Forgetting How to Breathe Read online

  That night before Mama disappeared, Tia saw that she was worried about something and asked her to say what it was. After all, Mama had raised Tia to be strong and smart. She thought maybe she could help.

  But Mama had refused to tell her anything. Tia had gotten mad. She even yelled. That’s when things went all wrong.

  Tia had told Mama to get help. She told her about Alcoholics Anonymous.

  Mama had looked at her then, something really strange in her eyes. Something Tia hadn’t seen before. Something more than sad.

  It had scared her.

  “Go to bed, Tia,” Mama had said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “Everything will be fine.”

  The next day, she was gone.

  She hadn’t abandoned them. Tia refused to believe that. She wouldn’t. Not even if Tia had made her mad.

  It couldn’t be that. It just couldn’t.

  Mama needed Tia to help her. To find her. Tia owed her that, especially after making her more than sad.

  Why hadn’t she stayed up that night and made Mama talk some more? There was a tiny ember deep inside her belly that wanted to shoot up and make her believe this was all her fault. But she wouldn’t let it. She was old enough to know that wasn’t true. But still, the ember smouldered. Only one thing would make it go out. She had to fix this. She had to find Mama.

  That meant she had to calm down and bide her time. The last time she’d tried to leave, she’d had no real plan. That’s why it hadn’t worked.

  She watched through the office door as the school secretary typed at her computer keyboard.

  Maybe she had a better plan. The start of one, anyhow.

  She had access to the Internet and to a phone. She would find Richard that way. First Richard, then Mama.

  Chapter Seven

  Wind rustled budding branches as the departing school bus belched its way down the lane and Tia and Tag made their way toward the house. Tag had refused to sit beside Tia on the bus and now walked quickly, as if to put distance between them.

  “Come on, Tag,” Tia pleaded, trotting to catch up. “Don’t be mad.”

  “You weren’t there. I had to go by myself.”

  Tag hated taking the bus by himself. Tia knew that, and that made her mistake that morning even worse. She didn’t care so much about letting down Cathy, but her brother had been through enough. “I know,” she said. “Haven’t you made any friends yet?”

  “Not on the bus.” He didn’t slow, but at least he was talking to her. “Mom would have yelled at you.”

  “Maybe not. She loved animals too. She would have understood.”

  “She got really mad when I stayed after school that time.”

  “That’s because she was worried about you.” She felt a pang. She should have waited for him.

  “She wasn’t really worried about me. She doesn’t even care about us.”

  Tia nearly stumbled. “How can you say that?”

  “Because she left us. Because she’s not coming back.”

  Tia felt like icy water had just been thrown over her. She grabbed hold of Tag and stopped him. “Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that.”

  Tag just looked at her, worry in his eyes. She drew him in and hugged him. “I know you didn’t mean it, Tag. This is my fault.” Everything was her fault. Nothing had been right since that last night with Mama. She let go and looked at him again. “You’re right. I should have been on the bus with you. I’m sorry.”

  “Okay,” he said, and shrugged.

  They continued up the drive, this time side by side. On the porch, outside the door, Tia paused for a steadying breath.

  “Aren’t you going to open it?” Tag asked.

  “Yeah, sure,” Tia said, turning the handle. Her hand touched the folded note in her jacket pocket. Being late for class meant an automatic note home, which had to be signed by a parent or guardian.

  Wistfully, she looked toward the garage where Bob liked to tinker with boat engines or craft rustic benches and chairs, and she wished he were there. Last night, he’d mentioned that he had to make an afternoon airport run to drop off departing guests and pick up new ones. That meant he might not be back until late. Too bad. He was way more easygoing than Cathy.

  Tia toyed with the idea of “forgetting” about the note and catching Bob later, but she doubted that would work. He’d probably just give it to Cathy anyway. She was particular about being involved in anything school related. Actually, she was particular about knowing everything about everyone, especially stuff about Tia and Tag. Privacy didn’t exist in Cathy’s house.

  But she couldn’t know what was in Tia’s head.

  Tia followed her brother into the house.

  Cathy was sitting at the kitchen table, the twins perched next to her on booster seats. Both girls had carrot sticks and creamy dip on plates in front of them. There were two other places set, each with a glass of milk and additional carrot sticks and dip. Tag slipped into a seat and reached for the milk.

  “Have a seat, Tia,” Cathy said. “I didn’t have quite as many carrots as I thought. Enough to make a snack, though.”

  Tia gulped as Cathy looked at her. The carrots she’d taken for the horses would be one more strike against her. The dark pit she had to climb out of was growing deeper by the second.

  Cathy peered at her. “Is something wrong? You look like you have something you want to say.”

  Maybe Cathy could read her mind.

  “Yes,” she said, “but it can wait until you have more time.”

  “I have time,” Cathy said. “Come. Sit.”

  Tia ignored the place Cathy had set for her and pulled up a chair on the other side of Daye. “No thank you, Daye,” she said softly to an offered bite of carrot.

  Tag finished eating, and with a “Thanks for the snack!” he dashed down the hall toward his room.

  Cathy smiled, watching him go, then turned back to Tia. Waiting.

  “Um … a couple of things.” Tia swallowed hard. “First, I am really, really sorry about this morning.” She took a deep breath, then blurted out, “I thought Grandpa Bebe might need help with the feeding, but then I got it wrong and he was mad and gave me cocoa and let me clean the stalls.” She swallowed hard. “I only meant to be a minute.”

  Cathy nodded. “Thank you for that, Tia. Grandpa Bebe did call while you were at school, but I’m glad you told me in your own words. It is important we are open with each other.” She offered a glimmer of a smile. “Besides, I do understand the draw of the horses.”

  “You do?”

  “You may find this hard to believe, but there was a time I was very much like you.” Cathy paused, maybe noticing Tia’s perplexed look. “No, I wasn’t in foster care. I mean that like you, I loved every kind of animal, especially horses. My grandmother used to keep them, you know.”

  “She did?” Cathy had never mentioned her grandmother to Tia, or even her mother. There was still a whole lot Tia didn’t know about this family.

  Cathy’s eyes glazed as though she was looking right back into her memory. “My grandmother adored horses and I adored her. Maybe that’s the reason I wanted to do everything she did. Or maybe it was because we were so much alike.” She shrugged. “Doesn’t much matter. Worked out the same.”

  Cathy wiped Summer’s hands and face with a wet cloth, then Daye’s, and released them from their chairs. The twins sprinted off in the same direction, as if by unspoken plan.

  “Every morning, she would feed her horses—she had three—and then clean the stalls. Like you, I figured she could use some help, so even before breakfast, I’d ride my bike over and give her a hand. Then after school, we’d saddle up and go for a ride.”

  “So you really do get it?” Tia asked.

  Cathy nodded, smiling all the way to her eyes as she cleared away the remains of the snacks and wi
ped down the table. “My grandmother lived near a lake, and there was a little island not far from the shore. She’d swim her horse over and call for me to join her.” She leaned against the kitchen sink, bunching the wiping cloth in her hands. “I could never get my horse to go. The water spooked him too much. Instead, I’d tie him up and swim.” She looked wistful. “It was a nice time, but I always wished my horse would get in the water and carry me over, just like my grandmother’s horse did with her.”

  “Did you keep trying?” Tia asked, engrossed in the story. “You should never give up on something that’s important to you.”

  “I agree with you, Tia, and I did try for a while. But then my grandmother died, and horses just didn’t seem important anymore.”

  Tia felt a wash of disappointment. Cathy didn’t get it after all. Not completely. Tia would never stop loving animals, not for any reason, even if someone died.

  Just like she would never give up on her mother.

  But she wouldn’t say that to Cathy. Not when she was so obviously still hurting from her memories. Instead, she said, “I’m sorry your grandmother died.”

  “Me too,” Cathy said with a sad smile. “But that was a long time ago. I just want you to know that I do understand the appeal, however, we still have to have ground rules.”

  Tia nodded. “Grandpa Bebe said the same thing.”

  “This is a busy household, Tia. Without ground rules, we won’t know who’s coming and going and when. We also need to make sure you’re safe. Grandpa Bebe told me how you walked in when the horses were racing for the door.” Cathy swallowed hard, then shook her head. “I can’t tell you how much it scares me to think of you getting hurt.”

  That was unexpected. Tia didn’t know what to say.

  “Tell you what,” Cathy said. “No weekday mornings at the shelter. Not yet.” She looked like she thought Tia might argue. “Let’s stick to what we’ve already agreed to. If you keep up with your homework, and there are no other unexpected hiccups, we’ll talk about more. Can you live with that?”

  “What about school holidays?”

  She reached for Tia’s hand as if she might grab hold, stopped, and gave it a quick pat instead. “I’d like us to do family things on holidays, okay? After a month or so, we can talk about this again.”

  Tia’s heart swelled with gratitude. This so easily could have gone the other way. “Okay.”

  Cathy tipped her head to the side and studied her. “Are you absolutely certain, Tia? I can’t have you saying you agree to something and then going back on it. And no bending the rules. Only agree if you mean it.”

  “I agree, really, I do!” Tia assured her. “I won’t mess up again. I promise.”

  Cathy smiled. “I appreciate that, Tia.” She stood. “I thought I might dash to the grocery store before supper,” she said. “If you don’t mind watching the twins, that is.”

  “No … I mean, yes.” Tia cleared her throat. “I don’t mind. Sure.”

  Wow. So not what she expected. Cathy was trusting her with the twins. She’d anticipated punishment, not this.

  Cathy plucked her jacket from a hook by the door and turned. “Sorry, was there something else? You said there were a couple of things.”

  The note! It suddenly felt warm in her pocket. Tia took a breath, pinched the sharp, folded corner of it between her fingers, and pulled it out.

  “What’s that?” Cathy asked.

  “I was late for school,” she said, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

  Cathy looked tired as she took the note from her. “It’s fine, Tia. I won’t be long.”

  Chapter Eight

  After dinner, Tia finished her homework and flopped onto her bed. What a crazy, stupid day. It was crazy nice that Cathy finally trusted her to watch the twins, especially when Cathy could just as easily have washed her hands of her. Grandpa Bebe might have done the same, the way she’d stormed into the barn that way. She understood now that he had only been angry because she might have gotten hurt. She’d heard the horses running by before she even opened the door. Why hadn’t she waited?

  Why, why, why do I always mess up? That was the stupid part.

  She never used to. Not like this. Nothing had been right since the day they’d been taken from their home.

  On her bedside table, she spotted the decoupage box that she’d carried with her to every placement. She picked it up and pried off the lid. Inside, she kept a few small treasures, worth nothing to others, but everything to her. It made her feel better sometimes to hold each item and remember.

  There was a key to the apartment she hoped one day they would return to, even though their social worker had said it had been rented out to someone else.

  Next to the key, there was a dime-sized pressed flower, a once-brilliant blue blossom with a cheery, yellow centre. She and Mama had found growing it through a crack in the sidewalk outside their apartment building. Tia smiled, remembering how her mother had called it a “pinch flower,” not knowing the real name. Tia had looked it up later and saw it was called a forget-me-not.

  Lining the bottom of the box, there were three folded strips of photos from a coin-operated booth they’d visited in a mall. She pulled them out and looked at them, running her finger along their edges, thinking how fun that day had been. One strip had photos of Tia and Tag making funny faces and poses. The second: Tia, Tag and Mama. It was too hard to look at that one. She folded it up and put it back in the box. The third showed Mama and a man. He had long hair, tattoos and a nice smile: Richard.

  She returned her treasures to the box, picked up one of her school notebooks and made her way to the computer in the hall. If anyone asked what she was doing, she’d just say she was doing research for a school project.

  With a quick glance over her shoulder, Tia logged on to the Internet and opened a search-engine page. She typed in Hotels, Winnipeg.

  Almost immediately, the screen was flooded with results. More than twenty-five million hotels? No way that could be right. There were only about 750,000 people living in and around the city. She knew because they’d talked about it in class.

  Way too many. Need to narrow it down. Tia clicked on the Maps option.

  Better. The little red dots in the map image of the city she could work with. There were still a lot of them, but it was way better than twenty-five million possibilities. Tia clicked on each dot and recorded the contact information that popped up.

  Her stomach rumbled and she glanced at the clock on the corner of the computer screen. She’d been at this for forty-five minutes already! Luckily, she was almost finished.

  Tia jumped as Cathy poked her head around the corner. “Tia, would you mind finding your brother? It’ll be getting dark soon.”

  Tia quickly closed the map. “How come you don’t know where he is?” she snarked, immediately kicking herself. Cathy had been pretty decent to her today. It was like Tia couldn’t help snapping at her.

  Cathy didn’t call Tia on her attitude. Instead, she said, “I think he’s in the yard” and disappeared back around the corner.

  Tia returned her notebook to her schoolbag, then went out in the yard to look for Tag. Not there. Not at the beach, either, where he sometimes liked to skip stones. She made her way back up to the front of the house where Cathy had a garden plot. It was dormant now, but she’d been talking about how she couldn’t wait to put in peas, corn and potatoes. When Tia had mentioned that she and Mama had planted sunflowers one summer right after Tag had been born, Cathy had offered to put in a few of those too.

  What Tia hadn’t mentioned was that Mama had forgotten about the flowers. They hadn’t watered or weeded them and by the end of the summer, there were no happy, big-faced yellow flowers bowing under the weight of their seed. There was nothing at all except a tangle of stinkweed.

  That was the summer Daddy had died. Everything had changed t
hen. Mama had changed, and then nothing else was the same.

  Bob had just pulled up to the house in the van and was unloading bags from the trunk. A man and a woman in matching green windbreakers, clearly the new guests, were standing close by.

  “Hi,” Tia called, waving. The lodge guests smiled and Tia turned to Bob. “Have you seen Tag?”

  Bob nodded. “Top of the drive. He’s riding that old bike he found in the shed. Said he wouldn’t go far.”

  Tia nodded her thanks and jogged up the drive. Tag was riding figure-eights in the lane. “Tag!” she called. “Time to come in!”

  Tag stopped riding, turning his head toward the field on the other side of the lane.

  Tia frowned. Her brother didn’t look his usual happy and slightly annoying self. “Something wrong?”

  He turned back toward her as she drew close. “I like it here, Tia.”

  “I know. Why does that make you sad?”

  “It doesn’t. I’m just afraid you’re going to wreck everything.”

  Tia felt like she’d been stabbed. “I’m not wrecking anything, Tag.”

  Tag looked like he was going to cry. “I miss Mama,” he said, his voice husky. “But it’s nice here.” He turned the bike around and, with wheels spitting gravel, took off up the lane.

  “Tag, wait!” Tia called, running after him. Just outside the cemetery, she finally caught up, but only because he’d skidded to a stop. He climbed off the bike, dropped it and stood still, tears running down his cheeks. “Hey,” she said, reaching for him. “It’s okay, Tag.”

  “No,” he said, pushing her away. Tia stood, arms at her side, until finally his tears stopped and he sat on the ground. He had his back to the cemetery but kept glancing over his shoulder at it.

  Tia sat beside him. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

  Tag took a deep breath and snuck one more look at the cemetery. “Do you remember that time Mama helped with the Halloween party?”