Learning to Breathe

“You took me to a coffee shop?” I ask hesitantly as I look around at the mix-matched furniture and completely random décor. There seemed to be no theme for the shop. Like the owner couldn’t decide what to go with so they just chose everything. It made me smile.
“This, dear Taralynn, is much more than just any coffee shop. This is The IC. Inspiration Central.”
I raised my eyebrow and met his gaze evenly.
“Fine. The IC actually means the Inland Cappuccino. But that’s super boring right?” Spencer began, looking at me for clarification. I gave him a confused nod. “Exactly. Super boring. And we aren’t even Inland, so it really just sucks overall. Which is probably why they just started calling it ‘The IC’. But back to why I brought you here to Inspiration Central….” He waved his hand across his chest motioning at the peacefully empty-save for one barista who was completely ignoring us- café. “Ryan mentioned that you’re a writer.” I felt my cheeks prickle with heat. I never really liked calling myself that. It seemed too presumptuous.
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Perfect. So I wanted to take you here, because there’s a reason that I call it Inspiration Central, you know. And that reason is that back when I used to dabble in poetry…Shut up, Tara.” I let out a soft chuckle, not being able to see Spencer Smith, standing here with his leather jacket and almost-beard sitting around writing poetry. “As I was saying…” He mock glared at me. “Back when I dabbled and failed, as I’m sure you’ve guessed, in poetry, I’d come here, put on some music and everything would just sort of come to me. This place is just very…”
“Inspirational?” I guessed. He just kind of chuckled and shook his head at me.
“I was going to say magical. Geez Tara. You’re so lame.”
“Well excuse me Mr. Inspiration Central.” I laughed, looking up at the many different posters covering every inch of the walls.
“Anyways, I just thought I’d share my secret hideaway. I’m sure your writing is much better than mine.”
“Thanks, Spencer, that’s really nice. I just don’t think I’m going to be doing much writing while I’m here.”
“Oh. Well I mean, that’s fine, I’m sure it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. Most people don’t even give it a chance because it’s not Starbucks you know? But the coffee is the best around, even without staying and writing.”
“I don’t mean that I won’t be writing here.” I pointed at the ground. “I mean, just a general sense. Here.” I motioned my hand around us completely. “California.”
“Is the knowledge that some of the best writers ever came from California too much for you to handle?” He teased.
“Nah, I’m just in a bit of a slump. Let’s call it writer’s block.”
“Wanna talk about it?” He asked, motioning that I follow him to the counter where he ordered us each the “House Special” which I’m sure is just fancy café talk for a coffee.
When he turned back and motioned for me to pick a table I went straight for the dark wooden end table at the very back with two worn down chairs on either side. I went back and sat down in the older looking chair against the wall with a simple yellow throw blanket across it and sat down.
“Now tell me about your problems.” Spencer joked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table.
“It’s just…” And then it happened, old Tara came to the surface and just let everything go. She’s such a blabbermouth, that girl. “My character just went through this huge, life-changing thing. And it. It ruined everything, what she thought about herself, what she thought about the world in general. What she had planned for her life, how she thought she was going to live. This thing, it just. It ruined everything for her. So she decided she needed to get away right? Start fresh? At least escape for a little while, because she knew she couldn’t run away forever. So she. She goes to, um.” I looked up at him and he was listening intently, nodding for me to go on. I glanced behind his head and saw The Beatle’s Abbey Road poster right above him. “London. She uh, she goes on a vacation to London. And that’s where I’m stuck. I don’t know what she’s going to find in London that will make anything better for her, or why every time I think about her and want to change something in her life, I just….end up stuck. She’s not going anywhere or doing anything. I don’t know what London has to offer her. She was so happy. I mean, happy enough. She hated where she lived, but she was making the best of it. She went to church every Sunday, prayed every night, gave to the needy. She was finally figuring everything out. Finally starting to get happy. And then this thing comes and ruins everything for her. So now she’s in London and I’m stuck. What the hell does a girl that’s as broken as her find in a place like California?”
“You mean London?” Spencer asked quietly as I finished. I gulped.
“Yeah, I mean London.” I muttered, looking down at my hands.
The waitress came by with our coffees and sat them down in front of us with a sweet smile. “Enjoy.” She grinned and twirled back behind the counter, her yellow dress swaying behind her and contrasting with her bright red hair.
I looked at the mugs and grabbed mine, noticing the image of two kittens in a basket on it, and Spencer’s with a picture of the Statue of Liberty on it. Strange place. I took a sip as Spencer looked back up at me, having been thoughtfully gazing at his folded hands since the waitress came by.
My taste buds exploded as the best coffee I have ever tasted slipped down my throat. This tiny little hole-in-the-wall coffee shop whose name didn’t even make sense brewed this? Wow. I took another gulp, burning my tongue and wincing at the same time that Spencer began to talk.
“What’s her name?” He asked, tilting his head. I just stared at him. “Your character.”
“Oh. Um….” I looked back up at the poster, my eyes landing on Paul McCartney’s bare feet. “Jude. Her name is Jude.”
He grinned slightly, covering it up as he took a small drink of his coffee. “And what is Jude looking for in London?”
“Good question.”
“No, I mean. You sent her there. As the writer of Jude’s life…you chose for her to pack up and take a vacation all the way in California-“
“London.”
“Right. London. I just mean….you put her there. In London. Why? What is she looking for? Why make her leave at all if there isn’t something for her on the other side?”
Something told me neither of us were talking about “Jude” anymore.
“She needed to escape. Start fresh. New people, new surroundings, she just needed to get out.”
“Make her meet someone.”
“What?”
“Or multiple someone’s. Either a group of people, or even just one person in London that she can trust and that she opens up to and shares her fears and feelings about her lost opportunities. Have them show her everything London has to offer her, have them show her new opportunities and….I don’t know, aliens, a dead body, a unicorn…..love. Whatever genre you’re going for. Have these characters, or the one character be something that changes her, maybe even helps fix her. I mean you can’t write a book with only the one character, can you?”
“You make a good point, Spencer Smith.”

***
“You love him.”
“You know, after having shared a womb, and a room for most of our lives, you’d think that you might know me just a little by now.” I said, turning up the music Ashlynn and I had playing through the small stereo she brought.
The effort was pointless as she reached over to turn it back down, grinning at me.
“You can fool anyone you want, T. But not me. I do know you. And you totally love him.”
I looked at her hopeful expression and saw that she just wanted me to move on and be happy. But it wasn’t exactly that easy, and she didn’t seem to understand that. I’m not the same girl I was last year. I can hardly even remember her anymore. Her optimistic way of seeing the good in everyone disgusts me now. Because now I realize that the bad in people usually outweighs the good. Now I’m not some love-struck 16-year-old who thought her life was finally starting to pull together. I’m realistic, I’m stronger. “I’m not capable of love.” I said, looking her straight in the eyes. I slowly saw her grin fade away as she came to the realization that I was not joking and was not going to giggle with her about how emo that sounded.
I don’t want to ruin her happy, light-hearted attitude about life, she’s good that way. She can stay blissfully unaware of the evils of this world, I can protect her. I just can’t share that frame of mind with her anymore. I’ve changed. Grown.
“I hope everyone is dressed! We’re coming in.” Brendon announced and opened the door.
Jon was standing with him and smacked him upside the head. “You’re so rude. What if they weren’t? Sorry ladies.”
I forced a smile and nodded. “Not a problem. What’s up?”
“Will you come to the living room? I’d like you to meet Cassie.” Jon beamed, I’ve noticed that he always lights up when he talks about his girlfriend. It really was adorable.
“Of course!” I sat up straighter and hopped off my bed, looking at Ashlynn who was sitting on her bed silently, just looking down at her hands.
“I’m not actually feeling well right now.” She didn’t look up, just sniffed, and bit her lip. “Next time, okay? I just need to shower and get some sleep.”
“Ash…” I started, she just got up, grabbed her towel, forced a smile for us, and walked into the bathroom.
“What was that?” Brendon asked, looking at me.
“Um.”
“That was a sister spat.” Ryan mocked, seemingly coming from nowhere and throwing his arm over Brendon’s shoulder. “You’ll get used to them.”
I just forced a chuckle and followed the three guys to the living room where Spencer was sitting with a pretty brunette, she was wearing a white floral dress and laughing at Spencer’s impression of Jon playing guitar hero.
“Stop ruining her impression of me, Spencer! She still thinks I’m cool.” Jon said as he crossed his arms. They turned towards us and my eyes caught Spencer’s.
“That ship sailed long ago, Jon.” She winked her bright green eyes and turned her grin on me, walking over and putting out her hand. “Hi! I’m Cassie.” I shook her hand and smiled. “Don’t tell me…you’re Tara right? Jon mentioned you had different hair, and Spencer was describing the gorgeous blonde one, though he never got around to describing her gorgeous sister. So I’m assuming you’re Tara, am I right?”
I laughed and blushed. This girl certainly could talk.
Brendon coughed and mumbled “loser” towards Spencer who simply flipped him off. My cheeks were absolutely on fire.
“Yep, I’m Tara. Nice to meet you.”
“Where’s your sister?” She smiled and stood on her tiptoes to look over my shoulder.
“She’s not feeling well. Just going to take a shower and sleep. She apologizes for being rude.”
“Not rude at all! It’s Jonathan’s fault for not warning anyone that I was coming.”

Cassie was one of the sweetest girls I had ever met. The six of us spent the night eating tacos and talking about life. At around nine, when Brendon mentioned being tired and that Ryan should really sing him a lullaby, Cassie suggested that the boys “stop being so silly and finish that song you’ve been working on while us girls talk about you and make cookies.”
Jon’s reply of “That should make me nervous, but cookies”
Was similar to Brendon’s reply of “I’m really not even that tired. Stop being so obsessed with me, Ryan, geez.” Ryan just glared at him as Cassie pulled me off of the couch and into the kitchen.
The cookies we made were Cassie’s mom’s recipe and were delicious. We had fun shaping the cookies like penises and making Brendon’s cookie penis extra-large so “he can finally know what it’s like to have a big one”. I figured Cassie and I would get along great.
“You’re a Christian, right?” Cassie asked me as she took a bit out of her heart-shaped “JJW” cookie.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Are you looking for a church for the summer? Jon, Spencer and I go to a super good one. I’d love for you to come with us. Your sister too.”
“Really? That sounds like a lot of fun. I’ll definitely go. And I’ll ask Ash.”
“Ask her what?” Spencer inquired, walking completely into the room and grabbing a water bottle from the refrigerator.
“I invited Tara to church with us on Sunday! No more third-wheel Spencer.”
“I believe you meant third-wheel Cassie. You can never steal Jon from me.”
She laughed at him and rolled her eyes fondly.
“No, but I was sent to ask about the cookies and what is taking so long.” He looked at the plate of them sitting on the counter and bit back a smile.
“Tell Mr. Urie to be patient or he will not get any cookies!” Cassie said loud enough to be heard in the living room.
***
“I know you aren’t asleep.”
I looked across the dark room toward my sister, who rolled over to look back at me. I couldn’t see her face but I knew she could see mine, due to the window being behind her and shining moonlight onto my face. It was probably 2 am.
She didn’t reply.
“You want to talk about it?” I asked.
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Came her short, mumbled response.
“It doesn’t matter who asks who. We need to talk. I don’t think you get it.”
“You don’t think I get it? What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that I was raped, Ashlynn. He didn’t cheat on me, or break up with me or something equally as petty. Dealing with that is a lot harder than just moving on and trying to date the first guy who smiles at me. You seem to think that I should just get over it and admit some major crush on Spencer. And you know what? Maybe if this were last year, that’s what I would do. But I’m not the same anymore. You have to get that. I’m not okay. I don’t trust people, guys especially, so I definitely don’t want to jump into another relationship. Can you just understand that and lay off?”
She was quiet for a while before quietly whispering “I just want you to be happy. I don’t think you should get over it. I just want you to move on so that you can live your life.”
“It’s been three months. I just found out that I’m not pregnant, for Pete’s sake. Why do I have to move on already? I want to take my time and ease into things, especially guys, I’m not ready and I’m not going to be ready any time soon. Why do you care so much?”
“I just…I never liked him. And I thought that if you were to be with someone like Spencer who we both know would actually treat you right…then maybe he could, like…”
“Fix me?”
She sighed. “I don’t know. Something like that.”
“I need to fix myself, Ashlynn. Screw guys. I don’t need anyone to fix me. I need time.”
“Alright, I’m sorry. I just never realized that it affected you that much.”
“What?”
“I mean enough to have you say that you ‘aren’t capable of love’.”
“I thought I loved him, you know? I thought one day we would get married, move out of Tennessee and be happy. So in my mind I was in love.”
She was quiet.
“Do you know what he said to me? His justification?”
“No.” She choked out.
“He said ‘maybe if you weren’t such a tease and would have just put out, we wouldn’t be here’.” I paused, thinking of his harsh words and black eyes glaring down at me as he walked out, leaving me alone and with ripped shorts in his brother’s frat house. “That’s what I have to think of with the word ‘love’, so yeah, my ability to love someone or even remotely trust someone in that way is kind of shot to hell now.”
“I’m so sorry. I wish it didn’t happen. I wish I could’ve…” She choked on something and I heard her wet sniffles.
“Don’t ever wish you could’ve done anything. This is in no way your fault. It happened. It sucks, and I hate that it happened, but it did. And I’m dealing with it. Slowly, in my own way, okay?”
She nodded. “I love you, T.”
“I know. I love you too, Ash.”
That night the nightmares intensified.