Try Not to Breathe, page 3
“Dude.”
Avery took a quick glance around. Ten students, one of her. Everybody likely wasted.
The sun gleamed off the neoclassical buildings. Gracewood looked like a college was supposed to look. The students had everything. So why did anyone need to get blotto in the middle of the day and throw punches?
Avery lifted her right hand, fingers splayed. She placed it in front of Stephen’s chest, an inch away from the T-shirt displaying a logo from a ski equipment company. She remembered her training. Never touch a student. Never yell at a student. Always use polite language: “sir” or “miss” if appropriate. Never curse. Seek nonconfrontational solutions.
“Sir,” Avery said, “can you please not touch me anymore? And can you please step back and stop trying to fight?”
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. “Ooooooooh.”
“Stephen. Stop it.”
“That was the undercard. This is the main event.”
“My money’s on the chick. Stephen drank a twelve-pack.”
“She can shoot him. Pull a Tanya Burns on his fat ass.”
“Tanya Burns deserved it.”
“She’s just doing her job, Stephen. Come inside. Okay?”
Stephen blinked, acting like he was seeing Avery for the first time. Like he’d flipped the kitchen light on and come face-to-face with a roach. “Her job? Her job? I pay her fucking salary.”
“Ooooooooh.”
Avery leaned in, spoke low enough so only Stephen could hear. “Listen, you entitled tub of goo drinking up your parents’ money, I dare you to try me.”
Stephen’s mouth opened wider. He’d probably have worn the same look if the caddy at his country club told him to carry his own bag. “Oh, you fucked up now.”
Stephen’s eyes cleared, and the pupils focused, fixing on Avery. He drew back his big left arm, prepared to sweep it forward and deliver a smack to the side of Avery’s head.
Avery braced, ready for the blow. Anticipating it.
Car doors slammed behind her. The crowd moved farther away. Two of the frat guys fled the scene.
“Hey there,” one of the cops said.
Stephen lowered his arm. His features softened, a sudden transformation. The anger left his eyes and his mouth unsnarled.
“What have we here?” the cop asked.
“Looks serious,” said his partner. “You need a hand, Officer Rogers?”
Avery took a step back, turned her head. Two Breckville cops, thumbs hooked in gun belts, strutted toward them. One chewed gum. Avery didn’t know him, but she recognized the other, Officer Washington.
All the energy drained from the crowd. The students wilted like day-old party balloons.
“What’s the trouble?” the first cop asked around his gum.
“Nothing, sir,” Stephen said. “We were— I mean, I was just . . . Hey, I respect cops, unlike a lot of people these days.”
“Right, I’m sure you do.” Officer Washington looked down his nose at Avery, his sunglasses reflecting her face. “We got a call saying an officer needed assistance. We thought it was one of ours, not campus security.”
“I didn’t need assistance.”
“Sure, Avery. Things looked well in hand when we rolled up.”
The first cop pointed at Stephen. “How old are you, big boy?”
“Nineteen, sir.”
“You been drinking?”
“No, sir.”
“Right. And I’m the attorney general. Everybody, get out your IDs. Real ones, not the fake shit. Why can’t you all learn to keep this nonsense behind closed doors?”
Avery turned to Officer Washington, who drew out his pen and clicked it open with his thumb. “Do you want me to tell you what went down?”
He studied his pen, clicked it a few more times. “I think we’ve got it. Since you can only write students up and we can issue actual citations . . . you can go on back to patrolling. You know, the campus.”
“Right. Yeah.”
Avery backed away. Slinked. She wasn’t sure she’d ever slinked in her life. Her cheeks burned.
“Officer?” The other kid, Stephen’s opponent in the fight.
“Yeah?” Avery said.
“I just wanted to say . . . Well, Stephen isn’t really a bad guy. He just— When he drinks . . . you know?”
“You’re welcome,” Avery said, moving back to her pathetic little security car, the yellow bubble light blinking at her in mockery.
5
Avery returned home to her cramped but clean apartment.
She lived among graduate students, young married couples, and the occasional downsized senior citizen. She stripped off her uniform as fast as she could and headed right to the shower, hoping to wash the shitty shift off her body. A couple of days off lay before her, time to concentrate on what she wanted to do.
When she came out of the shower, her hair dripping, her robe tightly belted around her middle, she felt calmer. The night was pleasantly cool. She opened the living room windows, let the light breeze lift the curtains.
Then her phone chimed twice in a row.
She picked it up, one water droplet falling onto the screen, slightly obscuring her sister Alisha’s message.
You home?
Yes.
I’m in town. Coming over.
Avery dressed, pulling on a long-sleeved T-shirt advertising a 5K she had run in the spring, leggings, and slippers. She filled the kettle to make tea. She and Alisha always drank tea.
As to why her sister was in town and coming over, Avery guessed it was about their dad. She considered Alisha her best friend, the person she was closest to, even though their lives were so different. But lately, when they talked, they talked almost exclusively about the old man. His health, his mental state.
His drinking.
Alisha rapped on the door, three quick knocks, and Avery let her in.
“You look comfy,” Alisha said as she slipped off her jean jacket.
“It was supposed to be a quiet evening at home. One devoted to me. I have a feeling things aren’t going that way now.”
“You’d be right about that.”
While the tea was poured and the sugar added, Avery asked about the kids, her two nieces, who were now four and two.
“They’re little lunatics. What do you expect? They know Halloween’s coming, and they’re out of their minds at the thought of all the candy.”
Alisha had turned twenty-nine a month earlier, and Avery noted a few gray hairs, a few lines forming around her mouth. Not for the first time, Avery saw how much her younger sister looked like their mom—the same brown eyes, the same thin nose. The same height as Avery, just over five feet eight, but a curvier body. Avery always felt an irrational jealousy that her sister looked more like their mom than she did. As much as she hated it, Avery had always been most obviously her father’s daughter. In every way, including looks.
“How about you?” Alisha asked as they settled around the small kitchen table. “How’s work?”
“A laugh a minute.”
“School?”
Avery nodded. “I have a paper due Monday, and this coming weekend is set aside to work on that.”
Alisha’s eyes slid away, and color rose in her cheeks. “I see.”
“Al, I can’t just blow it off.”
“You seem defensive.”
“And you seem like there’s something you don’t want to tell me. And we tell each other everything, so . . . I’m guessing a giant shoe is about to drop. Something big enough that you left your kids at home with Rick or a babysitter and drove an hour to show up on my doorstep with three minutes’ notice.”
Alisha raised her eyebrows, put on a giant fake smile. “Maybe I just missed my favorite older sister. Or maybe I’m so sick of my kids, I’m taking any excuse to get away from them. Heck, maybe I turned them in at the fire station and ran away to start a new life here. Maybe I’m going to get a master’s degree right alongside you.”
“You hated school. When you graduated from UK, you swore you’d never set foot in a classroom again. And you never leave your kids unless you have to.”
“You sound like a cop.”
“I’m not a cop. I work as a security guard to pay my way through school.”
Alisha blew on her tea.
“Is it him?” Avery asked. “Is something wrong with Dad? He pretty much dominates every conversation we have these days. Just like he’s always dominated everything.”
“In a way, it’s Dad. You’re in the right church, but the wrong pew.”
“What is it, then, Al?”
Her sister took a moment. “Have you talked to Anna lately?”
Avery felt heat rising under her collar. “Anna?”
“Yes, Anna.” Alisha leaned in, lifted one eyebrow. “You know, our sister?”
“Our stepsister.”
Avery spit the words out. Not a programmed response but an attempt to dig, a blade she worked in even though her intended target—her dad—wasn’t present to hear it.
Alisha rolled her eyes. “You know I fucking hate it when you say that.”
Avery drained her tea, stood up. She went to the sink—to do what? To get away from Alisha’s disappointed look. Avery ran water, rinsed her mug just to occupy herself.
“She’s our sister,” Alisha said. “Half sister, technically, if you want to get into that hairsplitting bullshit. Not our stepsister. Dad’s daughter.”
Avery drank the slightly brown water that swished in the bottom of her mug. “You know we don’t talk. And we don’t see each other. And if you’re here in your role as family peacemaker trying to get me to reach out to Anna and make nice before Dad drinks himself to death once and for all or before whatever is wrong with Jane gets worse, well, I guess you wasted the trip. We could have had this chat on the phone or via text, but I’m always happy to see you.”
“You’ve never really wanted to help Anna. With anything.”
“Alisha—”
“No, really, Avery. When Dad and Jane asked you to be Anna’s guardian, you said no. No. I never understood that.”
“You’re clearly the maternal one.”
“Oh, bullshit.”
“Why were they so worked up over having a guardian for Anna, anyway?”
“It’s what parents do.”
“No, they were insane about it. They acted like they were both about to get shipped off to the French Foreign Legion. It was such an emotional overreaction. By both of them. Jane practically begged me. It was obnoxious—and just came out of the blue.”
Alisha was watching her, Avery could tell. Her sister’s eyes seared the side of her face.
Alisha said, “I guess you don’t really need or want me to tell you who you’re acting like right now.”
Avery put the mug down with a shaky hand. “How bad is he?”
“He’s bad. He’s in pain, and he’s drinking a lot. I don’t know how much time he has. I really don’t.”
Avery’s knees felt like Jell-O. “What does this have to do with Anna?”
“She’s not going to class. And she’s not answering anyone’s calls or texts.”
“Doesn’t she have a boyfriend? What was the guy’s name? Tyler? Maybe it’s boyfriend trouble.”
“His name is Trevor. And they broke up. But that was months ago. Apparently, Anna and Dad had a fight the last time she went home. A pretty big fight. We’re worried about her, and we—I was hoping you would track her down. Find her.”
“Find her? You heard me. I can’t—”
“Avery, will you just hear me out? This is family, okay? Don’t blow me off.”
6
Avery couldn’t listen. She jumped up, retreated to the bathroom. She ran water in the sink, ignoring the weak pressure for a change.
She cupped cold water in her hands and splashed it on her face.
After the third splash, she stopped and stared into the liquid.
When Avery was five, her dad tried to teach her how to swim. Avery had always feared the water. If she stood near a swimming pool, her mind fixed on the sensation of dropping below the surface, sinking and sinking and never touching bottom. And never coming up for air again.
Her dad spent a few days taking her to a neighbor’s pool, trying to show her how to float, how to move her arms and kick her feet. Avery refused to try anything. She just clung to her dad, her arms wrapped around his thick neck, the sun reflecting off the aqueous blue of the pool. The chlorine smell burned her nose.
On the fourth day, her dad took a new approach. Frustrated, he grabbed Avery by the back of her bathing suit and tossed her in the water. Over the years, her dad defended his actions by saying that she landed in only three feet of water, that he jumped in right after her in case she struggled, that sometimes the shock of an experience like that made a person stronger.
Avery remembered floundering on the surface, gasping and choking. She remembered slipping below the surface, feeling the water rush up her nose.
She still didn’t know how to swim.
She splashed her face one more time, dried it off. When she came out, Alisha was sitting on the couch, knee crossed over knee, foot bouncing in the air.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m not trying to be a dick. I know it’s complicated for you.”
“Isn’t everything with Dad complicated for you too?”
“Well, let’s just say you and I have different . . . forgiveness thresholds.”
“That’s a polite way of saying I hold a grudge. At the academy, we learned those people are called ‘injustice collectors.’ It’s a key trait of serial killers. Besides, Dad never threw you in the pool.”
“Dad never thought I could handle being thrown in. And he was right. We all know you’re the daughter he raised to be the son he never had. He did his best.”
Avery forced her words out. “He was fiercely loyal. And fiercely protective. That’s for sure.”
“Right.”
“I did want to be like him. Desperately. He casts a long shadow.”
“Isn’t that a good thing for a parent? To set such a high standard?”
“Don’t defend him.”
“I’m not defending anybody. We’re a family, Ave. There aren’t sides.”
Avery stood in the center of the room, too wired to sit. “Why don’t you go talk to Anna and find out what her deal is?”
“I went to her apartment already. Nobody home. Dad’s been texting Kayla and not getting a response.”
“Who?”
“Kayla. Anna’s roommate. Have you seriously not even been to her place? She lives ten minutes from here. You go to the same school.”
“I’m a graduate student.”
“Still.”
“Now you are judging me.”
“I guess I am. And why don’t you sit? You’re making me nervous.”
Avery gave in. She plopped onto the other end of the sofa and dropped her hands into her lap.
“You know Anna looks up to you,” Alisha said. “She’d love to have a relationship.”
Avery stared at the floor. Her body tensed.
“I’m sure she looks up to me too, in a way. But I don’t inspire the same kind of worship. I’m not as mysterious and brooding. When you’re nice, people tend to underestimate you. And I’ve been nice to Anna. You know, like a big sister should.”
Avery forced a few words out. “You’re more like Mom.”
“It’s not Anna’s fault Dad cheated on Mom and left her. It’s not Anna’s fault Mom was so crushed she packed all our shit, yanked us out of school, and dragged us with her down to Florida.”
“Ugh, Mom’s Florida year. An extended spring break for a woman in her forties. How many different leathery-skinned boyfriends did she have?”
“Enough that by the time Mom had had her fill of the tropics and we moved back north, we had a baby sister. And it’s not Anna’s fault Dad spent more time with her and was more available to her than he was with us. That’s just . . . fate. The wheel of fortune spun that way.”
“Mm-hmm. Like Mom dying.”
“Mom dying. And getting a stepmother.”
“Don’t mention her. It takes two people to cheat.”
“I guess I can’t say anything right. As usual.” Alisha tapped her fingers against her mug. “You seem particularly on edge tonight. Have you taken my advice about trying to date again? Or at least get laid? It might help.”
“I’m busy.”
“Do you ever talk to Hank?”
“Al, please.”
“Okay, I’m sorry. He was such a sweet guy. I thought you two— Well, okay. Never mind. What is bothering you? Besides our family history and the sound of my voice.”
Avery shifted on the sofa, turned her body to face Alisha. Her sister, as always, showed patience. Openness. Receptivity to whatever Avery needed to say. Even as she started to speak, Avery recognized—again—what a one-way street their relationship was. Alisha filled her life with people who loved and supported and listened to her. Mostly, Avery depended on Alisha.
“I had to bust some asshole today. An oversized frat boy who drank too much and started beating on his much smaller friend out in the street. The way that punk looked at me, looked down on me . . . it brought something back. Made me think of Dad. That look in the eye that’s meant to intimidate. And does.”
“I didn’t know you were scared of anything. Besides water.”
“I got myself into a bad situation. I goaded the guy into taking a swing at me. I wanted him to. I wanted an excuse to get out my frustrations.”
“I’m sorry. What happened?”
Avery shook her head, embarrassed by the memory. “I had to get bailed out by the real cops.”
“Oh, boy. I bet that felt good.”
