Suffocating While Breathing

Peyton

41, 42, 43. Before I could get to 44, I opened my eyes and looked up from the bottoms of the pool. I could tell by the way her hip was popped and arms were crossed that my mother was about to tell me she was leaving again.

The rest of the air in my lungs crept out as I swam to the top of the water. She was babbling on, unaware the water was muffling her voice. I could see her talking, but if felt like she was speaking in a different language.

"Earth to Peyton. Did you hear what I said?" She snapped at me. Iswam to the stairs, not bothering to answer her.

She looked irritated. "I said I have to go out of town for work for a few weeks. I won't be here to take you back to college."

I looked at her without an expression. "Okay," was all I could get out.

We stared at each other for a moment before she turned to walk away. "I'm leaving tonight, Pey." She hollered over her shoulder.

I didn't bother watching her walk away. The opening and closing of the back door let me know it was safe to go to my room. I'm this moment and all the other moments of summer, I was glad our rooms were on opposite ends of the house. I looked down at myself and then back to the house, laughing. She hadnt bothered to notice I was still in my clothes from earlier, but a swimsuit. The puddles of water were like a trail of desperation through the house.

My room was at the far end of the hall off the kitchen. It was decent size, but nothing spectacular. Not would you expect for a lawyers daughter. What the bedroom lacked, the bathroom made up for. It was large, with the walk-in shower taking up the back wall. I tore my clothes off, throwing them in the sink to dry out. I walked to the knobs, watching the water fall from the ceiling. I stepped in, letting the heat infiltrate my body before sitting down under the water.

Lately, the only thing to silence my mind was the pool or the shower. I used to hate it. Used to be scared, but I'd rather drown at this point than deal with the memories that won't seem to go away.

Eventually I got up and finished my hair routine. I turned the knobs quickly and got out of the shower, making my way to my towels on the door. I could hear my phone vibrating somewhere. When I found it, I had a message from my best friend.

"Party at my house. Starts at 10."

I set my phone on my nightstand, walking back to the bathroom. Undoing the towel on my head, i used the towel to wipe the fog off the mirror. Staring back at me was a person I no longer recognized. In fact, I hated what I saw. A shell of the person I used to be. No lo bc we the happy go lucky girl I was. No, now I nothing. Nobody.

Anger and sadness crept through my body like a deadly infection. Before I knew it, my fist was colliding with my reflection. It wasn't like the dramatics they show in movies. The glass split and a few pieces fell, but outside of that, nothing was different except the pain in my hand. A sigh and a wince later, the broken piece were now sitting in my trashcan.

It was only 4 pm, so I had time to get ready for Sarah's party later. Shuffling over to my closet, I looked around as my shoulders sagged. A summer full of depression caused my clothes to engulf me. The saddest part? Instead of concern all my mother shot at me through the weeks was "wow you look great, Pey."

I rummaged around my drawers and found and old pair of jeans to cut and a t-shirt I stole from Jessie a few months ago. I looked at the shirt and felt nothing.
There was a time when I would have put it on and felt happy I had it. Now, it was just another thing to remind me of the version of myself that had died. A person who played with peoples emotions and feelings because I couldn't figure out my own.

The scissors cut into the fabric easily. I cut them moderately short, tucking the front of the ratty t-shirt I'd found on the floor into my shorts and slipped on my brown Birkenstock's. I flexed my hand, wincing at the pain. Fucking great. I walked down the hall to find my mother setting her luggage by the door.

"Are you sure you can't come back just for a day?" I said with a desperation I hope she couldn't hear.

She looked at me without any feeling, "Peyton. You're an adult, I'm sure you will be just fine on your own." She waved me off and answered a phone call. This was our relationship now. We had never been close, but the minute I turned 18, she had completely lost interest in me. I didn't understand it and probably never would, but that didn't stop it from hurting.

I just turned 19, but okay mom. I walked in the kitchen towards the fridge and heard the door open.

"Bye Peyton. I'll see you at Christmas break."

Before I could get an I love you out, she had already closed the front door, putting another barrier between us. I stood in the middle of the kitchen looking at the door defeated and alone. I'd come to be okay with the silence, with loneliness, but lately that's all there was and it was beginning to feel like too much.

I stomped back to my room, slamming the door behind me. Sure she couldn't hear it or see it, but it still felt good to do it. I laid across my bed and stared at the ceiling, counting all the times she's left in the last two years without saying goodbye. The endless counting was enough to send me into the comforting arms of my dreams.