Holding My Breath [Wattys 2016]

3 ~ A n n a

                

Flashback ~ December 28, 2010

The Beginning

Slumping into the worn out couch, a sigh escapes my lips.

The cold from outside has a way of seeping in past the windows and doors, turning the den into an unforgiving freezer. Even in layers, I have to pull an old blanket over myself in order to keep my hands from quivering.

Another frigid gust of wind sweeps inside as the back door flies open.

Are they trying to freeze me?

I look over to see Toby waddling in on this little three-year-old legs, followed by two more flushed faces. I smile as he shakes off the snow by waving his arms all around like a pinwheel. I partly wish I was still young and free like that, where I could run around in the snow like nobody's business and not have to worry about what others think.

Now it just feels sort of silly.

"The ice on the roads hasn't melted yet," Dad breathes, hugging his coat closer. "Maybe we'll be able to get the car out tomorrow."

Mom shakes her head, smiling. Of course, the ice won't melt by tomorrow. This is Virginia after all, where the snow and the rain and the clouds give us cover like a blanket all winter. And when the sweltering rush of summer comes, I know I'll wish I were still here, freezing.

"We'll see," she mumbles into her mittens.

"Fat chance," I call back to them while tracing the cover of the book I was reading with my fingertip. "The storm isn't supposed to die down for a few days."

My dad just grunts and falls down beside me on the couch. "We're out of bread."

"We're out of everything," I mumble, but they don't hear me. "And it's not because of the storm."

"That's why we should have stocked up before it started snowing," My mom kisses him on the cheek. "But someone didn't want to get stuck in traffic."

Toby waddle-runs his way over the couch, flopping down between Dad and me. His coat is so puffy that he can't move his arms very well, and they stick out to the sides like the snowman outside the window.

"Appa joosh?" He asks and my smile drops a little. He doesn't understand what's going on. He's the innocent victim in all of this.

I smile a little and follow him towards the kitchen, then pour some watered down apple juice into a plastic cup. Mom and dad stay in the living room, warming up and talking quietly.

They do this sometimes. It's been happening more often since he got laid off from his job... Mom never worked, but they keep saying everything is going to be fine.

I don't believe them.

It's been a month, and it's obvious the job search isn't going well. And mom can't work because she has to take care of Toby. I mean, they put up a nonchalant front whenever I'm in the room, but then they move to hushed whispers when they think I can't hear.

It reminds me... I pull out the spare cash I had managed to gather and stick it in the hollowed out peanut butter jar from the back of the pantry. It's almost empty now.

"Anna!" Toby jumps up and down in his seat.

I sit down next to him. "That's me."

"We watch TV?" I look down at my hands. Our cable was cut off when dad didn't pay the bill. Saving money, he'd said.

"Not now, Buddy. We could go build another snowman?" Toby shakes his head, hugging himself as if to keep warm. "Too cold?"

He nods, grinning. "Too cold," he mumbles, looking outside through the window. I can feel the sharp drift of the winter finding its way into the kitchen as someone opens another door somewhere in the house.

Toby fiddles with the zipper on his jacket, his mittens getting in the way. Then he perks up with another idea, forgetting the coat.

"More appa joosh?" Toby asks, shaking his cup rapidly against the table.

I glance at the empty jug back on the counter. "No Buddy," I smile sadly. "No more Apple juice."