by E. K. Blair
“Hey, Candace?”
Squinting my eyes against the bright sun, I look over at Jase. “Kimber just texted me.”
Closing my eyes again, I say, “We’re pretending, remember?”
And with that, the subject is dropped.
The next few days pass in a bit of a haze. Jase has classes during the day but stops by to check on me when he can. I spend most of my time in bed trying to sleep. Nights are rough. Something about the darkness. I have been having nightmares—bad nightmares. Jack is constantly in my dreams, tormenting me. I wake up in a state of confusion, screaming and crying; often having to run to the bathroom to throw up. I know I’m freaking Jase out, but he stays calm and holds me while I cry until I fall into another fit of sleep. He suggested that I call my doctor to see about getting on a sleeping pill. I will do just about anything to get Jack out of my head to get some rest. I’m exhausted, and it shows in my eyes.
By Sunday, the scratches on my face are hardly noticeable, which is a relief because I have to work this evening. I decide to go to the studio since I know it will most likely be empty, and I can have the place to myself. I haven’t danced all week, and I’m hoping that being back in the studio will make me feel a little more normal. Before I leave the apartment, I put on some makeup just in case I run into anyone. I am able to cover up the light scars on my face pretty well now that the ugly scabs are gone.
I breathe a sigh of relief as I pull into the studio’s parking lot and see that it’s empty. I head inside and proceed with my normal routine. Once my pointes are tied up and I’m stretched, I plug my iPod into the stereo system and decide against the barre for some much needed center work. I start going through various adagio and turn combinations. As I begin working the floor, I am relieved when my mind begins to emancipate, as it always does when I dance. All I think about is my turnout, posture, port de bras, and lines. Gliding through my movements and hearing the thuds of my pointes against the wooden floor are therapeutic in a way. I listen to the music that fills the room and move through several combinations that I know by heart and repeat them over and over. I don’t want this serene feeling to end, so I keep repeating the combinations. I feel surprisingly flawless for being out this past week, and I continue making my way through the different combinations.
A crash of thunder quickly brings me out of my euphoric state. I walk to one of the windows and look up into the sky to see dark clouds rolling in. I decide to pack up and head back to Jase’s before the storm hits. Taking off my pointes, I powder them and my feet before sliding them into my flip-flops. I sling my bag over my shoulder, run out, and hop into my car. When I turn the key, I look at the time on my dash and am shocked when I realize I’ve been dancing for over two hours. I don’t know how the time slipped away so fast.
As I drive, reality slowly starts creeping back in, and the weight in my chest returns. The thunder continues to rumble, and I feel like the weather fits my mood perfectly. The clouds open, and the rain begins to crash down on my windshield. I turn my wipers on high, but I struggle to see the road ahead. I pull into one of the empty parking lots on campus to wait until the rain lightens up. While sitting in the car, I listen to the rain beating violently against the steel.
For some reason, I get the urge to get out of my car. I open the door and step out into the rain. Closing the door, I lean against the car, and within seconds, I’m drenched. The beating of the raindrops against my delicate skin feels good, almost painful in a way—but good. I lean my head back and feel the pellets as they strike my face. I enjoy the biting sensation. With my eyes closed, I just stand there, wishing I could live here, in this vacant lot, alone, focusing on nothing more than the stinging pleasure of the storm as it batters me. Knowing that this will soon end, that the sun is lingering behind the clouds and I will be faced with the hell that is my life, my body slides down the side of my car, and I sit in a puddle of water on the dirty ground and cry.
Why didn’t I fight more? Why did I just lie there? I am constantly replaying that night in my head, wondering what I could have done differently. What happened at the party that made his mood suddenly shift? I know that I led him on, and I shouldn’t have. If only I could have just been honest with him from the start. Now I’m constantly haunted by his eyes, his voice, and the feel of his hands clamped around my mouth, keeping me from screaming.
He took so much from me. He took everything that wasn’t his to take. I had only been with one guy, and that experience was far from a loving one. Preston was drunk off of keg beer, and the whole thing lasted less than a few minutes before he passed out on top of me. Why is this my life? Why did I allow this asshole to take all that was good in me? I feel like nothing.
When the rain lightens up, I drag myself off the ground and slide back into my car, leaving puddles of dirty water on my leather seats. I drive the rest of the way in a complete daze, feeling drained and emotionally exhausted.
I wander aimlessly into the apartment and head straight to the bathroom to strip out of my soggy clothes and grab some towels. I wrap one of them around me and lie down on the floor, enjoying the cold tile against my face. I savor the numbness I currently feel and drift off.
Chapter Nine
After my unexpected nap on the bathroom floor, I’m finishing up my makeup and getting ready to go to work. I have managed to pull myself together as much as possible to try and resume my normal routine, but the knots in my stomach won’t seem to go away. I am nervous about seeing Roxy. I’m not sure what I will say if she notices the healing scars on my face. I think I have done a pretty decent job with my makeup, but I’m still nervous.
Walking out of the bathroom, I grab my purse and jacket then head out. Luckily, Jase hasn’t been home today. I really needed the alone time. He and Mark are spending the day together, but they said they would be here when I get off work in a few hours.
Before I pull out of my parking space, I swipe my phone to see how many more missed calls and texts I have from Kimber. Her texts have turned rude and so have her voicemails. I really can’t blame her though. Jase told me she came over the other afternoon when I was out running errands with Mark. She was pissed off and demanded to know where I was. Again, I told him to drop it, but I could tell he didn’t want to. I don’t want her mad at me, so I decide to finally send her a text.
Hey, I promise that I’m not mad at U. Just needed a little time away.
Will explain later. Love U.
If only I knew what the hell I was going to explain. I know I have to resolve this quickly because I will be going back to our house in a few days, and I really don’t need any more awkwardness.
Mark and I have been spending time together when he isn’t in class. I can see why Jase loves him. They are alike in many ways, and we have bonded pretty effortlessly. He’s wanted to stay over, but I am too embarrassed for him to witness the nightmares that seem to come every night.
As I drive to work, I listen to music and try my best to act normal. I’m not even sure what that is anymore, but I desperately crave it. I feel different, and I don’t like it. When I pull up to Common Grounds, my nerves intensify. I haven’t seen any of my other friends all week. Only Jase and Mark. Will Roxy be able to see right through me? Will she ask questions? My heart is racing, and I start taking slow deep breaths to calm myself. Getting out of my car, I walk straight in and towards the back to put my things away and get my apron. I pass Roxy, and she is busy helping a customer. When I reach the back room, I take a minute to try and pull myself together.
I take one last look at my face in the small compact mirror that’s in my purse before walking back out. Looking around, I notice that the place is dead. I really wish we were busy so that my interaction with Roxy would be limited. I’m nervous and want nothing more than to get back into my car and drive to Jase’s apartment. I walk slowly to one of the stools by the front counter and sit down.
“You feeling better?” Roxy asks.
Nervously, I lift my head and answer, “Yeah, thanks,” hoping she can’t see what I am hiding under my makeup.
“That’s good. I missed having you up here.” She walks over to sit beside me and continues, “So, I never did hear what happened with Jack.”
My body turns cold when she says his name, and I blurt out, “What do you mean?”
“The party? You telling him you weren’t interested?” she questions. “How did it go?”
“Oh, um . . . yeah, it was fine,” I say, stumbling over my words and hoping that will be enough to satisfy her, but I know that it won’t. I really want to be left alone right now. Maybe being normal isn’t what I want because all I want to do right now is run back to the bubble I just came out of. It’s safe there. No questions.
Roxy chuckles and says, “That’s all I get? Girl, you were freaking out. Seriously, what happened?”
I suddenly feel my ears heat, and before I can stop myself, I snap at her, “Nothing, I already told you. Can we drop it?”
I immediately feel bad, but I can’t do this. I stand up and walk straight back to the bathroom to try and compose myself. I lock the door behind me, and the tears are back. I quickly wipe them away and rest my hands on the sink. Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I start thinking about what excuses I could use to get out of here. How am I supposed to do this? I spend a few minutes settling my nerves before returning.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper as I sit back down next to Roxy.
She slides me a coffee and says, “Here. It’s okay. I won’t mention it again.”
“Thanks.”
After about an hour, the place starts to pick up, and I enjoy the much needed distraction. It’s been a little tense and uncomfortable as Roxy and I struggle for conversation. But now the place is full, and there is a line of customers. Roxy is working the register while I move about quickly, making various versions of lattes and espressos.
When the line dies down, I finally get a chance to lift my head and realize that it’s dark outside.
“What time is it, Rox?” I ask while I begin wiping down the counters.
“A little after ten,” she says over her shoulder as she is replacing the receipt tape in the register. When she finishes, she walks over and starts helping me wipe down the machines. We are both silent as we clean up and prepare to close.
When eleven o’clock rolls around, we shut everything down and lock up. Before I can head toward my car, Roxy pulls me in for an unexpected hug. The gesture makes my eyes prick with tears, but I quickly blink them away. When she pulls back, I can see concern in her eyes, and I know that she knows something is going on. How could she not? I have been acting weird all night.
“Have a good night, okay?”
“Thanks, you too,” I say, trying to avoid eye contact.
We both walk to our cars, and in an attempt to make this less weird, I look over my shoulder, and in a fake perky voice, I say, “See you Tuesday!”
“Yeah, see ya.”
When I walk into the apartment, Jase and Mark are in the kitchen cooking dinner. They have music playing loudly, so they don’t hear me when I enter. I stand there and watch them move around the kitchen, flirting with each other. Jase approaches Mark while he’s standing over the stove and wraps his arms around his waist, kissing him on the neck. A part of me feels a little sad—envious. Maybe I’m just not meant to ever have that. When Mark turns around to look at Jase, he sees me.
“Hey!” he says excitedly. “We’re making Italian tonight. You hungry?”
“Yeah, a little,” I say, walking toward the bedroom. Why am I suddenly feeling sad? I wish I could get a hold of my emotions. I should be happy for Jase and Mark, not pitying myself. God, I am so selfish.
Closing the door behind me, I toss my purse on the floor. Walking across the room, I sit on the edge of the bed and take a moment to myself to just be sad. I need to get it out now before going back out there. I am sure the boys are sick and tired of my depressing moods.
I hear the creak of the door opening while I’m sniffing and quickly wiping away my tears. I really don’t want to put a damper on the evening, so I paste on a smile before looking up to see Mark walking in the room.
“Hey, what’s up?” I say in a fake cheerful tone, pretending that I wasn’t just crying.
He closes the door and starts walking over to me. “What’s wrong?”
I watch him as he moves across the room and sits down beside me. He places his hand on my knee and gives a light squeeze. “Nothing, just a weird day at work. That’s all.”
With a friendly smirk, he teasingly says, “You lie.”
Not wanting to pretend, I just confess what’s got me in my mood. “You’re right,” I softly chuckle. “Honestly, I love you and Jase, so don’t take this the wrong way, okay?”
“Okay.”
“I see how happy the two of you are, and I can’t help but wonder . . . why not me? I know it’s selfish, but . . .”
I don’t finish, when Mark cuts me off and says, “You are not selfish.” Shifting on the bed, he turns his body to face me. He looks extremely serious as he stares into my eyes. “I know what you’re thinking, but stop. You will have that, I promise. Look, I can’t even imagine how much everything sucks for you right now, but this does not define you.”
Tears rim my eyes when Mark rests his hands on my shoulders and repeats himself sternly. “This doesn’t define you.” Leaning in, he kisses my forehead, and the tears slip out. He takes his thumbs, and wipes them off my cheeks. “It doesn’t, okay?”
“Why does it feel that way? Maybe you believe that, but . . .” Looking down, I shake my head before looking back into his eyes. “None of this makes sense to me.”
Tucking a lock of hair behind my ear, he says, “One day, this pain will make sense to you.” He pulls me in for a hug, and I try to believe his words, but it all sounds too good to be true.
I pull back and attempt to lighten the mood as I grin and ask, “So, what are you boys cooking for me?”
Mark smiles, but I clearly see the concern in his eyes. “Jase is the one who is doing everything. I’m not much of a cook. I’m trying to look helpful, but all I’m doing is stirring the pasta.” Laughing, he stands up, grabs my hand, and pulls me off the bed. “Come on, let’s devour the bruschetta while we admire Jase’s sexy ass moving around the kitchen.”
I smile, thankful for the humor, and say, “Absolutely.”
Walking into the kitchen, Jase strides over to me, pulls me in for a hug, and gives me a quick kiss. “Hey, sweetie. How was work?”
“Weird at first, but it wound up being a busy night, which was good,” I say as I walk over to the wine rack and select a bottle of Nero d’Avola. I uncork the bottle and pour three glasses of the floral Italian wine. As Mark and I settle at the bar, Jase picks up his glass and stands next to us. No toast is needed when the three of us clink our glasses before drinking.
Mark and I sit, chitchatting, while Jase slices up a baguette for the bruschetta. This is exactly what I needed tonight: a relaxing evening with my guys, good food, and wine.
“So, what are you cooking?” I ask Jase as he’s stirring a few pots on the stove.
“Lobster tortellini, vodka sauce, pan-fried asparagus, and roasted garlic bread,” he says as he moves around the kitchen.
“God, that sounds good!” I look over at Mark and ask, “Hey, didn’t your band have a show last night?”
“Yeah, we played at Blur. It was a great gig; the place was packed.”
“I’ve never been there before,” I say.
Jase looks over his shoulder at me and jokingly says, “Candace, you haven’t been anywhere.” He chuckles and then adds, “You should really hear them play sometime. You’d like their sound.”
The conversation halts when there is a knock at the door. Mark walks over to open it, and my stomach sinks when I see Kimber standing in the doorway. I jump off the barstool, and Jase is immediately by my side.
“Wh
at the hell is going on?” she asks. She is pissed, and understandably so. Walking in, she throws her purse on the couch, and with her hands on her hips, she continues, “You two have been avoiding me all week, and I have no clue what I did to piss you guys off!”
“We’re not pissed at you,” Jase reassures her, but by the look on her face, she’s not buying one word. “Candace just wanted a little time away, that’s all.”
“From me? I’m supposed to be your best friend?!”
I’ve seen Kimber worked up before, but not like this. She is visibly not only pissed, but I can tell that her feelings are hurt as well, which hurts me in return. It’s not my intention to hurt her at all. I love Kimber, and we have never had secrets between us until now.
“Why won’t you talk to me?” she demands.
“I’m sorry,” I say, as Mark heads back into the kitchen. I walk over, sit down on the couch, and quickly think of any reason to give her. She moves to stand in front of me, and I know she is waiting for an answer. Nervous, I start to speak again, “Jack and I got into an argument at the party. I was upset, he was drunk, so I called Jase to come pick me up.”
Jase butts in and adds, “I suggested she stay here in case he showed up at your house. That’s all.”
“So why couldn’t you just call me and tell me?” The look in her eyes is calling bullshit on our lie.
“I didn’t want you getting involved. You can sometimes overreact, and I just wanted everything to die down without any drama. It’s no big deal, and I haven’t heard from him. It’s over, so can we just drop it?” My hands are sweating; I hate even mentioning his name. I really want this conversation to be done with. I look up at Kimber, and she is shaking her head at Jase and me.
