Breathe for Me (12 page)

I nod, embarrassed. Knowing how ridiculous I must sound, how impossible this story must be for him to believe. If I were him, I'd call me a crazy liar and storm out of the apartment. Gone forever.

“Can you prove it?” he asks. His voice is cautious, not overly warm, but he's not shutting me out.

“Well, if I touch something living, I'll burn it.” I shove my sleeve up my arm. “Feel my skin if you want, but do it quickly. It's like touching a stove top.”

He stares at me for a long moment, and I can almost see the internal debate. Finally, one eyebrow raised, he glances a bare finger across my skin, hissing in surprise as he pulls it away. His jaw drops, and he blinks. “It's impossibly hot.”

I give a sad nod as I tug the sleeve back into place. “I'm sorry.” I pause. “You actually saw Sitri at the library the other day, even if you didn't know who he was at the time.”

Dominic stands. “I see.” His gaze is hooded. He gets up and moves to the kitchen, turning on the faucet and thrusting his finger under the stream of water.

“I'm so sorry,” I say again, trying to let the urgency of my emotions come through in my voice. “I just…I can't tell anyone the truth about me. I don't want to hurt anyone. That's why I bundle up, even in the summertime. I want people to be safe.”

He shuts off the water, shakes the excess from his hand, then crosses his arms. “Why go to school, then? Why not just stay hidden away? That doesn't make sense if all of this is true.”

“Because I want to be around people. As long as I keep covered, no one will get hurt. And I don't kiss anyone or get kissed, so there's no danger there. I—” Tears sting the backs of my eyes again, steal my words. I swallow once, twice, and press the heels of my hands to my eyes. “I get so lonely by myself, and I don't have anyone else to talk to. I just needed to…I needed to…”

And then he's in front of me, stroking my sleeved upper arms. “Don't cry. This is just…this is a little bit much to swallow at once. How do I know you're not just crazy about the…demon stuff? Or a pathological liar? Or that you have some kind of weird, rare disease that makes your skin feel like a furnace?”

I stare into his eyes, blinking away my tears. “You don't. Not for sure. The only thing you can do is trust my words.” I stop for a moment, realizing the enormity of what I'm asking. “But if you can't,” I rush to continue, “it's totally understandable. I'm not sure
I
would, if I were in your shoes.”

His eyes are wide, no longer hooded from me. He stares into mine for what feels like an eternity. Then, he nods. “Honestly, I'm not sure what I believe, but I see that
you
believe it's true.”

Not full acceptance, but not a total rejection either. “That's perfectly understandable.” The next words trip off my tongue. “And now that you know, I have to ask you to—”

“Don't worry, I promise not to tell anyone at school. Not that they'd believe me anyway, but your…secret is safe with me.”

It's a start, an assurance. It's more than I'd hoped for, and I cling to it. “Thank you for not outright rejecting me.”

He slips his hands down the lengths of my arms to my covered wrists and squeezes. “I can't promise that I understand or that I believe. But I'm here to help you.” He bites his lip. “How much time do you have left?”

“I still have a little bit of time.” My voice is just a whisper, the words tearing at my throat. I can't tell him that Sitri's hinting the end is near. I can't risk pushing him away, as selfish as it seems. So I leave my answer vague, hopeful.

He grips my wrists tighter. “I don't want you to go.”

“Me neither,” I say. I want to tell him I'm trying to find a way to stay, but it would be terrible for me to get his hopes up if I can't figure out a solution.

I press my cheek against his chest, and he envelops me in his arms, careful not to touch my bare skin. We stand like this for a long time, the lengths of our bodies brushing each other, sharing the rises and falls of our chests.

At school the next morning, I find Samantha by her locker. Oddly enough, I'm filled with a cautious optimism I haven't had in so long. Not only do I feel lighter having told Dominic my secret, but Sitri left me alone last night. I was able to lie in bed for hours by myself, replaying the whole evening in my head over and over. Still smelling Dominic's cologne on my hair, my clothes.

Dominic doesn't know what to believe, but he'll see I'm telling the truth. He didn't instantly run away last night. He stayed and even comforted me. That means something; I know it does. I cling to the hope stirring in my heart.

Samantha closes her locker and glances up at me, then freezes. She looks odd as she scrutinizes me closely.

I stop, feeling a sudden panic. “What's wrong?”

A grin breaks her face. “You look like you're in love, Isabel.”

“That's because…I think I'm falling for him,” I say. Excitement spills from my voice. I can't get Dominic out of my head. I'm eager and scared to see him today, praying he didn't change his mind about me after having the night to think things over, too.

Praying he still likes me as much as I do him.

With huge eyes, she claps a hand over her mouth. “Oh, my God,” she says, her voice muffled but her squeaky enthusiasm still evident. “That's awesome!”

We walk down the hallway toward my locker. “I can't stop thinking about him,” I admit to her.

She nods. “I feel the same way about Rick. Oh, my God, we have to do a double date!” she cries out. “This will be the best ever. We can do all kinds of fun fall events and even start planning what we're going to wear to the homecoming dance!”

I swallow, and my gaze skitters across the floor in front of me. I want to be excited about the dance, but that dark voice in my head reminds me it's not until end of September. And if I can't break this curse, I'll likely be gone by then.

No, I'm not going down that road right now. Because last night, not only did I think about Dominic, I stirred up my courage to outright ask Sitri to free me. I'm willing to risk it all—for Samantha, for Dominic and, most importantly, for myself. I've found a home, and I'm not giving it up without trying. Sitri has been kind and generous recently; surely he'll be open to talking about it.

A growing part of me wants to tell Samantha the truth. How will she take it? Will she be repulsed? Pull away from me?

After the plan works—I can tell her then, when my life is no longer at Sitri's command. I just have to trust in our friendship. She deserves that from me.

I force a grin on my face. “You'd better head to class,” I say to her just as the bell rings. “You're going to get a detention if you're late again.”

Samantha gives my upper arm a light pinch. “Yes,
Mom
.” With a light skip, she heads down the hallway.

I lean against the locker right beside mine and watch her go. Everything is so wonderful and scary and overwhelming, and I want more of this reality.

I tug out my Algebra II book and head to class, pushing back the twinge of panic that numbs my limbs as soon as I step across the threshold. Mr. Morris isn't back yet, so we have a substitute. After making my way back to my seat, I unload my notebook and book, my hands shaking. I press them onto the top of the desk to try to steady them.

Becky, Alexis's friend, glances back at me. “How ya doin'?” she asks, her voice warm with empathy.

Normally, I would just nod and mumble something in reply. But I'm determined to make more of an effort with people, especially since they're making an effort with me. “Doing okay. Just glad Mr. Morris is hanging in there. I was really scared.” I still can't get his pale, waxen face out of my mind.

Alexis snorted. “No kidding. Maybe this will teach him to mellow out.”

“Hopefully he'll get off your backs now,” I offer. “And stop being so stressed, too.”

They both smile at me, then turn toward the front of the class when the substitute calls for our attention.

It's hard concentrating on what he's saying because I'm glowing on the inside. People are accepting me, quirks and all. Even if I'm always stuck with the touching curse, I can make a go of it here. I love this city. I want the chance to stay.

It has to happen.

chapter nine

I
CAN'T
SLEEP
.

The heat is oppressive beyond usual on Wednesday night, and I lie in bed well past midnight, willing myself to doze in spite of the temperature. My air conditioner feels like it's not working hard enough, and even though I'm resting on top of my bed in only a tank top and my underwear, my body won't stop sweating. The only real downside to New Orleans—hot, sticky summer nights.

I slip into a pair of thin knit shorts and pad across the floor to the patio doors, sliding them open. A soft breeze slips inside—it's still a little too warm for my tastes, but at least the air is moving, which is an improvement over the apartment right now. No one else is stirring around me at the moment; most windows are dark, and I can hear air conditioning units whirring, combating the heat.

I step out, then sit on the chair and gaze into the coal-black sky peppered with fiery white stars. The moon looks so far away right now.

Whenever Jane and I got a chance on warm nights during the summer, we used to wait until our parents fell asleep to sneak out of our room, walking on the very tips of our toes, creaking the thick wooden front door open so slowly that it took forever to create a gap wide enough for us to slip through.

Then we'd run for the nearby field, where we'd collapse on the soft, plush grass and stare up at the sky for what felt like hours.

Most times we'd whisper about whatever came to mind. Worries we had about our parents. The changes our bodies were going through. Crushes on handsome boys we saw during public gatherings and festivals. Places we wanted to visit when we were finally adults and free of the shackles of childhood.

But sometimes, sometimes we'd simply stay silent, holding hands, letting the expansive firmament and bright globe of a moon speak for us.

My throat closes up again as I stare at the sky. Remembering her makes my chest ache sometimes, but it's how I keep her alive. There's just some part of my brain that can't accept she's been dead and gone for several hundreds of years. And it always makes me wonder—what happened to my family after Sitri took me away? Did Jane get married, have babies of her own? Did she ever get to leave our small town?

I'll never have answers, I know. But sometimes I like to make them up in my head, giving her a full and amazing life that lasted well into late adulthood. That maybe she used my absence as an excuse to break away from our parents, find her own adventures, do all those things we whispered about on that hill in the dark.

Maybe Jane took a trip to the ocean, which she always wanted to see, and dipped her toes in the salty cold water. She would shiver in glee, gaining courage and digging her feet into the gritty sand, letting the waves lap at her ankles. After that, she toured Egypt and ran her fingers along the golden bricks of the pyramids. And maybe once Jane got her fill of all the explorations she could handle, she found a man who was worthy of her love. A true equal, not a persecutor like Mr. Baker, who would have treated me as little more than a slave.

A pang of guilt flares up again, and I shift in my seat and fold my legs up, wrapping my arms just below my knees. If I'd stayed, I'd know what happened to Jane instead of having to make up stories. I wouldn't have to guess or worry.

And yet, there's a deep-down part of me that knows what happened to her, regardless of what I try to pretend. Something in my gut tells me Mr. Baker wouldn't let our family go so quickly, not when our parents had promised to provide him a wife. It's probable he thought Jane would serve as a suitable substitute in my absence.

The thought that she had to have sex with him, make more of his babies, work her fingers to the bone day in and out to keep his house, the light in her eyes dimming as the years wore on…

I choke back a small cry and drop my forehead onto my knees. “I'm sorry, Jane,” I whisper.
Sorry I left you behind to God only knows what fate. You deserved so much better than that
.

After a few minutes, I sniffle and swipe a hand across my face. My remorse can't change the past.
Jane, I'll make you proud of me
, I think to myself as I unfold my body and head back into the apartment, leaving the balcony doors open. If Dominic decides to believe what I told him, I'll work hard to not shut myself off from people anymore. Jane would tell me to trust in others. I'll try to trust in him.

I stretch out on the couch and, with the warm breezes swirling about the room, finally fall asleep.