Breathing Slowly Never Worked For Me

I walked blindly through the streets surrounding our apartment building. I hardly noticed what was going on around me. My gaze didn’t even falter as I stepped onto the street and a car swerved sharply to avoid me, sounding its horn. An older woman grabbed me gently by the arm and led me back onto the footpath.

“Are you okay, dear?” she asked and I nodded slowly. She smiled sympathetically. “If you’re sure,” she said as she continued along the street. Before long, I was sitting on a bus on its way to the outskirts of the city. As the grotty apartment buildings soon faded to corner stores and dog parks, I realized I was in a neighborhood I knew too well. I got off at stop 56 and walked to the end of the block. I knocked firmly on the heavy wood door and peered through the stained glass window just above my eye level. I soon heard shuffling on the other side before it swung open.

“Mom?” I said quietly. Her expression quickly turned from one of shock to one of worry and she opened her arms to me.

“Oh, Lindsey,” she sighed and ushered me in, as I cried into her rose patterned blouse. “Sweetheart,” she murmured and stroked my hair. She didn’t need to ask what was wrong, she always knew.

I was standing awkwardly in the kitchen while my Mom bustled about, preparing dinner. “Where’s Dirk?” I asked casually.

“At work,” she replied, wiping her hands on a dishcloth. She indicated for me to sit down and I obliged. With Dirk out of the house, I told her everything, carefully tiptoeing around anything I though might worry her. I told her about Ronnie and how I thought he had lost a considerable amount of money in the poker game, I told her about my argument with Max, I even showed her the bruises on my wrists, but I assured her that was all over. I cried, more than I had in a long time, and I called myself a cab despite my mother’s best efforts to get me to say.

“Lindsey,” she said finally, “Are you sure things are okay? You should be able to feel safe in your own apartment. With all these strange men Ronnie keeps bringing by…”

“He’s not whoring me out, Mom,” I said and, although I was exhausted and my face was tear streaked, I couldn’t help but smile at her honest concern. She shook her head.

“No, I know,” she replied, busying herself in the kitchen again, “Just be careful.” I watched her for a moment. The concentrated look on her face as she scrubbed at a dirty pot and her flushed cheeks, long strands of her dark hair falling from the loose knot tied at the nape of her neck reminded me, if only vaguely, of the way she was after Dane died. The way she seemed so intent on keeping everything so clean. I shook my head fiercely to try and stop the sick feeling that was creeping into the bottom of my stomach.

“He’s an okay guy, you know,” I assured her. She stopped her scrubbing and glanced at me over her shoulder. The pot slipped from her hands and landed in the sink with a loud clatter, making me jump. My mother seemed unfazed.

“He might be an okay guy,” she began, wiping her hands dry and gazing upon me with such an intensity I felt my cheeks redden, as if I were only five years old and being told off for doing something terribly naughty. “But he’s leading you down a dark path, Lindsey Paige.” I couldn’t help it. Something inside me began to burn with anger. Maybe it was because I was always jumping to Ronnie’s defence and it now happened out of habit. Maybe it was because I had never truly forgiven her. But what I said to her I will never forget. Not for the rest of my life.

“You led me down this path,” I replied, my voice quiet but seething. Before I could even register what was happening, I felt a sharp pain across my cheek. I yelped and clutched at my face, only to look up at my mother and realized, with her hand now hanging limp by her side, that she had slapped me. I stared at her a moment longer and she met my gaze sternly when I heard a car horn sound from outside.

“That will be my cab,” I mumbled. I gathered my things and walked myself to the door. It was only as I was walking down the long drive that I heard someone from behind me.

“Lindsey?” my mother’s voice called. I turned to look at her, to see what it is she wanted, when she grabbed me in a tight hug. I could feel her ragged breath against my cheek and I knew she was crying. “I love you,” she said quietly in my ear, “I wouldn’t say these things if I didn’t.”

“Don’t worry about me, Mom,” I assured her, rubbing her back, “I’ll work it out. It’s going to be fine.” She nodded and gave me a small smile, holding me at arms length. I was about to say something more when her hand shot up in front of her mouth as a large sob escaped her lips. “Mom, don’t cry,” I begged. I thought she was done with the crying. The sadness. She nodded but didn’t say anything else. “I better go,” I told her as I caught the glare of the cab’s headlights, “I love you.” I gave her a quick hug. Her body was shuddering with the sobs she was trying to suppress. She didn’t reply. She couldn’t. As I neared the cab I glanced back at her one last time and a decision came to me. It was as if all the clarity I had lacked was suddenly there once more. I was going to leave Ronnie. I didn’t know when, exactly, and I didn’t know how. But it was coming.