Hold My Breath by Ginger Scott Page B

occasional muttered word. I was lulling myself into ignoring that itch deep inside, trying to focus on the regular pattern of his breathing, when a photo flashed on the screen of a line of girls, all standing in a canal, the skirts of their dresses tied up around their thighs as they bent forward to wash their families’ clothing. The one in the middle—she looked like Maddy.
    Or maybe she didn’t at all. Perhaps I was just waiting for the slightest resemblance to put the rest of the pieces already in my imagination into place. I could have closed my eyes just then and I would have seen her. She was everywhere…waiting.
    Visiting Tanya and Dylan didn’t make me want Maddy any less. If anything, it made me want her more. It made me resent my brother more—for leaving me with his lies. Maddy looks at me and still sees him, she sees the man we all kept on a pedestal. So many times, I’ve wanted to tell her the truth about who he really was, what he did. But that would only crush her. And maybe she wouldn’t even be able to look at me at all then, and that…I can’t go back to that. I missed her too much.
    I can keep the secret. But I can’t avoid getting close to the fire. Temptation and I have always been codependent.
    I dig through the suitcase I’m living out of and find my long-sleeved black shirt. I put on the antique watch Duncan gave me for my birthday and look long and hard at the man in the mirror. I shave quickly and look at him again. I recognize him sometimes, and parts were familiar tonight. There’s enough of the good Will to push the lesser man out the door and down stairs to the front lobby—where I sit now, my back against the doors leading to the pool, my elbows on my knees, and my eyes intent on the front door and lights from the car pulling into the parking lot.
    The window I have to escape is small, and it grows shorter every passing second. My legs stretch and my muscles remind me that they’re strong enough to stand, to run before Maddy gets her key in the door. My ears hear the lock twist. I don’t move, and when she steps inside, the look on her face breaks everything left that was strong inside of me. She was hoping I would be here.
    “Hey,” she says, her voice a raspy whisper.
    She shuts the door quietly then turns to face me again, her arms folded over her chest. There’s a slight sway to her hips, and I laugh to myself because she’s not going to let this go.
    “You get done with all of that… paperwork ?” There’s a little bit of gloating to her tone, like she’s caught me. I’m sure she thinks I’ve done something bad, or screwed something up that requires the help of lawyers. I’m fine with her thinking that. It’s so much better than the truth, and if I can protect her from that, then I’ll keep playing the role of the high-profile Indiana screwup.
    I bring my hands up to my face, rubbing my cheeks for feeling to mask my reaction.
    “Yep,” I say. “All done.”
    I keep my answer short, and she shakes her head, tsking . After a few seconds, though, her arms finally fall to her sides, and her posture warms. She’s still irritated with me, and I know this isn’t the end of her prying, but for now…I have a break.
    The closer she comes, the more the dim lights from the Swim Club lobby catch her profile. She’s not wearing anything special. It’s a black sundress falling just above her knees. I’m not looking at the dress though. I’m looking at her bronzed legs, the curves proof of her discipline every day of her life for the last decade. As I stand from the ground, I take in her golden shoulders, the way her hair is swept up in a twist, her neck long and soft. The front of the dress is modest, but the line along her chest traces every curve the way I’ve dreamt of doing with my hands. I look at her shoes last, lines of strappy leather that wrap around her feet and ankles, heels tall enough to make her look closer to my height, though I know she’s not.