We Only Breathe For So Long

“Are you kidding me?” I asked Greg with a solemn expression. He shook his head ‘no’ slowly. “Eric was found ten miles away. Wherever that is, that’s probably where he got hurt.”

Everything began to make more sense, but I still didn’t quite grasp the concept of it all. Greg didn’t say anything else after that, he remained quiet as if he had said something he wasn’t meant to say. I looked at him, giving him the death stare, knowing there was more from where it came from.

“Spill it.” I ordered. Whatever he was holding back, it could be important to finding out how Eric came close to seeing the light in the end of the tunnel.

No reply. Greg avoided eye contact, looking at everything except me. “Give me the address. We need to go to Eric’s place. Real place, as you like to emphasize it.”

“I-uhh, don’t know it by head, but I’ll text it to you later.”

His response wasn’t what I had expected, but I had to content myself with it. I took the last sip of my Caribbean Mocha while Eric and Greg finished their Quesadilla. Within 20 minutes, we had paid the bill and walked out to the parking lot.

“Thanks for the invite,” Greg hugged me, messing my hair with random motions of his hands, “I’ll text you later.” He said that not only to me, but also to Eric. It was a good sign. Eric would have someone to talk to besides me. I’m pretty sure he was tired of me being around him the whole time.

Once Greg could be seen far into the horizon, Eric and I started walking back home. It was close to noon, the sun had finally appeared out of the clouds but the temperature was still bellow zero. With my hands shoved inside my pocket and no words spoken between us, we walked back home in silence―not the awkward one I witnessed back at the coffee shop― it was a comfortable silence.



Hours went by and Greg hasn’t texted me the address yet. I was dying to see this house, and I wouldn't believe it to be true until I saw it with my very own eyes. The secrecy about it made me want to know about it more than I should’ve wanted to. It was just a house. But still, it was one of Eric’s secrets.

Apparently nobody but Greg knew about the ‘Safe Ground,’ as he calls it, not even his sister. Curiosity was crawling all over my skin and making me itch, while Jane, Eric and I played Scrabble in the living room.

“And that’s 49 points for me!” Jane said enthusiastically.

This was the closest to excited that Jane has been during the entire week. Eric laughed in amusement at her excitement, she was kicking our butts with scores I never thought could be reached. She had managed to get 160 points with the word ‘doorbell.’

“Do you read the dictionary as a hobby?” I asked her, managing to get a giggle out of her and Eric.

“You’re all just jealous of my success!” she pointed her manicured fingers at us.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, and without a second thought I ran my fingers through the pocket to take it, hoping it was the address.

I’m picking you up at 8pm, even if I have to drag you to the car. – J

I rolled my eyes at the screen, smiling faintly at his comment. I didn’t reply back, knowing I wouldn’t be able to change his mind. Minutes later, I received another text, thinking it was John pressing me to reply him back.

41 Dean Street, Garmion.

Bingo.

“Eric, don’t you wanna go for a walk? There’s a great ice cream place in town.” I asked him in a voice that didn’t belong to me, making my eyes wide on purpose so he could understand what I really meant. I jerked my head sideways, pointing to the door.

“Um, yeah. Let’s go!” he jumped out of the couch, grabbing his coat and putting it on, along with his gloves.

“Jane, do you mind if I borrow your car?” I asked with an angelic smile pressed to my lips. I didn’t like doing this behind her back, but I had to.

She nodded her head in agreement. We rushed to the front; I hopped in the driver’s seat as fast as I could, not being able to control my anxiety any longer. I fastened my seat belt and switched on the ignition as the motor of Jane’s Mini Cooper roared to life. Eric seemed uncomfortable in the passenger’s seat because there was little room for his long, muscular frame.

“We’re going to my house, right?” he asked, just making sure he had gotten the signal.

“Yeah,” I confirmed.

“It’s pretty messed up for someone to have a secret house. Why would I need two houses?” he frowned, thinking it was absurd.

“We’ll soon find out,” I said, my eyes glued to the road.

The rest of our mini trip was silent. I was formulating scenarios in my head, trying to picture how this house looked like. I didn’t doubt that Eric was probably doing the same himself. I wasn’t only anxious, but also scared. I didn’t know what to expect. What if he ended up being a murderer and that’s the place where he kept and buried his victims?

You’re being ridiculous, I thought to myself.

Twenty minutes later, I pulled the car by the sidewalk right in front of the house numbered 41. I looked at the house, and back to my phone where Greg’s text was opened. I started to wonder if he had given me the right house number but I doubted he would mess it up.

In front of us, lay a beautiful house. It was definitely upper class, but not as enormous as a mansion. It was fairly big, mostly white, and in the opened garage a black BMW motorbike was parked. High walls surrounded the house, just like in the movies when you saw an important person’s house. A garden, which could have been passed as the Eden garden itself, lay past the front Iron Gate. It was a breath-taking work of architecture.

Eric stared at the house astonished. “I didn’t know I was rich.”

I tried to keep my mouth closed. “I didn’t know that either.”