Breathe

A short story about femininity, age, and self-image. Any biblical allusions are entirely intentional.

The bed really wasn’t big enough for the two of them. An overlarge blanket was draped across its feeble frame, like a child donning its father’s coat, and the excess fabric lay heaped at the foot of the bed. Across the room, Gracie stood with one hand on her hip and the other on the light switch. “Yuck,” she said, “Should’ve kept it off.” Her hand lingered on the switch, awaiting further instruction.

Evie said nothing. Instead, she lowered herself onto the bed and sat with her legs pressed together and the waistband of her pants digging into her stomach. The mattress sagged beneath her weight. “These f*****g pants are too tight,” Evie said. She dug her fingers underneath the waistband and tried to pull the denim material away from the doughy folds of her stomach. “As if I haven’t got enough f*****g problems, my pants are too f*****g tight.”

“They look alright to me,” Gracie said, from her place beside the light switch.

The denim material clung to her legs like a second layer of skin. “It’s my f*****g mom,” Evie‘s fingers managed to locate the little silver clasp, buried within the pasty white flesh, and her fingers ripped it free. The pants burst open and Evie flopped backwards on the lumpy mattress. “Thank god,” she gasped, “I can f*****g breathe.” She lay on the bed, watching the flesh-colored mound rise and fall as she breathed in and out. A dark purple line ran across the mound where the waistband had been. Evie closed her eyes and ran her fingers across the line. “She buys them two sizes too small,” she mumbled to Gracie. She pressed her face into the blanket and inhaled the smell of mildew. “I can breathe,” she said again, “What a f*****g concept.”

“Want to borrow my sweatpants?” Evie looked up again, and Gracie’s wide blue eyes loomed inches away from her face, her mouth working furiously on a piece of chewing gum as the smell of spearmint pierced the air.

Evie grabbed Gracie’s chin and turned her head away. “Yours won’t fit,” she said.

Gracie stepped back and looked down her legs, as if she had forgotten what they looked like. She stood there staring and chewing. She furrowed her brow and itched her scalp. She picked at a zit on her face with her index finger. “Nah,” she said eventually, “They’d basically fit.”

Evie rolled onto her back, raised her legs into the air, and peeled back the fabric until the pants were rolled around her ankles, inside out. She sat up again, and the white flesh of her thighs quavered as they landed on the bed. “My life would be so much easier,” she said, “If I had pants which f*****g fit me.”

“The color of the room is nice, at least,” Gracie said, twirling in a circle and gazing at the walls. “It’s cheerful, you know. Like sunshine.”

“Like stomach bile,” Evie said. She bent over, freed the pants her ankles, and flung them into the corner. “And I’m not going to dinner,” she told Gracie, “Not if it means wearing those things again.”

Gracie stopped twirling and stared at Evie with a wide-eyed pout. “Oh, don’t make me go alone,” she begged. “I’ll find you some new pants.”

“Can’t,” Evie said, “My mom paid a hundred bucks for those pants. She’ll kill me if I show up in something else.” 

Gracie’s mouth fell open. “A hundred!” She turned her back to Evie and stared at the pants in the corner, as if she’d only just noticed them lying there. “If my mom got me hundred dollar pants...”

“If nothing,” Evie said. “Your mom doesn’t buy hundred dollar clothes, because she’s not evil. My mom, on the other hand, is trying to kill with these f*****g pants.”

Gracie giggled, but her gaze remained fixed on the pants. “That’s going to take awhile,” she said. She raised a foot, as if she were about to take a step towards the pants, then put it back down again.

Evie scowled. “You’re laughing now,” she said. “Just you f*****g wait.”

Gracie raised her foot again and took a small step in the direction of the pants. “You shouldn’t swear so much,” she said. “My mom says, once you get used to swearing, you won’t be able to stop when you need to. Like at a job interview or a first date or a nice dinner.”

“Well I’m not going to dinner, so there you go,” Evie said, watching Gracie inch ever closer to the corner.

“Oh, do go,” Gracie came to a stop several inches away from the pants and stared at them, biting her lip.

Evie folded her arms and reclined against the wall. “You want to try on those pants, Gracie?”

“Oh, I couldn’t,” Gracie said.

“Yes, you could,” said Evie.  

“Could I?”

“What did I just say?”

 “Oh, thank you!” Gracie’s sweatpants fell to the ground, then she rushed into the corner and pulled the jeans up her legs. She zipped them up and stood there, her back still to Evie, staring down her legs again.

“They fit you?” Evie asked.

There was a beat of silence, followed by a small, “Yes.”

Evie eyed the fallen sweatpants, wondering if she might squeeze into them after all. “You like them?” she asked.

When Gracie turned around, her large blue eyes were filled with tears.

Evie sat up straight. “What’s the matter?” she asked.

The edges of Gracie’s mouth twitched upwards. “Oh, nothing,” she said. “They fit great.”

“Are you crying?” Evie asked.

“Crying,” Gracie said, as if she had never heard the word in her life. “Why would I be crying?” As she spoke, a fat, wet tear slid down her cheek.

“Well, because you are,” Evie said.

Gracie turned her head to the ceiling and blinked rapidly. “Oh, I don’t know,” she said, “I guess I just thought I would feel, well,” she wiped the tear away with the back of her hand, “different.”

“Different than what?” Evie asked. 

Gracie shrugged. “Oh, you know.”

“I really don’t,” Evie said.

“Different than….” Gracie gazed at some spot above Evie’s head and chewed her gum noisily, “than before I had the pants on!” As she spoke, her freckled cheeks tinged red and her brow furrowed, as if she had only just realized how foolish she sounded.

“Oh,” Evie said.

The yellow walls of the room echoed with profound silence.

“Well,” Evie said, “You’d better get going to dinner.”

The water welling in Gracie’s eyes overflowed and traced the freckles down her cheek. She was still chewing her gum, and she didn’t seem to notice when a drop of water dripped off her nose and landed on the inside of her bottom lip. Gracie raised her arm up and wiped her whole sleeve across her face. “I don’t feel like going anymore,” she said.

Evie pushed herself to her feet, suddenly quite aware of the way her thighs jiggled with her every move. She crossed the room and stepped into Gracie’s discarded sweatpants. The fabric stretched a bit around her thighs, but it was still better than the jeans. Then she turned around and examined Gracie. Gracie, with her messed-up blond hair and her slender frame and her large eyes. “I don’t know why you’re crying,” Evie said, “You’re gorgeous in those pants.”  

Gracie’s eyes were still fixed on the wall. “I know,” she said, “But it doesn’t matter.”

Evie crossed the room and flicked off the light switch. “Damn yellow color is giving me a headache,” she explained. She returned to the bed and sat down. “So this bed probably won’t fit both of us,” she began.

“I want to go home,” said Gracie.

“We could flip a coin,” Evie continued, “To see who gets the floor.”

“When we were little,” Gracie said, “Clothes weren’t like this. They were just meant to cover you up. Now, it’s like they’re holding you in.”

Evie tried to reach inside her pocket, but then she remembered she was wearing Gracie’s pants.

“That’s why we wear clothes all the time,” Gracie said. “To hold ourselves together. If we did go around naked, our guts would spill out all over the sidewalk.”  

“There’s a coin in your pocket,” Evie said. “The back pocket. The side ones are just for show.”

Gracie rummaged around in the pockets but came up empty-handed.

“Well, s**t,” Evie said. “I could’ve sworn I had change left over from that hot dog stand.”

Gracie patted the pockets again. “Nothing,” she said. She continued to stare down her legs at the pants.  “If they’re a hundred dollars,” she said, “Why don’t they even have real pockets?”

“I didn’t make them, did I?” Evie asked.

“Guess not,” Gracie said.

They sat in silence in the dark yellow room.   

“Do you think we really should go to dinner?” Gracie asked.

“Well,” Evie began, “I can’t go in my pants, because they’re too tight. But I can’t go in yours,”

“Because they didn’t cost a hundred dollars,” Gracie finished.

“Right,” said Evie. “So we can’t wear our pants.”

“But we can’t go naked, either,” Gracie said, “Or our guts will spill out in front of all our parents and their friends and everyone. It will be embarrassing.”

Evie rolled her eyes. “Our guts won’t spill out,” she said.

Gracie crossed her arms. “Why can’t we go naked, then?” she asked.

“You know why,” Evie said. 

“No,” Gracie said, “I don’t. Why should I?”

“Stop being immature,” Evie said.

“I won’t,” Gracie said, “I’d rather be immature than mature. I’d rather be a girl than a woman.”

“What do you mean?” Evie asked. Gracie didn’t answer. She was still staring at the floor. “Well you are, if it makes you feel better,” Evie said. She was just glad Gracie had stopped crying.

Gracie looked up again. “I am now,” she said, “But for how long?”

Evie pulled her legs up and sat Indian-style on the bed. “Nothing lasts forever,” she said.

Gracie spit her gum into her hand and held it between her thumb and index finger. She crossed the room and stuck it underneath the bed. “The taste is gone,” she explained.

“We can’t stay here forever, you know,” Evie realized.

A loud knock sounded on the door. “Eve! Come out, you’re going to be late.”

Evie leapt to her feet. “My mother,” she whispered. “Quick! Hide!”

“What?” Gracie asked. “Why?”

“Because we’re wearing the wrong pants, that’s why!” Evie hissed. She dropped to the floor and squeezed under the bed. She lay there, sandwiched between the underside of the bed and the floor, and watched as Gracie dropped to her stomach and tried slide in beside her. “No!” Evie grunted, putting a hand on Gracie’s face and trying to push her away, “Hide somewhere else! We won’t both fit!”

“There’s nowhere else to hide!” Gracie said, her voice somewhat muffled by Evie’s hand, “And I’m wearing your pants!”

“Come out girls!” There was another knock. “Eve! Grace! I know you’re in there!”

Evie moaned and flattened herself against the wall. Gracie pulled herself under the bed. She crammed her knees against Evie’s thighs and dug her bony elbow into Evie’s stomach. “F**k, I can’t breathe,” Evie gasped.

“Shh!” Gracie whispered. She pulled the folds of the blanket down over them just as Evie heard a key turn in the lock. The door creaked open, and seconds later, a harsh, artificial light filled the room. Evie clamped her hand over her mouth and nose and tried not to breathe. She could feel Gracie’s hot breath against her neck as her chest moved in and out. The sound of heels drew closer to the bed. Evie’s heart pounded in her ears. Her lungs screamed for air. The sound of heels stopped, and Evie stared at the shadow of her mother’s legs through the white veil of the blanket.

Then, her stomach growled.

A hand came down instantly and the white blanket disappeared. Evie’s shut her eyes against the light and let out a frustrated moan. “Eve! Grace! What on earth are you hiding for?”

Gracie swallowed loudly. “Evie’s pants don’t fit her,” she said.

“Get out of there,” her mother snapped. Reluctantly, Evie followed Gracie out from under the bed as her mother’s angry words filled the yellow room around them. “How many times do I have to tell you, Eve, those pants fit you perfectly, and you will wear them to dinner. Understand?”

“Yes,” Evie said, because she had to.

Her mother pointed at Gracie’s sweatpants. “Take them off,” she commanded her daughter. She pointed a finger at Gracie. “You, too, Grace,” she said.

The girls undressed, their faces burning red with shame, and exchanged pants. Evie managed to pull the pants up to her thighs, but then they got stuck. As she struggled with them, she glanced at Gracie, who was already fully clothed and standing there watching her, bit her lip again. Evie felt her cheeks grow warmer. “They don’t fit me, mom, honest,” she said.

“They’d better fit you,” her mother said. “I paid a hundred dollar for those pants.”

“Mrs. Gardner,” Gracie said suddenly, “Why’d you pay a hundred dollars for pants with no pockets?”

Her mother stared at Gracie until her face glowed red again. Evie pulled once more at the pants, but the waistband got stuck several inches below her hips. “They don’t fit, mom, I swear,” Evie said. As she spoke, she became aware of a large lump rising in her throat, and tears of anger burned in her eyes.

“Oh, this is ridiculous,” her mother said. She grabbed hold of the waistband and yanked the pants upward. Mrs. Gardner’s fingernails dug into her daughter’s flesh. The hands pulled and pulled until, finally, the waistband slid past Evie’s thighs and came to rest around her hips. “Do up your fly,” she said. Evie pulled up the zipper and forced the clasp shut. The metal pierced her stomach like a knife.  “There,” her mother said. “That was a lot of fuss about nothing, wasn’t it?”

“I can’t breathe,” Evie said. 

Her mother was already heading for the door. “You two had better be downstairs, ready to leave, in three minutes,” she said. “And don’t be late. You’re not little girls anymore. It’s time you started acting your age.”  The door swung shut behind her and the sound of high heels slowly faded into the distance.

Evie crossed the room and switched off the light. “That f*****g b***h,” she said.

Gracie stood in the center of the room biting her lip. “What should we do?” she asked.

Evie didn’t answer. She put her hands around her waist and stared down her belly. “If it wasn’t for my stupid stomach,” she said, “She never would’ve found us.”

“She probably would have,” Gracie said. “There’s not many places to hide in here.”

 Eve glanced at her. “Maybe,” she said. “Maybe not.” She reached for the door and held it open for her friend. “Should we go, then?”

Grace followed her into the hallway and the door slammed shut behind them.