Ten Tiny Breaths
Page 7

The words ‘new friends’ is all it takes. Mia steps out from behind her mother’s legs and wanders into our apartment, dragging a faded yellow fleece blanket behind her. At first she simply takes in our place, likely investigating for hints about her new ‘friends.’ When her eyes finally rest on Livie, they don’t shift again.
Livie drops to her knees to meet Mia face to face, a giant grin stretching her lips. “I’m Livie.”
Mia holds up her blanket, her face serious. “This is Mr. Magoo. He’s my friend.” Now that she’s talking, I can see a giant gap where she’s lost her two front teeth. She’s instantly that much cuter.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Magoo.” Livie squeezes the fabric between her thumb and index finger, mock-shaking its hand. Livie must have passed the Mr. Magoo test because Mia grabs her arm and tugs her out the door. “Come meet my other friends.” They disappear into Storm’s apartment, leaving Storm and I alone.
“You guys aren’t from around these parts.” It’s a statement, not a question. I hope she leaves it at that. “Have you been here long?” Storm’s evaluating eyes float over our sparse living room, much like her daughter’s had, hanging over a framed picture of us with my parents on the living room wall. Livie pulled it off Aunt Darla’s family room wall as we ran out the door.
I silently admonish Livie for hanging it up there for all to see, to ask questions, even though I have no right to. There are a few times when Livie digs her heels in. That’s one of them. If it were up to me, it’d be in Livie’s room where I can work up to visiting it occasionally.
It’s just too hard for me to look at their faces.
“Just a few days. Isn’t it homey?”
Storm’s mouth curves into a smirk at my attempt at humor. Livie and I ransacked the local Dollarama for some basic necessities. Aside from that and the family picture, the only thing we’ve added is the scent of bleach in place of mothballs.
Storm nods, folding her arms over her chest as if to ward off a chill. There is no chill. Miami is hot, even at six a.m. “It’s what works for now, right? That’s all we can ask for,” she says softly. Somehow I get the feeling she’s talking about more than the apartment.
There’s a squeal of delight next door and Storm laughs. “Your sister’s good with kids.”
“Yeah, Livie has some sort of magnetic power over them. No kid can resist her. Back home she volunteered at our local daycare a lot. I’m sure she’ll have at least twelve of her own.” I lean in for a mock whisper behind my hand. “Wait ’til she learns what she needs to do with boys for that to happen.”
Storm chuckles softly. “I’m sure she’ll learn soon enough. She’s striking. How old is she?”
“Fifteen.”
She nods slowly. “And you? You in college?”
“Me?” I heave a sigh, fighting the urge to clam up. She’s asking a lot of personal questions about us. I hear Livie's voice inside my head. Try … “No, I’m working right now. School will come later. Maybe in another year or two.” Or ten. I’ll make sure Livie’s set up before me, that’s for sure. She’s the one with a bright future ahead of her.
There’s a long pause as we’re both lost in our own thoughts. “It’s what works for now, right?” I echo her earlier words and I see an understanding in those blue eyes, thinly veiling her own dark closet of skeletons.
Stage Two ~ Denial
Chapter Three
I wander half-asleep into the kitchen to find Livie and Mia at the little dining table, playing Go Fish.
“Good morning!” Livie sings.
“Good morning!” Mia mimics.
“It’s like eight a.m.” I mutter as I grab the cheap jug of OJ I splurged on the other day from the fridge.
“How was work?” Livie asked.
I take a giant gulp right from the jug. “Shit.”
There’s a sharp gasp and I find Mia’s short finger stabbing the air in my direction. “Kacey just said a naughty word!” she whispers.
I cringe as I catch Livie’s unimpressed glare. “I get one, okay?” I say, looking for a way to excuse myself. I’ll have to watch my language if Mia’s going to be hanging around.
Mia’s head cocks to one side, likely considering my logic. Then, like any good five year old’s limited attention span, my heinous infraction is quickly forgotten. She smiles and announces, “You guys are coming over for brunch. Not breakfast and not lunch.”
Now it’s my turn to glare at Livie. “Are we now?”
Lowering her brow, Livie gets up and comes to my side. “You said you’d try,” she reminds me in a low whisper so Mia doesn’t overhear.
“I said I’d be nice. I didn’t say I’d swap muffin recipes with the neighbors,” I respond, trying hard not to growl.
I get an eye roll. “Stop being dramatic. Storm’s cool. I think you’ll like her if you’d stop avoiding her. And all other living creatures.”
“I’ll have you know I’ve graciously served over a thousand cups of coffee this week to living creatures. Some questionable ones too.”
Crossing her arms, Livie’s glare flattens, but she doesn’t say anything.
“I’m not avoiding people.” Yes, I am. Everyone, including Barbie. And Dimples next door. Definitely him. I’m sure I’ve spotted his lean frame watching out the window as I came home at night a few times, but I ducked my head and sped past, my insides constricting at the thought of seeing him face to face again.
“Really? ’Cause Storm sure thinks you are. She came out to talk to you the other day, and you rushed into the apartment like lightning before she could say ‘hi.’”
I hide behind another sip of juice. Busted. I totally did that. I heard her door unlock and the beginnings of a “Hello, Kacey,” and I hurried to shut our apartment door.
“I am like lightning. Lightning Girl has a nice ring to it,” I say.
Livie watches as I scan the meager contents of our fridge and my stomach protests with a perfectly-timed growl. We agreed to spend as little as possible until I had a pay check or two in the bank so we’ve been living off no-name Cheerios and bologna sandwiches for more than a week. Given I need more calories than the average twenty year old to function, it’s left me sluggish. I guess offering to feed us earns Storm at least five points in the potential friend bank.
My tongue slides over my top teeth. “Fine.”
Livie’s face brightens. “That’s a yes?”
I shrug, acting nonchalant. Inside, panic is rising. Livie’s getting too attached to these people. Attachments are bad. Attachments lead to hurt. I make a face. “As long as she’s not making bologna.”
She giggles and I know it’s more than my lame joke. She knows I’m trying, and that makes her happy.
I change the subject. “How’s your new school, by the way?” I’d worked the afternoon shift all week so we haven’t talked once, besides a few kitchen counter notes.
“Oh … right.” Livie’s face pales like she’s seen a ghost. She reaches for her backpack, with a glance back to see Mia busy playing her own card game at the table. “I checked my email account at school,” she explains as she hands me a piece of paper.