Breathe Me In Read Free Page A

she’d just hit the dirt. There it was again- my inability to mind my own business. My heart going soft. Me being a sucker. Maybe no one was nice to her because she was a bitch. But I knew most likely she was a bitch because people had taken advantage of her.
    There it was- a protective surge. It happened far more than was convenient.
    “Do you have a name?” I asked when she still didn’t respond.
    There was a pause, like she was weighing whether or not she should tell me before she said, “I’m Anya.”
    “Is that your real name or fake?”
    The corner of her mouth turned up slightly. “I guess you’ll never know.”
    That made me laugh. “I guess not. Okay, Anya, or Mary or Sara or whoever you are. Let’s grab your son and get you some lunch.”
    Given the face she made at being called Mary and Sara, I decided her name really was Anya. It suited her. Exotic. That was definitely the word for her.
    “Thanks,” she said, begrudgingly. “I left my purse on the bus by accident.”
    “Do you want to borrow my phone and call someone to pick you up?”
    She shook her head. “I don’t know the number by heart.”
    That was probably everyone now. If I had to call any of my younger siblings, I wouldn’t know their numbers. “Is there another way you can contact them? Social media or anything?”
    “I don’t have any of those accounts anymore.”
    That seemed unusual to me. Everyone had at least one account, but then again, this didn’t look like a woman who had a lot of free time to post on Twitter or put foodie pics on Instagram. We approached Kasey and the baby and she reached out for her son.
    “Thanks for feeding him,” she said to my sister. “I’m surprised he’s so calm. He’s not big on strangers normally.”
    “Like his mother,” I commented wryly.
    Anya shot me an annoyed glance. But instead of speaking, she just kissed the top of her son’s head. The baby was wearing a one-piece terry cloth pajama outfit and I wondered if she had other clothes for him. She was only carrying the diaper bag.
    “How long are you visiting Portland?” I asked Anya casually as I took the empty food container from Kasey. “Kas, it’s about time for your bus.”
    “Yep.” She stood up and gave me a one-armed hug. “Bye, bro. Keep it off the streets.”
    I winced. “Don’t talk Douche. It’s not a good look on you.”
    She laughed and waved to Anya. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
    Slinging her backpack over her shoulder, she walked away, not a care in the world. I’d never been that naïve. I hoped she would stay that way. Anya, on the other hand, looked like she’d never been anything other than fully aware of the hardships and bullshit in life. I guess we had that in common.
    “So, who are you visiting?” I tried again, when I realized I hadn’t really given Anya a chance to respond.
    “My… sister.”
    That sounded like a lie. Or like there was a story there. “Do you need a ride?”
    She shook her head. “I’m just going to walk there now. I don’t have a car seat and it won’t take me long.”
    That really was taking stubborn to a whole new level. “You need to eat something first.”
    “I’m fine.”
    “Do you have any diapers, or any more food for the baby? What is his name, by the way?”
    Her voice and her eyes softened when she glanced down at her son. “Asher.”
    “Let me give you some money at least, so you can get a few things.” I pulled out my wallet. I had forty in cash and I tried to hand it to her. She physically took a step back.
    Frustrated, I took the diaper bag from her in one angry motion and put the money inside the interior pocket. There was almost nothing in the bag. One diaper, a box of wipes, a pacifier, one pair of baby jeans, a onesie, a bra and panties, and a crumpled up empty brown bag with a grease spot on it, like it had held an egg sandwich or something. That was it. She seriously was traveling with nothing but the clothes on her back.
    I dug a pen out