Hold Your Breath

By Chigozie Maduchukwu

Email: tales.gozie@gmail.com

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Celine released a heavy exhale before taking another gulp of air.

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The grocery store had a refrigerated smell to it, and she could feel the taste of cilantro on her tongue. Next to her, the vegetable showers started, and a cool air conditioned breeze dampened her forehead. She grabbed the last item on her sister’s list, seven cucumbers.

Celine’s stubby legs made quick steps to the checkout lane. The store was nearly empty, not many people shopped for produce at 6:15am. Celine did.

With a chest full of air, she placed the food on the dirty black conveyer belt. She scowled at the ugliness of the platform, but reasoned that she would implore her sister to wash the fruits and vegetables twice.

The cashier, a sad looking frail girl whose face was possessed with freckles, let out a sleep-deprived yawn. She scratched her reddish-brown hair before scanning the items. Celine stood at the far end, waiting for the teen girl to finish scanning and ask for payment.

“That’ll be 45.87. Cash or card?”

Exhale. Big inhale.

Celine could not allow herself to breathe around the poor girl. She took two short steps to the machine and stuffed a bright blue debit card into the slot. After punching in her pin she stepped away again while the freckled girl bagged her items.

The cashier was rather exhausted. She spent all week studying for finals. Not to mention, the dust in Kansas was horrible for her asthma. The lack of quality sleep, and stress from schooling had left her with only hours of real shut eye.

But even this tired 17 year old knew that Celine was acting strangely. Kansas was not the place where folks ignored each other. Even if Celine was a few years older than she, it was an odd thing to be entirely disregarded. Even at 6:17am.

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Celine picked up the four plastic bags, nodded at the hard-working girl, and left the store. On her way out, she snuck in dozens of small grasps for air, happy to be able to consume the dry oxygen again.

It was not a typical experience for Celine. The young woman had much more self control, but she could not risk it this morning. Last night she had the most terrifying nightmare:

Celine was with her sister, Jene, and the almost toddler, Baby Joy, as they rode in the old family van down a particularly wide dirt road. Baby Joy kept crying, and Jene was doing her best to console the child by singing ‘If You’re Happy and You Know It.’ Her best motherly efforts fell on deaf ears. Instead, Baby Joy raised her own volume. Now she was screaming so loudly that the windows in the van began to shake.

The right side mirror shook so much that it shifted, and behind the van was a black car, driving dangerously close to them.

Celine tried to tell Jene that the car had been following them for quite some time. But, whenever she tried to speak, Baby Joy’s cries drowned her voice out. Jene was still singing, oblivious to the stalker.

Something felt off, as things always do in a dream. So Celine pulled down the passenger visor to get a good look at herself. She smiled in the small broken mirror, and all her teeth slipped out, leaving a bloody slimy set of streaks down her chin.

Baby Joy’s screams now caused the window right next to her sister to explode. Glass shards flew everywhere, and one landed in Jene’s left eye. The sharp piece pocketed itself into her face, and now blood was all over the steering wheel. Celine’s sister drove on, as if she felt no pain at all. Baby Joy continued to scream.

Celine tried for the door, but the handle was gone. There was no escaping this speeding terror.

The car behind them sped up, ramming into them from the back. Jene lost control of the wheel, and the car flipped.

In the next scene, Celine was on the road, with Baby Joy in her arms. Jene was nowhere to be seen. The cars had vanished. Instead, the pair were in front of a black tornado destroying everything in sight. Celine had felt this way before- a huge responsibility in her hands, and no one to help her. She was familiar with inevitable dangers. She was familiar with being alone.

Celine looked down at Baby Joy. To her pleasant surprise, the child was peacefully asleep.

That’s when Celine woke up from her dream. The bed was wet with tears and her heart was still racing. She climbed out of her bed and boiled a cup of hot water. She reminded herself that this was why she lived alone. The sad fact was, if anyone had been in the house while Celine had her nightmare, they likely would have died. Suffocated by her anxiety.

As Celine looked out of her window she noticed a neat row of ducks on her porch. The mother and her ducklings, all bright yellow in the midwestern early light. Each of them, on their side, lifeless. Celine sighed in disappointment, apologized to the ducks, and then picked them up, one by one, and threw them into the pond. She tossed all the animals she killed into that watery grave.

That was this morning. Celine now sat in the van, checking the windows for signs of damage. Everything seemed in order, so she allowed her breathing to reach a natural rhythm and forget the frightening dream.

Jene needed Celine to pick up Baby Joy. Baby Joy’s name was actually Barbara Joy Burnett. She was named after her own mother, Barbara Jene, who was named after her mother- Barbara. Baby Joy’s great grandmother, however, had dubbed her ‘Baby Joy,’ and since then, the nickname stuck. Most things that old woman said were held as law, as she held herself as the matriarch of her immense family.

Jene and Devon, Celine’s brother-in-law, were both ill from severe food poisoning. Devon’s company had hosted a gala, but the sushi bar was spoiled. His employer had given everyone the week off to recover and was handling any extemporaneous medical costs. Jene, who worried about her ability to care for Baby Joy, called Celine to pick her up.

Celine did nothing to hide her hesitancy. She just was not fond of kids. It was no one’s fault. Kids made her feel on edge, and when she was on edge it was usually better not to be anywhere near her. Especially since kids often did dumb things. Celine felt worry when kids did dumb things. And everyone suffered when she was worried.

Celine’s phone went off, the ringtone was a live recording of Jordan Sparks, ‘No Air,’ that featured Chris Brown. Celine, who could never be around crowds, relied on her cousins to facetime her when they were at concerts. Listening to the facetime calls brought her happiness, but also immense solitude. She stopped the phone’s ringing and answered the call.

“Yes, Jene?”

“Oh wow, I didn’t think you’d be up this early. Baby Joy started to dial you,” Jene said ‘you’ like ‘yew’ and was drawn out in her vowels. Her accent was thickening, and her time in California faded with everyday she spent with midwesterners.

“I bought the groceries, so I’m on my way to pick her up now.”

Jene was silent for a bit,

“Celine, you didn’t have to buy those groceries so early. I’m sure you would have been-”

“You know I can’t risk that,” Celine said, cutting Jene’s reasoning short.

The woman meant well. She wanted to see Celine thrive. It broke her heart to see her baby sister cooped up like a prisoner in a big home all on her own. The entire family understood of course. Celine was born with something that made interaction extremely difficult.

“Thank you so much for taking Baby Joy to Grandma’s. I ‘preciate you.”

Celine grunted an acceptance of the gratitude. None of her other sisters were near enough to take the baby. And after that idiot babysitter nearly dropped baby Jackson, Jene had a strict “no stranger” policy. On top of that, Grandma finally stopped driving (after much argument). And no one had seen Uncle John at all since his daughter passed.

This left Celine alone with the responsibility of chauffeuring her niece from point A to point B. Joy felt it would be good practice for Celine. Celine felt differently.

Celine started the van and made the forty-five minute journey to her sister’s apartment in the city. Leaving early was a necessity since Celine became very anxious in heavy traffic. It was dangerous to be around her when she was anxious.

***

Celine pressed the apartment’s buzzer, number 437. The front door immediately dinged, letting her in. Celine walked into the beautiful vintage lobby cautiously, making sure there were no people around her. Once the coast was clear, she clicked the elevator button, and headed upwards to floor four.

As per Celine’s instructions, Jene had all of Baby Joy’s things ready outside the front door. Celine knocked twice, and heard Devon’s loud footsteps approach.

The man looked ill, and the inside of their apartment reeked of heating pads, pepto bismol, and acidic vomit.

“Thank you so much for taking her Celine. I’m not sure what’s wrong with the car,” Devon said as Jene handed Celine the car seat with the sleeping Baby Joy tucked inside.

“I just changed and fed her, and if you’re quiet, she should sleep the whole way to grandma’s,” Jene said. She was touching Celine’s arm tenderly.

There was an awkward silence between the three of them. Devon and Jene looked at Celine like an injured puppy. Celine felt uneasy.

“Celine, we miss you,” Devon said. He spoke for both him and his wife.

Celine had last visited them well over a year ago. She wanted to meet the newborn. Unfortunately, she could not visit hospitals for too long. The institutions of healing and death made her tense. It was a horrible thing to be sick in a hospital while also being near a tense Celine.

Celine thus kept all her interactions to video calls and the occasional distanced wave and air hug.

“Jene, I really wish you just asked a babysitter to do it. I know one guy, I know it’s a lil weird, but I promise he’s not weird, he would’ve been just great. I mean- I’m happy to do it, I am, but you know me. And you know how things are. And you know why I can’t be here…” Celine trailed off. She had forgotten the point she was trying to make.

“Forty minutes Celine. Just drop her off, and then I promise we won’t put you in a position like this ever again,” Jene gave Celine’s soft arm a gentle squeeze.

Celine shrugged her sister’s hand off of herself and bent down to pick up the baby and the baby bag. She nodded, like a soldier off to war, and headed off to Grandma’s.

Celine approached the elevator and pressed the button. She looked down at the sleeping child, skin pure and delicate. Baby Joy’s wide eyes were closed tight. Celine wondered if babies ever had nightmares. Celine hummed a little nursery rhyme, and then realization slammed her. She kept trying to convince herself that she hated kids… but that was not truly the case. She loved them. She loved them so much she could never be around them.

That’s right. Celine recalled that she had once wanted to teach elementary kids. That was back when she could be around other people. The memories flooded back to her like waves cooling sun burnt toes.

In the fourth grade, Celine had a presentation about what she wanted to be when she was older. Celine’s mother encouraged her to say something like a doctor, to remind these ‘white children that Black people study medicine too.’ Celine’s father was different, he thought she should say firefighter to scare off boys.

Nine year old Celine did not want to become a doctor nor a firefighter.

Celine wanted to be just like her Uncle John. A school teacher.

The elevator dinged, rather loudly, and Baby Joy stirred uncomfortably. Celine worried the child would wake up prematurely.

But looking up, a tall woman, dressed head to toe in red, with obnoxiously red lipstick, stood in the elevator. Her wide smile revealed lipstick residue on her buck teeth, and without even asking, she bent down to a half squat (rather impressively in her heels) and said,

“Awwww. Good morning little baby!”

Floor 3

Celine’s eyebrows creased instantly, annoyed by the woman’s lack of consideration. Baby Joy was clearly asleep, but now woke up, bug-eyed, staring at the hideous and loud woman.

Thankfully, this was not enough to disturb Celine’s anxiety. She was just mildly irritated at the woman. Her breathing remained controlled.

Baby Joy reacted differently. Her lungs carried her voice throughout the floor as the elevator doors shut.

“Shh, shh, it’s alright little baby! Ooo don’t cry little baby!” the dumb woman kept saying.

Celine lifted the car seat and had Baby Joy face her instead. She smiled understandingly at the red-woman, but internally cursed her for ruining Baby Joy’s peace.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to wakeer ur ups,” the woman started to slur her speech strangely.

Floor 2

Celine looked up at her, and the woman stumbled and tried to catch herself on the inside handrail of the elevator. Baby Joy’s screams got louder.

Celine watched in horror as the woman tried to gasp for air. Only for nothing to enter her lungs. She looked like she was drowning. The woman fainted and crumpled to the floor.

Celine stared at Baby Joy, at the tears running down the child’s fat cheeks, and the clenching of her tiny hands. Celine glanced at the woman, losing oxygen to her brain with every second. A disappointing truth set in.

Baby Joy had the Tornado Blood.

Lobby

Picking up the car seat and the baby bag, Celine sprinted out of the elevator and into the beat up green van. She latched Baby Joy into the middle seat and triple checked to see if she was secure. Celine hopped into the front seat, started the car, and skirted off into the street. Baby Joy’s cries were subsiding now, yet Celine’s heart had trouble slowing.

The speed limit was 50, but she was rocking 65 and not slowing. Flashbacks to that fateful day in fourth grade plagued Celine’s mind as she drove. The girl who had stuck a huge pink wad of bubble gum into Celine’s hair right before the presentation. How the school nurse could barely get it out. Even how the class was whispering about it when it was her turn to present. That embarrassment struck her soul like a lightning bolt. She lost control.

At that moment, thirteen years ago, Celine took a deep breath to try to calm herself.

Simultaneously, she stole the oxygen from everyone else in the classroom. Everyone, including the teacher, slumped from oxygen deprivation. At age 9, Celine was the youngest to date to inherit the family curse.

Uncle John, who was teaching at the school, opened the door moments later. He planned to record her presentation for her parents, but was a little late from recess duty. He took one look around the classroom and realized what Celine had done. Picking her small frame up tenderly, he left the classroom. Celine was enrolled in a virtual homeschool from that day onward. Unlike Uncle John, who earned his curse much later in life, she never learned to contain her distress.

Sirens flashed behind Celine, whipping her back into reality. A black and white police car was tailing her, with blue and red lights alerting her to her criminality.

Celine looked back at Baby Joy and Baby Joy looked back at her.

She parked the car and tried to control her breathing.

The frustrated baby started to fuss. She did not like it when the car stopped.

***

“Ma’am, do you know how fast you were going?”

Celine kept her breath as shallow as possible, taking in only sips of air.

“Sixty-five,” she said quickly after handing him the license and registration of the ancient car.

The officer looked in the back at Baby Joy with his reflective glasses. He waved as friendly as possible.

Baby Joy, however, took it as a threat and began to throw a tantrum.

“I’ll leave you with a warn-war-whoa my head,” the officer held onto the car for balance.

Celine’s heart was drumming inside her chest. She felt her face flush from embarrassment. Just like all those years ago, she started hyperventilating.

The officer fell to his knees, then fell backwards onto his back. His body was contorted, but his face looked as if it was at peace.

Celine sped off.

Five. That’s how many children had been born between Celine and Baby Joy. None of Celine’s cousins, nieces, or nephews had the Tornado Blood inside of them. The family allowed themselves to believe that the curse had ended with Celine.

Yet here Baby Joy was. Another child who could- literally - knock the wind out of you.

This was the same curse that pushed Cousin Sid to run away.

This blood forced Aunt Lass to take her own life.

These lungs took Uncle John’s daughter away from him. His own lungs during a heart attack had killed his loving child who was trying to save him. That was when he ran away from everyone.

They called it Tornado Blood on account of the fact that every tornado had what scientists call a ‘death zone’ where little to no oxygen is present. The curse usually presented itself when someone was in their adulthood, giving them plenty of time to learn how to regulate their emotions. Celine was the earliest one to date- nine years old was unheard of.

Now Baby Joy, hardly fifteen months, was officially the youngest child with the active blood.

How could anyone expect a baby to learn to regulate their emotions? Every tantrum would result in a life-threatening experience. The only ones who Baby Joy could safely be around were others like her. And Uncle John had purchased a home in the woods and shut the doors ten years ago.

Celine looked at the baby bag in the passenger seat next to her, then at Baby Joy’s damp eyes. The pair had just run from accidentally suffocating an officer.

Celine realized that she could never bring Baby Joy back. She would always be a threat to her parents. Jene and Devon would never be safe. And she certainly needed to avoid Grandma and the rest of the normal family.

Celine made a sharp right turn off the road and into a side path.

There was no way Celine would raise this child herself.

It was time to see Uncle John.

END

This story is owned by Chigozie Maduchukwu (Copyright)