The Reason I Breathe Page 2

  She cracks open the door and tosses the flowers in the trash, then turns toward me.

  “She never told you, did she? Ryan never told you we resolved everything. Andrew, she forgave me.”

  “Bullshit,” I say as I stand against Ryan’s bedframe.

  “I ran into her in a grocery store about a year ago. She had Holly with her. Andrew, she looks just like you,” Carrie says, leaning against the far wall. “I told her everything and profusely apologized. She forgave me. She understood. She got it because she knew I’d loved you the same way she loved you. I’m getting married, you know—in six months.”

  Somehow, I know she’s telling me the truth. Ryan had softened emotionally after giving birth. I could almost see her forgiving her. I know why she didn’t confide in me, because I could never forgive her. Carrie hadn’t been there when I found Ryan’s soon-to-be ex-husband beating her. She didn’t witness my fear of losing her. Somehow, it had come full circle, and she was witnessing it now. I can’t keep going through these trials. Ryan has to open her eyes. We have to grow old together. We said vows. She made a promise. I can’t raise our children without her.

  I feel Carrie’s hand on my shoulder. “She’ll be okay, Andrew. I truly believe that. If by chance you need anything—at all—just call me. No strings. I am sorry.”

  I nod as I watch her go out the door. I wonder if Ryan heard that, and for a moment, a smile etches my face. I know how jealous she can be, and I hope hearing Carrie’s voice might resuscitate her.

  Once in a while, I see her hands or arms jerk. The doctors say it’s involuntary. Normal in coma patients. God, she still looks beautiful. If it weren’t for the constant beeping of the machines monitoring her, you’d never know. In the beginning, her head was wrapped in bandages and they had to shave a part of her scalp. I’m almost thankful she hadn’t been aware, because my wife would have freaked over losing any of her hair. It has almost grown back, leaving her as stunning as ever. Her face shows no visible signs of trauma, and her skin is pale and smooth. I watch as the swell of her belly increases over the weeks. My heart aches as I see her go through the changes, and I realize she is witness to none of them.

  “Oh, baby, if there weren’t so many wires and tubes, I’d get in this bed and hold you,” I whisper.

  I haven’t touched her body or lips in weeks. For us, that’s a record. Forget the ice cream and the pickles. When she’d been eight months pregnant with Holly, me being inside her was all she craved. And I gladly obliged. I need that intimacy with Ryan. The feel of my body coiled around her like a snake. Our hearts beating in unison. The rush of us peaking in orgasm at the same time. The loving murmurs we shared between breathless pants. I could never get enough. Maybe it’s all the prior years without her. Possibly, it’s all the complications we’d gone through those first months. Regardless, being inside her is the closest I’ll ever get to finding true peace. It’s a bond only death will break.

  ~2~

  “So, baby, where do I start? I’ve told you so many stories. Which one should I begin with tonight?” I speak to her as if I expect an answer. All I hear is her constant breathing via the vent and occasional beeping belonging to the machines. I watch the heart monitor as it shows both her heartbeat and our son’s. They are equally strong, and for a moment, I want to embrace the machine and press it to my ear.

  §

  Trina had been right when she thought I was fucked up from all the abuse prior to my teens. I think the trauma escalated when my father attempted to kill me. I have issues. They began to surface when I turned seven. I started biting. I even got suspended from third grade because I bit the nurse, my teacher, and the principal. Yeah, I liked biting. Obviously.

  When I found out you were leaving Alaska, I suppose I freaked. I was only eight and crazy in love with my hot older babysitter. I had no idea how hot you’d become, but I’ll save that for later. I had no notion what I was thinking. Did I honestly think biting you would make you stay? Logic of an eight-year-old? What I never expected was you to bite me back. Holy shit, Ryan, that hurt like a bitch. I had no idea when I became a man that biting would become foreplay.

  You were so angry. I almost thought you’d slap me like my father. But you wrapped both our arms in towels and drove us to the emergency room. I know it didn’t stop you from leaving, but it gave me something to remember you by. I still love the touch of the indentations on my arm. It makes me feel connected to you. I marked you thirteen years before you came back to me. That in itself let me know without a doubt that you belonged to me.

  My father never really started doing hardcore violence toward me until I was almost thirteen. Up to that point, it had been the occasional slap, cigarette burn, and some bruises. When I think back, I’m sure he didn’t want anyone to know so he made sure the damage couldn’t be seen. I don’t know why I didn’t tell anyone. My mother knew. I think maybe Trina had some idea. They couldn’t help me, so how could a stranger? Maybe that’s why I kept silent. You never suspected. Jesus, I never wanted you to know.

  My father was a high-powered attorney who knew important people and was a big deal in the community. He had them all fooled. He wasn’t a nice person; he just pretended to be one. My mother did try to intervene a few times, but it never ended well. My body was so scarred from burns, the belt, broken glass, and other miscellaneous things he found to use, I was lucky to be able to find a way to cover it so people wouldn’t know. The only reason I’m even telling you any of this is I need to come clean. Even if you can’t hear me. I need you to know everything baby.

  I’ve left out many details. Seeing you break down that first time I told you about this fucking broke me. I always gave you the edited versions of the abuse. There is so much I left out. I realize now I should have confided in you and told you everything. But there were things I knew you couldn’t bear, so I left out facts, the ones I was too afraid you couldn’t handle. What you do need to know is one of the best days of my life was when I heard he was murdered in prison. Well, the best day until the day you came back into my life.

  Marrying you is the greatest moment I’ve ever known. Followed by fathering Holly, and I have no doubt us holding our son. I feel content and complete. I’d always sensed there was a vacant space. As if I’d never be able to fill the dark rift inside me. I put on an act for a very long time pretending it wasn’t there, but I carried it since the day you left. As I grew older, I knew you’d be the only person to fill that void. Maybe I shouldn’t be so dependent on you. But being with you is all I ever wanted or needed. Having you love me fulfills me.

  All I know is when you took off to New York, my heart was on standstill. Even at eight, I felt an emptiness knowing I’d been abandoned by the only person that filled me with hope and peace. I had no idea what my life would be without you. I knew you were a grown woman and I was a little boy. Somehow, I hoped when you did return, I’d be enough for you. A man you’d want. I had no idea what would happen when our paths crossed again. I’d been fantasizing about you for so many years, I was afraid the reality wouldn’t do you justice. But when I saw you at the funeral, I knew.

  Your dad’s funeral was messed up. I had Carrie hanging on me, and all I could think about was you. When I saw you in that short-as-hell black dress—fuck me—all I wanted to do was bury myself within you. Yeah, I know I was a douche for even thinking about that as your dad was being lowered into the ground. But, baby, I swear I think your dad would have understood. I had this fantasy about you. You were perfection beyond compare. I wasn’t fully prepared for it to actually be true.

  You were still short, but hell had you filled out. You looked amazing. Even that decade-old dress couldn’t hide the swell of full breasts or those lean legs. Your facial structure was shadowed by sunglasses, but I could see full bow-shaped lips pressed into a pout. If I continue to talk about that day much longer, my cock will require manual attention. I digress. Snort. Hold that thought.

  §

  It all of sudden occurs to
me, if Lynne has been privy to some of my past stories, these are definitely not ones I want to share with her. These are private. I get up and make sure the door is closed tightly. As I pull the chair closer to Ryan’s bed to continue my tales, I twist my wedding ring.

  §

  I barely made it through the funeral. And I truly am a tool because I hardly recall anything but you from that day. My body and mind didn’t appear to want to cooperate. If my cock had its choice, I would have bent you over a headstone. However, we all have to have some restraint. If you knew my identity—I wasn’t sure what you would do. But throwing yourself in my arms seemed pretty farfetched, even for my wishful thinking.

  You didn’t recognize me at the funeral. After thirteen years, I wouldn’t expect you to. You’d changed, without a doubt, but I was a man now. When we made eye contact at the funeral, I knew I’d piqued your interest. Okay, I wasn’t exactly positive, but once I got to the wake, yeah, I knew. I watched you intensely as you took small sips out of a glass. Your eyes perusing me occasionally, hoping I didn’t catch you staring. I wasn’t surprised. Women adored me. Not to sound cocky, but I am quite a catch. I think I told you that before. Of course, I wanted more than just to fuck you. I wanted you to be mine.

  I have no idea what you said. But my dumbass sister came marching over like a foot soldier from hell and smacked me hard. Then she yanked off my sunglasses. I probably shouldn’t have been wearing those indoors, but my eyes were the one thing I knew would give me away. I wanted you to want me before you knew who I was.

  What came out of your mouth, little girl, I still remember. “Fuck me.” And I would have gladly obliged had it not been for the forty other people in the room. I’m positive you meant to say it quietly, but somehow I’d heard it bellow clear across the room.

  My lips tilted in amusement as I strolled over to you. You looked nervous and disoriented. From the blush on your cheeks, I knew you were excited. I wondered briefly if you were aroused. I tried to imagine those panties damp with need and wet with want. Getting a hard-on at a wake is never a good thing. When I stood next to you, I could smell the booze. I wanted you sober, but I would take whatever I could get. And what I wanted was to slip my hand between those shapely legs and tease and taunt your clit.

  I demanded to see your bite marks. We were a matched set, our arms side by side. It only made my cock harder and—being so close to you—uncomfortable as hell. God, you smelled so good. Your perfume, mixed with vodka and slick desire, almost pushed me over the edge. I had no doubt you knew it. I could read the indecision written all over your face. It must have been mortifying realizing the man you were eye-fucking was the kid who bit you.

  I towered over you as I leaned in, wanting to get closer. You were intoxicated just enough to be confused. I made sure you knew I went by Andrew now, but hearing the name Shea pass through those bow-shaped lips made me crazy enough to want to change it back. In truth, you and your dad were the only ones who ever called me Shea.

  You couldn’t get away from me fast enough and you ended up bolting like a scared rabbit. I wanted to go after you. Get you somewhere dark so I could taste you—just once. I’d waited for thirteen years to be inside you. Your voice was like a siren’s call. I knew I had to have you. You were my obsession. Now I wanted you as my possession. You were meant to belong to me. No one else’s, just mine.

  ~3~

  When I went back to my apartment that night, I was edgy and irritated—a total dick. I banged Carrie up against the wall before she even took off her shoes. I was kind of rough and anxious. Not traits I normally associate with having sex. But then I saw you. After thirteen years, you were in my reach, and you fucking ran from me. You left me with a hunger only sex could satiate.

  Carrie was the only thing available, and maybe it would be better if you never knew this, but I enjoyed fucking her. She was like a tester unit for new positions and interesting theories. Yeah, I’m being a prick right now. I had to have some feelings for her. I was with her over a year. But, baby, I swear it wasn’t love, just lust.

  I have no idea why I’m even bothering you with this shit. I never asked you about the men you’ve previously slept with, and you never offered the information. Sure, I’d like to know how I compare. But even after I found out you were married to Garrison, I wasn’t worried because I knew what we had was salacious and carnal. Sometimes I can’t even explain how it is between us. There are no words to describe how good you feel when I’m so deeply nestled in you. I once told you if I were dreaming, I hoped I’d die in my sleep. That’s what making love to you is like, Ryan. I can’t imagine a world without you in it. So please, I’m begging you, baby. Wake up for me.

  §

  I sigh and suck in a sob. I absolutely hate this. Telling Ryan my life’s story, which includes so much of her, is like rubbing salt into the wound. I have to relive all of our moments… good and bad. My stomach growls, signaling I should eat or at least try. I am so worn out going to the cafeteria. I wish for delivery.

  “Hey, bud. Snuck this in. Thought you might want some real food.”

  I look up as Cray strolls in carrying a pizza. My stomach gurgles loudly, and for a moment, I think maybe God has heard everything.

  “Hey, Cray. Smells good. Pepperoni?” I ask as my mouth begins to water.

  “Is there any other kind? How’s she doing, Andrew?” he asks as he hands me the box.

  I shake my head. I have to fight to keep my face solemn and the tears back. Being strong when I’m by myself is one thing, but sharing my pain with someone else is tough.

  Cray moves toward me and kneels down.

  “How are you, man? I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but, Andrew, Ryan is resilient. She’s made of strong stock. She will pull thorough. And you know she’ll kick your ass if she sees you like this. No offense, man, but you look like hell and kinda smell like shit.”

  Leave it to Cray. He manages to pull a small smile from me. Fucking asshole. I grab a slice and take a bite. It tastes like cardboard and it’s hard to swallow. I wipe my grease-stained fingers on my jeans.

  “My brain actually hurts. I can’t think. My heart aches. I can’t breathe. My body feels like I’m experiencing paralysis. I can’t lose her. I just can’t,” I say as I toss the half-eaten pizza slice back into the box.

  “I know you’ve gone through worse. This too shall pass.” I watch as Cray pulls another chair toward me and sits. “Did Ryan ever tell you about the night you proposed?”

  Cray is talking about our first Valentine’s Day together when I bared my soul and proposed, only to find out Ryan was already married.

  “You were one pissed-off kid. Not that I blame you. I knew what you felt for Ryan, and finding out the truth the way you did—I’m sure it seemed like betrayal. I told her you’d come around. I knew you’d forgive her. Jesus, Andrew. No one throws away that kind of love.”

  “Well, here’s a truth for you. I’m not sure if I would have forgiven her. But when I found her like that… Well, you know the rest.” I pause to look at Cray. “It wasn’t that he’d fucked her. It was the fact she loved someone else enough to marry them.”

  “Did you think Ryan would be a nun when she left? From what I heard, Mr. Man Whore, you’re hardly in a position to judge.”

  I twist a napkin in my hands as I speak. “Yeah, but I never loved them, and I certainly didn’t marry them.”

  “I wouldn’t be advertising that, Andrew. You sound like an asshole.” Cray chuckles. “The facts are facts regardless of what happened. You two loved each other enough to get past it. You have a daughter now, and soon a son. Don’t let her hear you still carry that bitterness.”

  “So you think she can hear me?” I ask him with hope.

  “Yeah, I think so. Just make sure it’s stuff you would want her to hear. Let her know you’re waiting for her to open her eyes. Don’t let some crap from the past define you, son. No matter what stuff happened, good and bad, it made you who you are. The man she
loves.”

  He gets up and walks over to Ryan’s bed. “Take care, baby girl. I’ll be around when you wake up. Just don’t take long. After all, I am an old man.” He laughs as he pats her arm.

  “If you need anything, food, a break… a shower, just call.”

  “Oh, gee, Cray, are you offering to give me a sponge bath?” I quip.

  He shakes his head as he opens the door. “Eventually someone might have to. Although, if you get anymore ripe, the smell alone might rouse her.”

  “Whatever, old man. I think my scent is manly,” I joke. Saying anything humorous feels so unfamiliar to me. Nothing about all these weeks feels amusing.

  Cray grins as he does a mock salute and closes the door behind him.

  “So now that the dirty old man has left… I punctuate dirty because if he knew what story I was going to tell you next, he’d want to stay.”

  I lean into her bed and take her hand in mine.

  §

  I was shocked when you called me to take you to a store. I was flabbergasted you never learned to drive stick. I laughed at how you defended your decision not to learn. You lived in New York, so why bother? I remember how utterly frustrated you were with your dad’s car.

  God, you looked hot that night. Even wearing that throwback sweater dress, you aroused me and made my jeans extremely snug. Sitting next to you in my Bronco was excruciating when all I wanted to do was fuck you. I still remember how sweet you smelled. I wasn’t sure if it was perfume or shampoo. All I knew was it was driving me crazy. When you said you didn’t want to go home, to take you somewhere, I knew. I have to admit for the first time, I was nervous. I had no idea what to expect or if I should have any expectations at all. My cock thought otherwise. My erection was crammed so tightly against my zipper it was painful.