes instantly locked on Tristan, and he frowned.
“Just was driving around after work and thought I would see if you and Emma wanted to grab some dinner or something.”
“We already ordered pizza, and Emma is inside on her second round of watching Frozen.”
He stepped closer, his frown still remaining. “The grass doesn’t seem like it was that long to begin with from what I can tell.”
“Tanner,” I warned, my voice low.
“Please tell me you aren’t paying him cash, Liz. He’s probably using it for drugs or something.”
“Stop being ridiculous.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Ridiculous? I’m being realistic. We don’t really know anything about this guy, except that he works with Crazy Henson. And I mean, look at him; he has the look of some psychopath or killer, or Hitler or something. It’s creepy.”
“If you want to stop being a jerk, you can head inside and get some pizza. Otherwise, we should catch up later, Tanner.”
His head shook back and forth. “I’m going to run inside and say hi to Emma, then I’ll get out of your hair.” He went inside the house with his hands stuffed in his jeans, and I sighed. When he came out, he gave me a wary smile. “There’s something different about you, Liz. I can’t put my finger on it, but you’re acting strange ever since you came back. It’s like I don’t know who you are anymore.”
Maybe you never did.
“We’ll chat later, okay?”
He nodded and walked back to his car. “Hey,” he hollered in Tristan’s direction. Tristan turned and looked his way with narrowed eyes. “You missed a patch to your left.” Tristan blinked once, then went back to what he was doing as Tanner drove off.
After Tristan finished, he walked over to the porch and gave me a semi-broken smile. “Elizabeth?”
“Yes?”
“Can I…” His words stuttered off, and he cleared his throat, scratching at his beard. He stepped up closer to me. I watched the sweat sitting at his hairline began to fall against his forehead and such a big part of me longed to wipe it away.
“Can you what?” I whispered, staring at his lips longer than I should have.
He inched closer, making my heart rate increase. I stopped breathing and simply stared at him. My head tilted slightly as his brown eyes seemed to be staring at my mouth, the same way I stared at his.
“Can I…” he muttered.
“Can you…” I echoed.
“Do you think…”
“Do I think…”
He looked into my eyes. My heartbeats somehow slowed yet sped up all at once. “Do you think I could use your shower? My hot water is out.”
A small, low breath passed through my lips and I nodded. “Yes. A shower. Yeah, of course.” He smiled and thanked me. “You can borrow some of Steven’s clothes, so you don’t have to run over to your place.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to.” I nodded. “I want to.” We headed inside and I grabbed a plain white T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants from my bedroom for Tristan. Then I picked up some washcloths and towels for him to use. “Here you go. There’s shampoo and soap in the shower already. I’m sorry but most of it smells girly.”
He chuckled. “Better than my current smell.”
I hadn’t heard him laugh before. It was such a welcomed sound. "Okay, well, anything you need can be found under the sink, too. I’ll be around.”
“Thank you.”
“Anytime,” I said, and I meant it.
He began chewing on the inside of his cheek and nodded once before closing himself into the bathroom. A sigh left me as I disappeared to go put Emma to bed to keep myself busy until Tristan was done in the shower.
Walking down the hallway toward the bathroom, I paused when I reached the open door. Tristan was standing in front of the bathroom sink wearing only the sweatpants I’d given him.
Tristan ran his hands through his long, wet hair that he tossed into a man bun on his head. He brought a razorblade to his upper lip, making me twitch. “You’re shaving?”
He stopped his movement and glanced my way once before he made his mustache cease to exist. He then trimmed his beard to the point that it was almost invisible.
“You shaved.” I sighed, staring at a man who looked so different than mere minutes before. His lips looked fuller, his eyes brighter.
He broke his stare away from me and went back to studying his now nude face in the mirror. “I didn’t want to look like a serial killer, or worse—Hitler.”
Because his eyes are haunted the same way mine are.
“Please don’t worry, Faye.”
“Honey…” Faye sighed into the phone receiver. For a second I contemplated hanging up on her, something I would’ve never done in the past. “You just got back into town a few weeks ago, and I know you’re hurting. But this Tristan guy, he’s mean. He’s wild. And I think what you need is more stability in your life. Have you thought about talking to a therapist or something?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Because therapists were supposed to help you move on, and I didn’t want to move on. I yearned to go backward. “Look, I gotta get going. We’ll talk later, okay?”
“Liz—”
“Bye, Faye. I love you,” I said, and meant it, even though I didn’t like her very much right then.
“Love you, too.”
When I hung up, I went to the front window of the house and watched as the darkened skies started rolling in. A rainstorm was building right in front of me. Such a large part of me was excited for the rain too, because the rain meant the grass would grow faster, and that meant broken Tristan would be here again, standing right in front of broken Liz.
Saturday evening, I couldn’t have been happier sitting and watching Tristan cut the grass. I sat on the front porch with Mama’s heart-shaped tin box of love letters, going through all the words I’d already read millions of times. When Tanner’s car pulled up toward my house, I placed the letters back into the box and shoved them to the corner of the porch. A weird sense of embarrassment washed over me knowing that Tanner was about to see Tristan cutting the grass.
As his engine turned off and Tanner hopped out of his car, I gave him a tight smile and stood up. “What brings you around here, buddy?” I asked. His eyes instantly locked on Tristan, and he frowned.
“Just was driving around after work and thought I would see if you and Emma wanted to grab some dinner or something.”
“We already ordered pizza, and Emma is inside on her second round of watching Frozen.”
He stepped closer, his frown still remaining. “The grass doesn’t seem like it was that long to begin with from what I can tell.”
“Tanner,” I warned, my voice low.
“Please tell me you aren’t paying him cash, Liz. He’s probably using it for drugs or something.”
“Stop being ridiculous.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Ridiculous? I’m being realistic. We don’t really know anything about this guy, except that he works with Crazy Henson. And I mean, look at him; he has the look of some psychopath or killer, or Hitler or something. It’s creepy.”
“If you want to stop being a jerk, you can head inside and get some pizza. Otherwise, we should catch up later, Tanner.”
His head shook back and forth. “I’m going to run inside and say hi to Emma, then I’ll get out of your hair.” He went inside the house with his hands stuffed in his jeans, and I sighed. When he came out, he gave me a wary smile. “There’s something different about you, Liz. I can’t put my finger on it, but you’re acting strange ever since you came back. It’s like I don’t know who you are anymore.”
Maybe you never did.
“We’ll chat later, okay?”
He nodded and walked back to his car. “Hey,” he hollered in Tristan’s direction. Tristan turned and looked his way with narrowed eyes. “You missed a patch to your left.” Tristan blinked once, then went back to what he was doing as Tanner drove off.
After Tristan finished, he walked over to the porch and gave me a semi-broken smile. “Elizabeth?”
“Yes?”
“Can I…” His words stuttered off, and he cleared his throat, scratching at his beard. He stepped up closer to me. I watched the sweat sitting at his hairline began to fall against his forehead and such a big part of me longed to wipe it away.
“Can you what?” I whispered, staring at his lips longer than I should have.
He inched closer, making my heart rate increase. I stopped breathing and simply stared at him. My head tilted slightly as his brown eyes seemed to be staring at my mouth, the same way I stared at his.
“Can I…” he muttered.
“Can you…” I echoed.
“Do you think…”
“Do I think…”
He looked into my eyes. My heartbeats somehow slowed yet sped up all at once. “Do you think I could use your shower? My hot water is out.”
A small, low breath passed through my lips and I nodded. “Yes. A shower. Yeah, of course.” He smiled and thanked me. “You can borrow some of Steven’s clothes, so you don’t have to run over to your place.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to.” I nodded. “I want to.” We headed inside and I grabbed a plain white T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants from my bedroom for Tristan. Then I picked up some washcloths and towels for him to use. “Here you go. There’s shampoo and soap in the shower already. I’m sorry but most of it smells girly.”
He chuckled. “Better than my current smell.”
I hadn’t heard him laugh before. It was such a welcomed sound. "Okay, well, anything you need can be found under the sink, too. I’ll be around.”
“Thank you.”
“Anytime,” I said, and I meant it.
He began chewing on the inside of his cheek and nodded once before closing himself into the bathroom. A sigh left me as I disappeared to go put Emma to bed to keep myself busy until Tristan was done in the shower.
Walking down the hallway toward the bathroom, I paused when I reached the open door. Tristan was standing in front of the bathroom sink wearing only the sweatpants I’d given him.
Tristan ran his hands through his long, wet hair that he tossed into a man bun on his head. He brought a razorblade to his upper lip, making me twitch. “You’re shaving?”
He stopped his movement and glanced my way once before he made his mustache cease to exist. He then trimmed his beard to the point that it was almost invisible.
“You shaved.” I sighed, staring at a man who looked so different than mere minutes before. His lips looked fuller, his eyes brighter.
He broke his stare away from me and went back to studying his now nude face in the mirror. “I didn’t want to look like a serial killer, or worse—Hitler.”
