The Air He Breathes
Page 32

He snickered. “Well, that makes me feel better.”
I laughed. “It should.”
“Well, Emma, if you’re going to call me Tick, I think it’s only right for me to call you Tock!” Tristan smiled.
“Like a clock!” Emma beamed, jumping up and down. “Tick and Tock! Tick and Tock!”
“I think she approves,” I said.
“Elizabeth?” He turned my way with a serious stare.
“Yes?”
“I know we can’t do what we were doing before anymore but, can we be friends?” he asked timidly.
“I thought you didn’t know how to be a friend?”
“I don’t.” He sighed, rubbing his neck. “But I was kind of hoping you could show me.”
“Why me?”
“You believe in good things, even when your heart is broken. And I can’t remember what good things are like.”
That saddened me. “When was the last time you were happy, Tristan?”
He didn’t reply.
That saddened me even more. “Of course we can be friends,” I said.
Everyone deserved at least one friend they could trust with their secrets and fears. With their guilt, with their happiness. Everyone deserved a person who could look into their eyes and say, “You’re enough. You’re perfect, scars and all.” I thought Tristan deserved that more than most, though. In his eyes he held such sadness, such pain, and all I wanted to do was wrap my arms around him and let him know he was good enough.
I didn’t want to be his friend because I felt bad for him, though. No. I wanted his friendship because unlike most, he saw past my own fake happiness and he would sometimes stare at me as if he were saying, “You’re enough, Elizabeth. You’re enough…scars and all.”
Tristan’s eyebrows furrowed and he looked at me as if he was seeing me for the first time. I stared at him as if I would never see him again. Neither of us wanted to blink. The seriousness of the moment started making us both uncomfortable. As he cleared his throat, I cleared mine. “Too much?” I asked.
“Too much indeed. So, on another note…” He ran his hands through his hair. “I noticed a certain Fifty Shades of Grey book in your hands when I last cut the grass.”
My cheeks reddened, and I shoved him. “Don’t judge me, it’s for my book club. Plus, it’s good.”
“I’m not judging. Okay, well, I am. Only a little, though.”
“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.” I smirked.
“Oh? And how much of it have you actually tried?” He gave me a smug look, and I swore my cheeks were on fire.
Snickering, I started walking back toward our houses. “You’re such an ass,” I muttered. “Come on, Emma, let’s get you cleaned up and get you to your sleepover.”
“You’re going the wrong way,” Tristan remarked.
I paused, turned around, and walked past him again, going the opposite way. “You’re still an ass.” I smiled. He smiled back and walked beside me as Emma and Zeus followed our lead.
It was ten-thirty at night when I heard the banging. I dragged myself out of bed to answer the door. Susan was standing there with her arms crossed beside Emma, who was still in her pajamas, holding her overnight bag and Bubba.
“Susan, what’s going on?” I asked, alarm filling me up. “Emma, are you okay?” She didn’t reply; she just stared at the ground, almost embarrassed. I turned back to Susan. “What happened?”
“What happened,” she hissed. “What happened was that your daughter thought it was okay to tell stories about zombies to the rest of the girls, making them all freak out. Now I have ten girls at my house who won’t go to sleep because they’re afraid of nightmares!”
I frowned. “I’m sorry. I’m sure she didn’t mean any harm. I can come over and talk to the girls if you want. I’m sure it’s all a misunderstanding.”
“A misunderstanding?” She huffed. “She started walking like the walking dead and said she wanted to eat brains! You told me she didn’t suffer any trauma from Steven’s death.”
“She didn’t,” I said, anger building in my stomach. I looked down at Emma and saw tears falling from her eyes. Bending down, I pulled her into a hug. “It’s okay, honey.”
“Well, obviously she’s not okay. She needs professional help.”
“Emma, honey, cover your ears really fast,” I said. She did. My insides tightened and I stood tall, facing Susan. “I’m going to say something and I mean this in the nicest way possible. If you say one more thing about my daughter I will literally kick your ass, pull out your hair extensions, and tell your husband that you’ve been screwing the checkout boy at the grocery store.”
“How dare you!” she cried, horrified by my words.
“How dare I? How dare you think it’s appropriate to walk up to me and tell me things about my daughter in such a rude, demeaning fashion? I think it’s time for you to go.”
“I think it is! Perhaps you should stay away from our book club, too. Your energy and life style is toxic to our group. Keep her away from my Rachel,” Susan ordered, walking off.
“Don’t worry,” I shouted. “I will!” There was something that happened to the sanest people when others talked about their children: you turned into a beast and would do anything and everything to protect your children from the wolves of the world. I wasn’t proud of the words I’d said to Susan, but from the bottom of my heart, I meant every single one.
I walked Emma into the living room and we sat down. “Mama, the girls said I was a freak because I liked zombies and mummies. I don’t want to be a freak.”
“You’re not a freak,” I promised, pulling her closer to me. “You’re perfect the way you are.”
“Then why did they say that?” she asked.
“Because…” I sighed, trying to find the right answer. “Because sometimes others have a hard time embracing people’s differences. You know that zombies aren’t real, right?” She nodded. “And you didn’t try to scare the other girls, did you?”
“No!” she said quickly. “I just wanted them to play with me as the characters from Hotel Transylvania. I didn’t want to scare them. I just wanted to have friends.”