We Only Breathe For So Long

The morning and afternoon went by as fast as the blink of an eye. One minute I was being awakened by screams of pain, the next minute I was laughing so much, I began to crouch and hold my stomach, trying to hold the tears back.

For a couple of heartbeats, it felt as if Eric hadn’t lost his memory at all, he still had his sense of humor intact and his laughter just brought me more comfort the louder it got. But after all the questions asked and laughter echoed through the air, reality made sure to remind me of its presence.

The pointer of his bedroom wall clock was pointing at five pm and here I was - escaping all my responsibilities and crawling into a guy’s bed instead of my own. I didn’t remember the last time I’ve been home but I know it wasn’t that long ago. I didn’t even bother to tell Angela or Ronnie I’d be going out.

“I should probably get going,” I told him before my head even touched his pillow. “I’ll be back later.”

“Promise?” he asked. He didn’t want to be alone and if I were him, I wouldn’t want to be alone either.

“Promise,” I smiled softly, covering him with the blanket that was crumpled all over his feet. “When I come back, you better be in bed Mister.” I switched off the lights and closed the door behind me. Jane was nowhere to be found, so I took the liberty to take a sticky note, write her a message and leave it by the kitchen’s door.

I didn’t tell anyone at home I’d be staying here, better warn them. I’ll be back in the evening. He’ll be okay. - K

The minute I stepped out of their cozy home, the awfully cold atmosphere embraced me. My teeth began to shatter against one another and I rubbed my palms against my arm frantically, attempting to provide myself warmth.

Sundays were the days where there was no miscommunication at home. All members of the Manson family were under the same roof since Ronnie didn’t have to work, Angela had the day off, Sophie didn’t have school and neither did I. We all knew what each other would be doing throughout the day and nobody never really left home. Well, except today.

I took my phone out of my pocket, twisting my body to try to get through all the layers of clothes, and checked the time once more.

5:07.

I was praying to heavens that they decided to go out or they didn’t notice I was gone yet. But that was very unlikely to happen.

Three minutes later, I made a quick run towards my front door, padding my coat’s pockets to find my house keys. It was on the right-hand side pocket. I took it out, the metal cold against my fingertips, and placed it inside the door lock. With two full turns of the key, the door unclicked and I stepped into the main hall.

All four eyes were on me.

Ronnie had his phone on his ear, most likely calling my silenced phone. Angela had worry written all over her face. Sophie was chewing her gum restlessly. And John was pacing back and forth, removing his hands from his pockets only to rub the back of his neck.

The minute they saw me, sighs of relief filled the silent room.

“Oh, thank God!” Angela exclaimed, running towards me and pulling me into a hug. “Where have you been, Kylie? We’ve been so worried about you!”

“I-uhhh,” I began to speak, not knowing what to say or how to explain everything that was happening.

John’s green eyes locked with mine as he removed his hands from his pockets and pulled his beanie down, sighing in relief too.

With all eyes still on me, I realized Eric wasn’t the only valid excuse that kept me from staying home. I couldn’t handle coming home right now because this would happen. I would probably stay in my room, too sad to do anything and questions would arouse. I wouldn’t be able to answer them with a smile because I’d eventually break down, crying in front of everyone.

Whenever something stressed me or made me frustrated, I would cry. If that meant I wasn’t strong, then yeah, I wasn’t strong. But I was strong enough to keep a straight face in front of others, at least. In this situation, no matter what I did, chances were I would end up crying like a baby.

Before I could say anything that could offer them some sort of explanation, I found my feet walking fast through the wooden floor as the back of my hand wiped the tears falling down my face.

Nobody dared to move, they didn’t know whether they should do something or nothing at all. I closed my bedroom door, throwing myself on my bed, hugging my pillow with all my strength and letting the tears flow through. I wanted to stop because I didn’t want to get my pillow wet. But I couldn’t. The more I tried, the more I cried.

It felt like all that nostalgia and happy moments shared under this same roof had happened centuries ago, when in fact, it happened less than 24 hours ago. All my predictions, emotions and thoughts were wrong. But one thing remained right: life never missed its cue. Everything was fine, and now it was all falling apart as if a tornado had invaded my life and I was caught up in the wind along with broken things.

Because Kylie Manson’s life is always like that, I thought. Perfection comes, and bitterness follows it.

Through my sobs, I heard the door being knocked. I knew everyone was worried but I didn’t have the desire to put their worries to rest since I wouldn’t be able to say a word after so many tears. I didn’t trust my voice to tell whoever was knocking on the door to go away.

“Kylie,” his hoarse voice spoke. He knocked softly after a pause, waiting for my reply because he was probably afraid to come in himself. John turned the door handle and a squeaky noise submerged from it.

“Please, don’t.” I tried to breath evenly so I could stop sobbing. “The last thing I need is for you to see me like this.”

I heard his slow, carefully stepped footsteps getting closer to me as the sound of his leather boots stomped louder with each step he took.

He sat on the other side of my bed, his weight sinking the mattress in a little, with my back facing him. I didn’t dare to move and my sobs were lessoned now. I rubbed my coat’s sleeve all over my face to dry the tears and I breathed slowly for a count of 18 mississippis.

He kicked his shoes off of his feet and onto the floor, crawling through the bed until his arms tangled around my body, pulling me up a little so I could rest my head on his chest. He rocked slowly, back and forth, playing with my hair as he hummed some kind of melody.

I felt better, almost instantly, so I just accepted his presence without protesting any further.

He kissed the top of my head. “What happened?” he whispered, laying his cheek on my head.

I wanted for six more counts before I replied to his answer. The sobbing ceased, and the tears were almost all dried up, leaving only my puffy red eyes behind. “It’s Eric,” my voice was barely audible, “he was caught up in an accident, he’s so-” I stopped myself from finishing my sentence. My nose was burning in the inside, as the lump on my throat got bigger. “Uhh,” I itched my nose, trying to shake the feeling away. “He’s not doing very well. He’s home already, looking more broken than alive.”

John pulls me a little sideways, tilting his head so he could look me in the eyes. “He’ll be OK. He’s a strong guy, he’ll heal fast.” Nothing but sympathy was found in his eyes. The corners of his mouth lifted a bit, trying to reassure me it would all be all just fine.

I turned my body position, lying sideways against his body and resting my head and hand on his chest. “I know he will, but it’s not that.”

“What’s the matter then?” His pierce green eyes stared at me in search of a clear answer. He pushed some of the fallen hairs, that were resting all over my face, backwards, stroking it softly with his long fingers.

I buried my face on his leather jacket, exhaling and inhaling his fragrance. “You can’t heal memory loss as fast as physical parts.”

There was a long pause.

“Man,” he sighed in disbelief. He pulled me in closer, holding my head against his chest as his fingers stroked my hair.

My heavy eyelids refused to stay opened any longer. I hugged his skinny waist and closed my eyes; slowly fading away the more he stroked my hair and hummed a brand new lullaby.



I woke up with a start. It was evening already. Outside my window, all that could be seen was the moon’s reflection on the piles of snow and the darkness that surrounded it.

I stormed out of bed, stumbling over the darkness, and entered my closet. I picked up a duffel bag, shoving some sweatpants and hoodies in it along with my toiletries found in the bathroom.

John, who had also been asleep, woke up with my sudden movement and noise. His eyes were blinking wildly, searching the room to discover where the noise was coming from. “Where are you going?” his hoarse voice spoke.

“Eric’s house. Will you please tell everyone I’m fine and that I’ll be back tomorrow or something?”

He nodded his head, too tired to speak again.

I took a scarf and rolled it around my neck. I quickly searched the room while I put on another coat, wondering if I had forgotten anything before I could leave.

“You need rest, Kylie.” I saw his lanky frame stand a little through the darkness. “He can do just fine without you for one night.”

I ignored him, holding my duffel bag and rushing towards the door.

“I miss you,” he whispered. I turned around, knowing he hadn’t finished speaking. “You were in my arms minutes ago, but I feel as if you’ve been miles away.” He dropped his gaze to the floor, fiddling with his hands. “Please stay?” he whispered, tilting his head an inch, not daring to look at me.

My heart ached and my feet felt like lead. I didn’t want to leave him here, on his own, all alone.

“I can’t.”