When they reached the door to her stairwell, Casey had a flashback of the night they met. She wondered if they would share another steamy kiss? Should I invite him upstairs? She resolved to make herself wait, knowing in her heart that she was not ready to be intimate with another man. Also, there was the issue of Sammie sleeping on the couch in her living room. When she finally gave herself to Conor, she did not want her unexpected roomie listening to their every moan, pant, and scream. Thinking of the impending sex made her loins ignite. She needed to get upstairs, and fast!
“Can I say somethin’, love?” Conor said, interrupting her sexy thoughts.
“Sure.”
With a serious look on his face, Conor said, “I know that we just met, and I know that we don’t have a grasp on one another yet, so I hope I am not bein’ too forward. I just…” He paused and looked into her eyes. “I feel somethin’ inside meself telling me not to let ya go. I feel somethin’ with ya that I have never felt with any other gal, and before I go on gettin’ my hopes up that ya feel the same about me, I just ought to ask ya. Do ya think that we could do this again sometime?”
The innocent way that he asked amused her. In answer to his question, she placed her hands on either side of his chiseled face and leaned up to kiss him. As he softly stroked her tongue, and ran his along her lips, she became deeply aroused. Need to stop! Pull away! Get upstairs!
She reluctantly pried herself away and asked, “Does that answer your question?” Where was this confidence in her coming from? There were many traits Conor brought out in her that she was previously unaware that she possessed. He nodded.
“Thank you for dinner. I had a wonderful time. Call me soon.” She turned and left him on the street, stunned by her confident kiss.
Once upstairs, something told Casey to go over to the window. Conor was still there, lightly rubbing the tips of his fingers against his lips. It was almost as if he could still feel her there. She pressed her fingers to her lips as well. The connection between them was on a completely different level than what she was used to. Could they possibly be falling for each other already? She saw Conor smile and turn to walk away. Casey’s heart was full. She was so happy in this moment, she felt as though she could burst into tears. She missed him already.
As she turned around, she realized that Sammie was asleep on the couch. She must have been having a nightmare, because she tossed and turned, and made little moans in her sleep. Casey grabbed a blanket and covered her friend. Though she could not wait to dish to her best friend about her perfect date, she was glad Sammie had not waited up for her. She needed time to think—to stew in her thoughts, in her memories, in her past, and in her future.
Chapter 7
Casey shot straight up in her bed with a gasp that left her coughing. Covered in sweat and tears, she looked at the clock. 1 a.m. again. She began weeping uncontrollably. The nightmare from which she had just awoken was so violent and disturbing, she feared she would never recover. And that sound—oh, that sound would haunt her forever. She had been dreaming of the accident again, except this time it had been slightly altered.
She was standing close to the SUV, which was engulfed in large flames. She was inhaling large amounts of smoke, nearly choking. She could feel the searing of her skin, and though she attempted to back away, she could not move. The smell of burnt rubber and leaking oil filled her nostrils. She smelled something unrecognizable, a putrid stench that assaulted her senses and had her retching into the flame. Was it the smell of burning flesh? She retched again. In a panic, she struggled with all of her strength to turn and run, but she was unable. Then she heard it. Her eardrums nearly exploded with the piercing cries of a child—her child.
Sitting in her bed, she rocked back and forth and wept. “I’m sorry. I am so sorry,” she cried over and over again.
Hours later, when she had calmed herself and dried her eyes, Casey lay in her bed. She had not been able to fall back to sleep—who could? The sun had just risen, and though she felt like hammered ass, she forced herself to get out of bed. If she could just get up and around, she could possibly shake the immense sorrow she felt. Just as she was gathering the strength to move, Casey heard the thundering of footsteps in her living room, followed by the loud slam of a door. What the hell? Casey thought as she looked at the clock. It read 7 a.m., and Sammie was no early riser.
She opened her bedroom door and crossed over to the bathroom on the other side of the apartment. She knocked, and heard no answer from within. “Sammie, are you okay?” she asked. She heard a groan, followed by the sound of her best friend getting sick. “Sammie? What’s wrong?” Hearing no reply, she opened the door to see Sammie on her knees, with her head halfway in the toilet. “Sammie?”
When she caught a glimpse of Sammie’s face, Casey barely recognized her. Below her eyes were smoky circles, and her face was an odd shade of green and gray. Casey hadn’t seen her look this bad since their freshman year of high school when she had eaten four chili dogs on a dare and washed it down with a half a handle of McCormick vodka.
“Drink too much last night?” Casey asked, trying to contain her laughter.
Sammie looked at her with sadness in her eyes and said, “I think I am pregnant.” Casey’s smile fell away from her face.
“What?” Casey said, bewildered. Shocked, she began to remember when she had found out that she was pregnant. She had worn on her face that same shade of green-gray. She had tossed and turned in her sleep, holding her stomach, trying not to vomit. Jace had found her in the bathroom in the same position that Sammie was now. She had said the same thing to him, his reaction being utterly unexpected. “We are going to have a baby?” he had screamed, his face lighting up in a way unfamiliar to her. It had been one of the happiest moments of her life. Casey pulled herself from the memory, and returned her attention to her friend.
“Casey, I am sorry. I didn’t know when I came. I swear it.” Tears flooded her eyes. “I will leave if you want.”
Casey was confused. “What are you talking about? Of course I don’t want you to leave.”
“You don’t?” Sammie asked, tears now flowing freely from her darkened eyes. “I just figured that this would be hard on you. That you might not want to be reminded of, you know…”
Casey understood what Sammie was getting at. It did make sense that she might be saddened to have a constant reminder of her dead child running around. But as she thought about it, her misery would be so much more unbearable without Sammie here. “Don’t be silly, Sammie! You are my best friend.” Sammie smiled, her cheeks turning a faint shade of pink.
“What are we going to do?” she asked.
“First things first, let’s make sure that this is the real deal. We will go from there.” She walked over to her friend and bent to hold her tight. Casey may not have been a mother any longer, but she still knew a few things about pregnancy and childbirth. No matter what she felt, she would not leave her best friend to do this alone. Nobody should have to endure a difficult time on their own. She was aware of this now.
Later that day, Casey was grateful for the fact that she had an appointment scheduled with Dr. Roma. There was so much on her mind that she needed to sort, and she was having a hard time getting through it on her own. She sat in the waiting area, fidgeting with the brochures. She felt uneasy about her appointment, and she really could not understand why. Looking at the brochures, she was intrigued by one. It read:
THE ART OF MOVING ON
-A Guide To Letting Go-
Casey gazed at it until Dr. Roma appeared at the door, and said, “Come on back, Casey.” She snagged the brochure and shoved it in her purse. She was aware that Dr. Roma had seen, but hoped she wouldn’t bring it up. She could put no explanation to why she grabbed that specific brochure.
Inside the office, Casey plopped down on the plush couch across from the doc’s chair. The office was rather old-fashioned, dowsed in deep forest colors. The décor matched Dr. Roma perfectly. It was regal and eleg
ant, even foreign, which paired nicely with the good doc’s accent. Casey was unsure which country she was from, but she loved the way her voice sounded. There was something mysterious about her, much like the woodland décor of her office.
Casey felt antsy and rose to pace about the office. “Casey, you seem anxious today. Has something happened since our last meeting?” Where to begin? Casey thought.
“Well, yeah. A lot has happened,” she began. “First of all, I met the most amazing man, and I am terrified that I may be falling for him. This happened simultaneously with the fact that my best friend from Texas showed up on my doorstep single and pregnant, with no place to go. All the while, I am having nightmares about my past that seem to be getting more gruesome. It is almost as if I am being punished for trying to move on. I don’t think that Jace and the baby want me to leave them. I don’t know if I want to leave them.”
“Wow. You have been busy.” Dr. Roma’s lighthearted attempt at humor irked Casey.
“This is not funny,” Casey said in a stern tone.
“I know it isn’t. We can work through this, one thing at a time. Let’s start from the beginning. Tell me about this man,” the doc replied.
Casey told her all about Conor—how they had met, and about the instant connection they shared. She told her about the chemistry between them, and how time had stood still when they locked eyes, or lips. She went on and on, not leaving out a single detail about their first meeting and the perfect first date they had the night before. When she had thoroughly exhausted the subject, she asked, “You think I am still too screwed up to let anyone else in, don’t you?”
“No, Casey, in fact I don’t,” she stated. “I think that though there is no specific time limit on how long one should grieve, you are finally ready to start picking up the pieces and begin again. Fate seems to be assuring you of this.”
Casey was taken aback. “If I am ready to move on, then why am I still having nightmares? Jace obviously does not want me to leave them behind.”
In response, Dr. Roma sported her serious face and looked Casey directly in the eye. “I know you probably do not want to hear this, Casey, but I have to be blunt. You may not like what I have to say, but I implore you to listen and actually hear me. Jace is dead. He does not want anything anymore. Letting go is not the same thing as leaving, because they are the ones who left. Jace and your infant left you behind. Of course, it was not their choice to leave this world so early, but they did. Once you accept that, you can begin to move forward. Until that time, you will remain in this unhealthy period of guilt and grief.”
Tears rushed to Casey’s eyes. Somewhere deep inside herself, she knew that Roma was right, but she just could not accept it. “You don’t know what the fuck you are talking about.” Without another word, she grabbed her purse and stormed from the office, slamming the door forcefully behind her. Out on the street, the level of fury building inside of her was unprecedented. She felt a scream rising like bile in her chest as she swung her purse toward the brick wall of the office, beating it wildly. She cursed as she swung, “Fuck you, Dr. Roma. Fuck you! You have no idea what you are fucking talking about. Why do I even fucking pay you?” She continued beating, uncaring about her appearance to passersby on the street. She continued cursing the doctor, until something different escaped her mouth. Just as the strap on her purse gave way and her personal belongings flew through the air, Casey screamed, “Fuck you, Jace!”
Surprised at the words that escaped her lips, she dropped what remained of her purse and turned to slide down the brick wall. There, leaning against the cool bricks on a fairly busy street in Boston, Casey buried her face in her hands and sobbed. She wept uncontrollably for exhausting moments, so long she thought she might have been there an hour. All the while, she felt loneliness like she had never known. She felt despair, but she did not have to. Jace and her son were gone, and that was that. She knew in that moment that she had to accept the fact that they would never return.
After her emotional rant and the revelation that followed, Casey felt beaten. She wanted nothing more than to sleep, but in this moment, she needed to drink. Prepare for a bender, she thought to herself. Though she thought that Sammie might be worried when she didn’t return, she did not bother to call or send a text. Right now, she needed to drink alone in silence. She did not want to think, nor did she want company. Tonight was to be a release from the infectious thoughts in her head. She had to let herself get lost, and the best way to do that was at the bottom of a glass, or bottle, or both.
Hours later, Casey was officially plastered. She tried to remember the last time she had been this bad off, but the thought got lost in translation. She wandered around the street, barely able to see or stand, and finally surrendered herself to the intoxication. She needed help getting home, and she knew it. She sat in the street, unaware of any of her surroundings, and somehow managed to dial Sammie’s number. Close to an hour later, Sammie managed to find her, though Casey’s assumptions of the cross-streets near her location were way off. They took a cab ride home, which was the last thing Casey remembered before it was lights out.
Chapter 8
She woke the next morning with a blinding migraine. Thankfully either she or Sammie, had thought to close the blinds, but the bit of light seeping through added to her misery. Her mouth tasted like she had been sucking on a cotton ball, and she was having trouble getting her eyes to focus. What the hell happened last night? She scanned the room, hoping that her eyes would stop floating. She thanked God when she spotted the bottle of aspirin and the glass of water on her bedside table. She figured that was Sammie’s doing. Casey was usually too hammered to plan ahead for the morning after a bender.
After she had downed the bitter pills, and drank the water so fast she thought she thought she might vomit, she gathered enough strength to follow the scent of coffee. When she walked out of her room, Sammie was sitting at the modest dining room table, sipping a cup of her own. The smell of the freshly brewed pot assaulted Casey’s senses, and her mouth began to water.
“What happened to you yesterday?” Sammie asked, a concerned look now occupying her face. Her color had seemed to return, and she looked exceedingly better than the day before. It was a good thing, too, because Casey did not think that she could handle Sammie being sick today. She felt bad enough for the both of them.
She replied simply, “Long story. Coffee first.”
When she had downed her second cup, and was feeling a bit less like death, she took a seat at the table across from her best friend. She knew that Sammie deserved a full explanation, as she probably thought Casey’s disappearance the day before was due to her “big news.” Casey also desperately wanted to tell her about her date with Conor, because she had yet to have the opportunity.
“Well, I went to see my shrink yesterday. I told her all about Conor and our date, which I will get to in a bit, and she hit a sore spot. I spent the rest of the day trying to sort things out at the bottom of every bottle I could get my hands on,” Casey told her.
Sammie looked confused, and a bit relieved as she said, “So it wasn’t about me and the possible baby?” Casey shook her head and Sammie exhaled loudly. “Whew, I thought that I had caused this. Thank God! I was so worried that you were mad at me.”
Casey took another sip of coffee and said, “Nope. Not you. Just damn Dr. Roma, whose main goal in life is to make me realize that Jace really is dead and I have to move on.”
Sammie looked at her sternly and carefully said, “Well, he is.”
Casey hated repeatedly hearing that. She knew he was dead. She did not need the constant reminder. And she was on the road to recovery. It was moving on that was going to be the hardest task. One good thing had come from her bender last night, however. Somewhere between a beer and couple of shots, she had told herself that Dr. Roma was right. It was time to begin picking up the pieces. “Jace and my son are dead.” She said it aloud, suffering through the words. Uttering them tasted like bitter po
ison in her mouth. Her eyes had been full of tears, her heart full of daggers. Even saying it out loud, she was unable to fully accept it.
Sammie smiled, but the concerned look remained on her face. Casey felt that her friend was treading lightly as she said, “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Nope,” she answered simply.
“Okay then,” Sammie said. She was obviously relieved not to have to delve into the middle of Casey’s grief. She has too much on her plate anyhow, Casey thought. “Well then, let’s talk about the first date.”
Casey smiled and felt her face flush. As she told her friend about the night she had spent with Conor, the stress from the day before dripped away, and she realized that she missed him. His presence in her life lit a furnace that had long been cold and still. There would be no coming back from the feelings that he spurred within her. Telling the tale of their date, which seemed almost movie-worthy, Casey wished she could see him again today. She pushed the thought aside instantly. She had a hangover that was on another level, and she felt that the day would be better spent in the company of Sammie. They hadn’t had a girl’s day out in years, and there was no doubt that they both could use one.
“Let’s get dressed and have a day for us. We haven’t had a date in so long,” said Casey.
Sammie nearly knocked over her coffee with excitement. “Yes! I want you to show me around the city. I have barely even left the apartment since I got here.”
“Deal,” said Casey as she rose from the table to get ready.
Later that day, the girls had exhausted both themselves and their credit cards. The day had begun with pedicures—Casey had always felt that a nice foot scrub and nail painting could rid the soul of any stress. She had been right! Both of their moods seemed more upbeat after a little TLC. Casey had then taken Sammie to Regina’s. She was not at all surprised to find that her friend loved the gigantic slices of Heaven as much as she did.
The Art of Moving On (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 5
