The Summer I Learned to Breathe

two

☼ two ☼

"Marley?"

A strong jolt startles me, and my eyes fly open. The bright rays blind my sight and I immediately release a groan, squinting my eyes and shielding my face.

"Was that really necessary?" I mumble, attempting to rid my eyes of pain by gently massaging my eyelids.

"Absolutely," my brother, Gabriel, responds confidently. "I wouldn't complain if I were you. I could have just tossed you in the lake." I groan at the thought of waking up to water rushing up my nose, into my mouth, and stinging my eyes.

He turns his back on me, beginning to walk to the house. He pauses, throwing a glance over his shoulder along with one final comment: "You might wanna come inside, unless you're interested in missing breakfast!"

I release a heavy sigh before slowly rising to a seated position. I wince at the pain that shoots through my back from spending the night against the solid wooden dock, and I instantly wish someone would massage the knots out of it.

Rather than sit here wishing for a hardcore back massage, I decide to take the path back to the delicious smells I'm positive are surrounding the kitchen. I rise to my feet, stretching my arms and squinting my eyes from the glare coming off the water. I admire the view of the lake and the dragonflies flying above the surface before making my way across my wooded backyard to the deck.

Just as I reach the quaint white door, I steal a glance at my neighbor's dock: it, once again, is vacant. I wonder if I had imagined the presence of another human being last night as a result of the exhaustion of a long day of driving.

I dismiss the thought of my possible insanity, release a light shrug, and open the door.

"Nice of you to show up," Gabe comments, not daring to look away from his giant stack of syrup-soaked, whipped cream-topped hot cakes. He stares at them lovingly as he cuts into the stack ravenously.

Predictable.

I shake my head, running a hand through my locks as I cross the kitchen to build my own stack of deliciousness. I build my plate, pour a glass of orange juice, and slide into a seat across from Gabe.

"You made these?" I ask as I slide a forkful of food into my mouth.

Without missing a beat, he nods his head furiously. "Absolutely," he adds. His mouth is still full as he speaks, and I can see the partially chewed chunks.

I swallow my first bite before speaking. "First--there's no way you made something that tastes this good without burning the house down." He rolls his eyes and shovels a massive amount of pancakes into his mouth. "Second--don't talk with food in your mouth!" he smirks, and then he opens his mouth wide and exaggerates his chewing. I grimace and avert my eyes to my own plate.

"You sound like Dad," he comments after he (thankfully) swallows.

"Speaking of Dad... where is he?"

Gabe shrugs. "Do either of us ever really know anymore?"

Silence engulfs the table. I refuse to respond, although I'm sure he's just burying himself in his work. That, or he's at a bar drinking until the pain vanishes. Either way, he should be here with us: his kids.

Gabe cautiously breaks the silence, "Just be glad he left us these delicious pancakes," I shake my head in agreement, still refusing to look away from the safety of my breakfast. My brother sighs, and I hear his fork clatter against his plate. I wince at the sudden sound. "I'm sorry, Marley, I didn't mean--"

"It's fine," I interrupt. "Don't worry about it."

It's quiet again.

The silence between Gabe and I bothers me because it's never been like this for the two of us. Throughout breakfast in past years, my brothers would be stealing food off of each other's plates or competing to see who could stuff the most food in his mouth at once. At the time, I'd either laugh, roll my eyes, or join in on the fun. But I never once thought I'd come to miss those silly moments.