The Art of Not Breathing(54)

When he’s finished the drink, he starts to cry and I’m shocked. I try to imagine feeling so guilty about having a few drops of lemon juice that it would make me cry, and then before I know it, I’m choked up too and fighting the tears.

“You’re killing yourself, Dil,” I say, my voice wavering.

“I don’t want to feel like this anymore.” His voice is thick with phlegm. “What do I do?”

“I don’t know,” I whisper. “But I’ll help you.”

I cry properly then, relieved that he wants my help but not sure how to give it, and still angry that he’s been hiding something from me all these years. I hug his fragile body.

“I’ll bring some of those nutritional shakes home later. The ones that some kids at school have instead of lunch.”

Dillon continues to cry. “Are you sure you can’t stay?” he splutters as I get up to go. “You’re not going in the water, are you?”

“I just have to meet a friend.”

“Don’t go in the water. Just stay here.”

Part of me wants to. I want to play hangman and watch movies and pretend that we’re a normal family. But Tay is waiting for me and so is Eddie, and so is my four-minute goal.

“Rest up. I won’t be long. Maybe we can watch another film together later?”

He nods, but I know he thinks I’m deserting him. Just hang on a few more days, Dilbil, I think to myself as I leave him. I’m sure that getting to the bottom of the drop-off is going to give me all the answers: to remember what happened, to get closure. It just has to. And then I’ll be able to focus on Dillon.





Inside the boathouse after our dive, I feel elated. Three minutes, forty-five seconds—my longest dive. And now I’m confident I can do this. Tay passes me a towel, and I stand and watch him for a moment as he peels his wetsuit down to his waist and rubs his hair. He seems happy, relaxed. I hope it’s because of me. I think of Dillon and get a sudden pang of guilt for leaving him. I pray that he’s eaten something.

“I should go back and see if Dillon is okay,” I say to Tay as I dry my hair, trying not to look at his bare chest. And then he comes over to where I’m standing and kisses me on the lips. It goes on forever, and he holds me tighter and tighter as I lean closer. And then his fingers are on the zip at the back of my wetsuit.

“Wait,” I say. We are both breathless.

“What’s wrong?” he whispers. “Please don’t make me stop. I can’t bear to let go of you.”

“I need to get home,” I say again. “I can’t leave Dillon any longer.” It’s a strain to say it because I don’t want to go. The boathouse is my home, not McKellen Drive with my crazy family.

“He’ll be okay for a bit,” Tay says. He gently brushes my neck, making me shiver. I really shouldn’t leave Dillon too long.

“Trust me—he’ll be okay.”

It’s five o’clock. I’ve already been gone for hours. Perhaps if I make sure I’m back by six, it’ll be okay. And Mum should be home by now anyway.

“Okay, I’ll stay just a bit longer.”

He kisses me again and it’s like being underwater. Clear but distorted at the same time. Everything is bigger underwater. I trail my fingers down his spine and he murmurs.

“Are you sure you want to do this? I mean, are you sure you like me?” I lean back so I can see his face. It’s not that I don’t trust him. It’s just that I want to be certain.

“Can’t you tell?” He nods downward, but I can’t bring myself to look at his crotch.

“I . . . you’re not going to leave again, are you?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

He moves his hand back to my zip. I feel fuzzy all over, and a bit faint.

A thought. I’m pretty sure that Tay will agree to anything right now, so it’s my chance to get what I want. “Will you come with me? Tomorrow, will you come with me to say goodbye to Eddie?” I say it quickly before I change my mind. I press my face into his clavicle. I hear him breathe in deeply through his nose.

“Please come with me,” I say again. “I need you there.”

“Okay, I’ll come with you,” he murmurs into my ear, and then kisses my neck. “Why does it have to be tomorrow?”

“Because . . . Because I’m ready.” It’s the only answer I have, even if I’m not a hundred percent sure it’s the truth.

As he pulls the zip down, I feel as though I’m being opened up after years spent inside a dark, suffocating box. I shiver as the air hits my exposed skin and he lays out the towels on the floor. My heart thumps erratically as he peels my wetsuit down from my shoulders, down to my waist, and then I help him with the legs. Even though I’m wearing a swimming costume and Tay has seen me in it many times before, I feel almost naked. All the time Tay is quiet, looking at me. He passes me a blanket, and I wrap it around myself as I lie down on the floor. I watch him remove his suit. His foot gets caught in the leghole and he stumbles, almost falling on top of me. I laugh and he smiles.

“Are you nervous?” he asks when he has recovered and is standing in only his shorts.

I shake my head and focus on trying to not breathe so heavily. Tay reaches into my cupboard and produces a bottle of vodka.