by S. Walden
Cadence said nothing.
“I’m not trying to compete with you or have your life. I wasn’t expecting to fall in love with Dylan. I wasn’t expecting him to fall in love with me. We’re not trying to copy you and Mark.”
Silence.
“Mark has a nice friend. He acts immature sometimes, but he’s actually really smart and insightful. I like being with him. He treats me like a lady. He wants to take care of me.”
Cadence walked to the kitchen for a glass of water.
“Older men are where it’s at,” Avery continued. “They have their shit together. They’re in control. They wanna settle down. It’s attractive. I see why you fell for Mark.”
Cadence emerged from the kitchen and eyed her friend suspiciously.
“Okay, yes. I wished for a while that I had something like what you have with Mark. I was a tad bit jealous because I saw how happy you were. How safe you felt. And when you would tell me about the little things he’d do for you to show you he cared, it made me feel lonely. I wanted something like that. I realized Gavin wasn’t it. Didn’t make a difference that he was older. Older doesn’t necessarily mean better. So I’m not really sure why I said older men are where it’s at.”
Cadence sat down on the club chair and drank her water. She didn’t even think about offering Avery a drink.
“At first, I just wanted to get laid. But Dylan wouldn’t sleep with me. He said he liked me—that he wanted to do things right. I didn’t understand what that meant until he showed me. I think Mark discouraged it at first until he saw that Dylan was serious. You wouldn’t know any of this because you’ve been absent.”
“It’s embarrassing.”
“What’s embarrassing?” Avery asked.
“Our story is one thing, but come on. You two are just making it look absurd and silly. Go date a guy your own age,” Cadence said.
“You’re not,” Avery pointed out.
“My story isn’t your story,” Cadence argued.
“I know that. I’m not trying to live your story, Cadence. I’m trying to show you that I’m happy. Dylan’s happy. Why can’t you be happy for us?”
Why couldn’t she? She struggled with it for the past several weeks—the inability to be happy for a friend she cared so much for. Why? It was silly not to feel glad that Avery found a nice guy. She could only chalk it up to her anger at Mark. She was directing it at everyone. Well, except Carrie.
Carrie.
She’d managed to forget about the kiss until now. What the hell was that anyway? She wasn’t attracted to girls, but she couldn’t deny her attraction to that kiss. Maybe it was just the liquor.
“Are you listening to me?” Avery asked.
Cadence looked at the stranger sitting on her couch.
“Yes. I’m listening.”
Avery sighed. “Whatever. I came over here to try to make things right. I came here to try and understand why you’ve been so mean to me.”
Cadence blinked.
“Seriously? That’s your response? A fucking blink?”
“I don’t know what you want me to say! I can’t be around you right now. I can’t deal with your happiness.”
Avery looked shocked. “Who the hell are you?”
“I don’t know. Just an angry individual, I guess,” Cadence replied.
Her heart ached instantly, and she wanted to tell Avery she was sorry, but she couldn’t. Or rather, she wouldn’t. Not when her heart conjured those feelings of abandonment during her last weeks of high school. Avery wasn’t there for her. Avery had disappeared. Avery ignored her and threw insults at her when she couldn’t ignore her.
But she apologized, her brain said.
So what? I can’t forget that! Why does she expect me to be nice to her when she’s basically throwing her happiness in my face? Cadence shot back.
Nobody’s throwing any happiness in your face. She’s trying to share her life with you. That’s what friends do.
Fuck that! She’s trying to have my life! Cadence thought. She looked at Avery who sat studying her face. She knew it was contorted with rage, and she thought the wisest thing Avery could do was leave before she said something unforgiveable.
“You should leave,” Cadence said quietly.
Avery stood and gathered her purse. She walked to the door and paused.
“I love you,” she said. Her voice quavered, and Cadence knew she was about to cry. “I wish you’d come back.”
Cadence listened as the door closed, leaving her isolated in the tiny living room—a space that held many wonderful memories that she couldn’t summon. Not one. They retreated when the knowledge set in of Mark’s past and her inconsequence. He could spend the rest of his life telling her he didn’t mean it, but she had already convinced herself of her unimportance. And suddenly she realized why she was sabotaging all of her relationships: She had tricked her brain into believing she brought nothing to them. That her life had no purpose. That she was meaningless. Just a silly girl to bend and break. She couldn’t see that it was no one but herself doing the breaking.
***
Cadence helped Fanny out of the car. She linked their arms and started down the park trail, taking in the view of an early spring. Buds dotted the dogwood trees, and verdant green colored the space on either side of them.
“You know, this is my favorite season,” Fanny said.
“Why’s that?”
“Because everything starts over. Rebirth. Renewal. New beginnings.”
Cadence nodded.
“It’s a chance to make things right,” she went on.
“I know what you’re getting at,” Cadence replied.
“I know you do.”
They strolled down the pathway, saying hello to other visitors as they passed.
“I’ve adopted you as my granddaughter,” Fanny said.
“You have?”
“Didn’t I tell you?” she replied. “I thought I told you that.”
Cadence shook her head.
“So because you’re my granddaughter, I can be blunt with you.”
“Uh oh.” Cadence braced herself.
“You’ve let anger and bitterness twist your heart, Cadence. It’s made you an ugly person. You’ve gone so far backwards that I fear I’ll have to teach you how to walk again.”
Cadence hung her head.
“I tell you this because I love you very much. I care for you. I don’t want to see you in pain. It hurts me to see you like that. It hurts me more to watch you try to cover it up with bad decisions.”
“How do you—”
“Doesn’t matter how I know. And no one is talking about you, so relax. I feel it in your bones.” Fanny stroked her arm. “Relax.”
Cadence took a deep breath.
“Mark was wrong to keep his past from you. He should have been honest from the beginning. He should have allowed you the chance to understand him. He was selfish to only give you one part. He knows that.”
Cadence said nothing.
“But you must let go of your feelings of betrayal. They’re like a cancer, spreading throughout your body, taking over all the goodness. If you don’t fight it, you’ll die in that darkness. You’ll destroy all the goodness in your life.”
“I can’t let it go,” Cadence whispered.
“Because you’re not asking for help,” Fanny replied.
“Whose help? I don’t want Mark’s help. Avery’s help. I love you, Fanny, but I don’t even want your help.”
Fanny chuckled. “Honey, none of us could help you if we tried.”
Cadence looked at her confused.
“What? Like a therapist? I should go to therapy?”
“I don’t think a therapist could help you either.”
Realization spread over Cadence’s face, lighting it up for a half-second before a scowl clouded the brightness.
“I don’t wanna talk to God,” she mumbled.
“Why’s that?”
“Because I think he’s indif
ferent.”
“Do you really think that? Because I suspect that when you lie in bed at night crying and feeling awful for the way you’re treating the people you love, that’s God speaking to you. That’s God being very involved in your life, your heart.”
Cadence shrugged.
“You have a hope that you refuse to cling to when it’s right there for you, waiting for you to reach out to it. Why are you refusing it?”
“Because I hurt.”
“Do you not think he knows that? Do you not think he feels what you feel?”
“I don’t know.” Cadence wanted to cry. She’d wanted to cry for weeks now, but the anger squelched her tears. She was a walking zombie, void of anything human.
“You won’t find a greater love to heal your pain, honey. You know that. I understand you’ve gotta go through this—feel what you’re feeling. But don’t let it destroy you. Search for the forgiveness because it’s still inside of you.”
“Avery said that I’m mostly upset about Mark having a wife, not that he kept it from me. She said it’s because I realize if she’d never died, I wouldn’t be with him.”
Fanny squeezed her arm. “Well, how do you feel about that?”
“I think she’s right, and I hate her for it,” Cadence said softly.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Cadence,” Fanny warned. “The ‘what if’ game. That’ll get you nowhere.”
“I know.”
“His circumstances were by design. So were yours. You were destined to be together. That’s what I believe. So there’s no room there for ‘what if’? Shouldn’t even be a fleeting thought.”
“He’s still in love with her!”
“In love? There’s a big difference between being in love with someone and loving her.”
“And what’s the difference?” Cadence asked. They found an empty park bench and took a seat.
“I think being in love takes two. You fall in love with another person because of the way he makes you feel or because of the little discoveries you make about each other. It’s a reciprocal thing. To be in love, you’ve gotta experience it back and forth. You following this?”
Cadence nodded.
“But loving someone doesn’t require the other person to do a damn thing. People love others who don’t even know they exist. It’s personal and private—to love someone. And it’s not selfish. You aren’t expecting something from that other person. You love him because that’s your gift.”
Cadence remembered something from her past. “Mark said a long time ago that his love for me wasn’t conditional—that he doesn’t love me because I love him.”
Fanny smiled. “Then what the hell are you doing, Cadence? People would give their right arms to have someone tell them those exact words. He loves you! Forgive him.”
Cadence rubbed her forehead.
Fanny took a breath. “So those are the differences between being in love and loving. Mark can’t possibly be in love with Andy because she’s no longer here to reciprocate. Be he’s sure as hell in love with you. AND he loves you. So if I were you, I’d pay attention to that.”
Cadence nodded.
“The problem is that you’re stubborn. Your pride has been hurt, and you can’t let go of it to forgive him. Sounds like someone else I know.”
Cadence snapped her head up. “Don’t you dare . . .”
“What? Compare you to your father?” Fanny asked.
Cadence stood up, and Fanny grabbed her arm.
“Honey, you’re my ride home,” she reminded her.
Cadence plopped back down on the bench. She was seething, and Fanny saw.
“Hear me out, you little steam engine,” Fanny said. She took Cadence’s hand. “Look at what your father’s pride has done to your relationship with him. Just think about it for a second. He did an awful thing to you, and his pride won’t allow him to ask for forgiveness.”
Cadence tried to pull her hand free, but Fanny clamped on to it like a lifeline. One way or the other, she was going to make Cadence understand.
“Pride breaks even the strongest people. It wrecks relationships, marriages, friendships. It’s ugly and can warp even the gentlest hearts. Cadence, look at me,” Fanny said.
Cadence looked up reluctantly.
“It’s happening to you. Your pride—if you cannot check it, if you cannot learn to break it, if you cannot learn to forgive Mark—your pride will be your undoing. It will destroy you and Mark.”
Cadence stared into the old woman’s eyes. She saw wisdom and love and a softness that comes from years of experience in learning how to be selfless—how to put another person first. She wondered if her eyes would reflect that when she was older. If she didn’t start learning now, they never would.
“Are you hearing me?” Fanny asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” Cadence replied.
“Are you thinking about it?”
Cadence nodded.
“Then I’ve done what I’ve come here to do,” Fanny said. She stood up slowly. “Come on. Let’s go home for tea.”
Cadence smiled. “I hate tea,” she mumbled.
“Well, I thought at some point it’d grow on you,” Fanny said.
“No, but I do what you tell me. I take it, and I drink it when it’s offered to me.”
“Well, Cadence, that right there shows me that you’re not a completely hopeless cause.”
Cadence burst out laughing. Fanny giggled too as they headed down the flower-lined path towards the car. She silently prayed for Cadence’s heart, and Cadence knew it.
***
Cadence searched the bottom cupboard for the rum, but all the liquor was gone. She swore there were several bottles just the other day. What? Did Mark drink all of it?
“Mark?!” she called.
He rounded the corner of the kitchen and stood over her.
“Where’s the rum?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I gave it away.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t think it needed to be in the house,” he replied.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why?”
“Because I don’t wanna encourage any more of—” He paused and waved his hand around. “—this.”
“What’s ‘this’?” she asked, mimicking his hand wave.
“You. Drinking.”
She stood up. “Excuse me?”
He scratched the back of his neck. “I think you’re drinking a little too much, Cadence.”
She laughed disdainfully. “Seriously? What? Are you my dad?”
“No. He’s an asshole. I’m not,” Mark replied.
“That’s debatable,” Cadence mumbled.
Mark drew in his breath. “I just thought that maybe you’d wanna ease up a little bit. Every time I see you, you’re throwing back.”
“Every time you see me?” she snapped. “That’s been, like, five times in the last two weeks! Suddenly I have a drinking problem?”
“Let’s talk about that for a minute,” Mark said. “Why have I only seen you five times in the last two weeks? We live together. Shouldn’t I see you more?”
“I’ve been busy with school,” Cadence lied.
“You’ve been busy getting wasted,” he countered.
“Fuck you!”
Mark rolled his eyes. “You’re mad at me. I get it. I get what this is all about. And I don’t know what more I can do, Cadence. I’ve apologized to you. I’m sorry. Genuinely sorry for lying to you. Why can’t you accept that?”
“Because it’s not enough!” she screamed. She pushed past him and grabbed her purse and book bag from the dining room table.
“Where are you going?” Mark asked.
“None of your business,” she barked.
His feet moved before his brain registered his intentions. He grabbed her book bag strap and forced her to a halt.
“Let go!” she screamed, twisting against his hand.
“I will,” he said softly. “Just tell me where you’re going.”
“No!”
“Tell me where you’re going, Cadence!”
“No!”
His brain cried “Stop!” but he ignored it. He pulled her to the floor and climbed on top of her, trapping her hands above her head. She screamed in his face, and he muffled her cry with his mouth.
He kissed her hard and didn’t wait for the inevitable bite on his lips. He sank his teeth into her lips first and listened as she yelped in pain. He thrust his tongue deep inside her mouth, and she pushed against it with her own, trying to purge it. She wrestled against him, grunting and straining and snapping her teeth. Her face reflected a violent anger that promised him further torture and heartache.
He trapped her face in his hands, forced her to stay still as the tears plopped one by one from his eyes onto her cheeks and forehead.
“Forgive me,” he cried.
She stared blankly at him.
“Forgive me!” he roared in her face.
He kissed her again—feverish and desperate. This time she didn’t fight. This time she responded. A little. She opened her mouth to him, let him kiss her deeply, giving him the illusion of forgiveness. He knew that’s exactly what it was, but he’d gone so long without tasting her mouth, that he didn’t care if it was fake. He didn’t care about her anger. He’d keep kissing her because he was desperate to be close to her, even if it didn’t really count.
He pulled back and studied her face. There was nothing. No light in her eyes. No flush to her cheeks. She had morphed into a living dead person. He couldn’t stand to look at her anymore and turned his face away. He climbed off of her and walked to the couch. She lay on the floor a minute longer, staring at the ceiling, deciding where to go. No place seemed particularly fun, but there was only one place where she could escape with liquor. And it wasn’t here. So she peeled herself off the floor, grabbed her purse, and headed out the door.
“Where have you been?!” Mark shouted as soon as Cadence walked through the door.
“What the hell?” she shot back.
“Your brother’s in the hospital! I’ve been trying to get in touch with you!” He grabbed her upper arm and hauled her back out the door. He escorted her to his car and all but threw her in the seat.
