While She Breathes

Day 1:

“Where the hell were you?”

Letting go of the door knob, I closed my eyes and turned around. I love him, I love him. There was no reason to be scared of someone who loved me back.

“You knew where I was Jason, I’m always there on Friday nights,” I murmured, and he was right in front of me, glaring down at me from grey eyes that were so beautiful, even when he was mad.

“Why are you always late?”

“I’m not always-“

“Riley, what the fuck.”

I blinked at his cursing and blanched as he continued to stare down at me. My stomach turned inwards, and I felt it- the coursing of something painful in our strained love affair. It hurt that I felt it more than once when I was with him. Even when he had his arms around me I felt it, yet alone now with him glaring daggers at me.

He took one step closer, and fear erected itself all over the nerves in my body. I love him, I love him.

“Riley, tell me the truth.”

“I-I just did.”

He leaned over me, and exasperation threatened to escape my throat. He smelt like soap, and he pushed his face so close to mine I could see the creases of hostility on his face.

“Jace?”

The second he heard his pet name, a dark flint of something passed his eye and I winced. I had done it. Somehow the revelation that I was going to get hurt for something I didn’t do made the flame, although weak, burst out in me.

“Jason.”

Then his fingers were pressing against my cheeks, pressing my lips against his. I melted- feeling the way his chapped lips moved against mine, and cradling the sensation of his rough gestures against me. It was always like that with him. He would get angry, then kiss me like he meant it and I would like it.

It wasn’t until his fingers slid between my thighs and under my dress that I snapped.

“Jason.”

He ignored me and fingered the waistband of my tights and I drew my senses together to push him away.

“Jason.”

Like a storm that came suddenly, he broke. And there was nothing to shield the thunder other than my guitar.

Day 3:

“You broke another string again?”

I winced as Geraldine handed me another pack of strings. This was my 3rd time here in 2 weeks, and I was scared that she might catch onto something. Tugging the sleeve of my right hand downwards, I handed her the money and proceeded to string my guitar on the spot.

Unfortunately I forgot to remove the evidence of the previous string and Geraldine sat over the counter and whistled a sympathetic whistle at the busted string.

“Are you sure you play the guitar? Because I’m a hundred percent sure that guitarists don’t break their E string two weeks in a row.”

I shrugged and tightened the string after pulling away the snapped one. It was broken right in the middle- something that shouldn’t, and wouldn’t have happened if I had accidentally strummed it too hard. The E string didn’t even break easily since it was one of the thickest strings.

I guess I had to be more careful next time.

Day 4:

I remember the first time Jason kissed me.

I also remember the first time Jason hit me, but I try not to think about that too much.

It was our fourth date, and he had been slow in reciprocating the fact that I had turned him down numerous times because I would be out playing on the streets to go out for coffee with him. So he refrained from laying his hands on me.

That day I had gotten into a petty fight with my brother about hanging out with Jason.

Jason the genius who worked on my brother’s Mustang. Jason the one who was great with his hands and greased up parts of cars, but not so much with words. Frank hated Jason because he claimed that I “wouldn’t want to be caught hanging out with a guy like that.”

It turned out that I did, and I wanted it more than anything.

I met him, angry and upset- fresh from the wounds that my brother’s words caused me. He looked shocked, running his hand through his hair in the middle of fixing a car. As I careened into him in front of the guys he was working with him, I felt like a bulldozer, forcing my non-existent problems onto him.

All Frank did was insult Jason, and my intellect for hanging out with him. Jason was sweaty and working full-time at a garage shop, which ended 2 hours before his classes at a local college. Jason always had it tougher than I did.

But anyway, as I crashed into him on that day- 2 hours way too early, I kissed him.

I kissed him while he was greasy and sweaty, but he had held me like he didn’t care. He rubbed his black hands over my jeans, and we kissed for the first time to the soundtrack of cat calls and hootings from his work mates.

Then after I kissed him, I sat on top of a can of petroleum, watching him fix cars, my eyes clouded in a daze of what I just did. On that day, he brought me to a local diner and we had chips and burgers for dinner.

That day, I knew that I loved him regardless of how much money he had in his bank account.

Day 5:

“Riley!”

“Hey Mr Dickson.”

He smiled at me across the cashier as I swung my hips over the counter and settled in next to him.

“I’ll be out with the wife later, taking her out to a nice dinner. You okay with closing?”

I told him I was and put my elbows on the counter as Mr Dickson took the chance to check up on the new books that were arriving.

“Oh while you’re at it, update all documents for me will you?”

I nodded again. Because I couldn’t possibly say no to Mr Dickson, who was both my boss and my senior assistant at the book shop. He paid me 3000 dollars a month to handle opening hours, stock-checking and finance matters. But I did everything he did as well- because we were the only antique book shop that sold old-school books in our area of providence and Mr Dickson was turning 62 soon.

If I hadn’t taken my degree for accounting and business when I was 18, he would have only paid me 1000 a month. So I guess education does matter.

Jason and I, although we lived together, we didn’t share a bank account. As much as I loved him, I didn’t trust him. I had saved up all my money from all the part time jobs I had done, and if it was one thing my family always taught me about money, it was you on top of everyone else.

This was my job anyway, and I got it even before I started going out with Jason. Part of the reason why I loved it here so much was because I could get free access to all the limited edition paper backs and hard-cover books whenever I wanted. I could spend a full day just reading books, and only attending to customers (who would all spend 50 bucks on a real, solid book) when they came in.

The other part was because Mr Dickson couldn’t really see well. And with a decent amount of concealer, there was always a 100% chance that he wouldn’t catch any new bruises that I had acquired during rough nights with Jason.