Fading (14 page)

"Yeah, Jase. I can't stay with you forever, and you and Mark don't need me around all of the time." I start piling my dirty clothes in the hamper and get a load of clothes separated to wash. In all honesty, I don't want to be here. But I feel like a burden to Jase. He keeps assuring me I'm not, but I know he and Mark really want some privacy. I don't blame them. Plus, I haven't heard from Kimber since Sunday night when she showed up at Jase's, so my being back here at the house is unsettling.

Tossing my empty bags in the closet, Jase asks, "What time do you get off work tonight? Do you want me to meet you afterward?" I know he's worried about me since my new feelings of paranoia have surfaced. He met me yesterday after I got off work to simply walk me to my car and follow me home. But I really don't need him to keep doing that since I always walk out with Roxy or another employee.

"I close tonight, so I'll leave around eleven, but you don't have to meet me there. I'm working with Roxy, so I won't be alone," I say as I grab the basket full of clothes and walk out of the bedroom. I dump the basket off in the laundry room before heading to the living room. Jase takes his bag, and I walk him to the door. "Thank you."

Looking at me, he asks, "For what?"

"Everything." I barely get the words out when I feel the tightening in my throat. I'm not really good at expressing how I feel, but I wish I could because everything Jase has done for me this past week and a half has been beyond anything anyone has ever done for me. The compassion and love he gives me every day means the world to me.

"Sweetie, I feel like I haven't done nearly enough," he says. But he has. He couldn't have done anything more.

I shake my head and start to cry. He knows me well enough that no words are even needed. He pulls me in, and we hold each other tightly. I press my head into his chest, and the tears keep coming. Jase combs his hand through my hair while I cling to him.

"You keep the key to my place, okay. Come over anytime you need, even if it's the middle of the night."

Nodding my head, I pull back and look into his eyes. I lift up on my toes and give him a quick kiss. "I love you."

"I love you, too," he responds as he opens the door. "Text me tonight when you get home."

"Okay." Shutting the door behind him, I walk back to get my laundry started and to start reading for one of my classes.

As soon as I get into my car, I pull out my phone and text Jase to let him know that work was fine, and I am heading home. Kimber had classes all afternoon, so I didn't see her before I left for work, but I know she will be there when I get home.

Roxy is starting to get a little concerned about me. She keeps asking me questions and wanting to make sure everything is all right. I try assuring her that everything's fine, but I know she doesn't believe me. I can't blame her really. Just like at school, I keep fearing that Jack is going to walk through the doors at work. Every time the little bell over the door rings, the anxiety builds in my stomach, and I know Roxy notices.

Pulling up to the house, I see Kimber's car out front. I didn't tell her I was coming home today. Walking inside, I make my way to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water before I go to my room. I see Kimber sitting at the bar when I enter.

Looking up at me, she says, "Hey, I didn't know you were coming back today."

"Yeah," is all I manage to say as I open the fridge and grab a water. The silence is very awkward, and I just want to go to my room and not deal with this tension between us. "Well, I'm really tired, so I'm going to head to bed."

"Yeah, okay," she says quietly.

I really hate that things feel so strained between us, but I am not sure what to say to her. She knows I'm lying to her, and I feel bad for that but not bad enough to tell her the truth.

I brush my teeth and slip on some sleep shorts and a tank top before taking my sleeping pill that the doctor prescribed to me. Since I started taking them, I haven't had any more extreme nightmares. I lie down in bed and grab my phone off the nightstand to text Jase one more time. I've gotten used to sleeping with him in the same bed, so lying here alone feels strange, almost scary. I've been clinging to Jase as my life support lately, and not having him here with me makes me wish I was back in his bed, in his arms—not alone.

Goodnight. I miss U.

Miss U too. Did U see Kimber?

Yeah. Didn't really say much. It's awkward.

I'm sorry, sweetie. Hopefully it will get better and things will get less weird for you guys.

Maybe. Is Mark with you?

Yeah.

Tell him I said HI. Love you guys.

We love you too.

2 weeks later

Things are still tense with Kimber. We hardly even talk anymore aside from the civil greetings when passing by. I keep apologizing, but she is still mad at me. I wish we could move past this and go back to the way it used to be. But I'm beginning to think that the way it was is the way it will never be. Things are starting to get a little more comfortable at work. Roxy has never mentioned Jack again since that first night back. I've been having issues with being alone at night, so I have been spending a few nights a week with Jase. Either he comes over or I go to his apartment. Once I'm asleep, it's pretty restless. Lying in the dark, waiting for sleep to come, is the hardest part. Every time I close my eyes I am back in the alley, on the ground, with
him
.

Ms. Emerson, my dance instructor, has been making my life hell lately. I never miss a class; in fact, I have been clocking in a lot of after hours studio time. My moves are flawless, but she is on me about feeling the dance. She keeps telling me that she's watching a perfect dancer, but I'm dead. There is nothing behind my movements. The problem is, I don't know how to fix that because frankly, I feel like I am wasting away. But when I dance, it's the only time my mind feels free of the pain that is constantly consuming it.

4 weeks later

Kimber found my sleeping pills. She needed to borrow my hair dryer when hers bit the dust. While she was in my bathroom, she saw the bottle that I had accidentally left out. When she kept questioning me, I told her I was taking them because the stress of school was keeping me up at night. I don't know whether she believed me or not, but it really doesn't matter since our relationship seems to be drifting further apart.

I fought with my mother this morning when she called to bitch at me for not being a better daughter and returning her phone calls. I hadn't spoken with her or my father since the blowout about me not attending the banquet that honored my mother. Every time either one of them calls, I just let it go to voicemail, but this time I answered. My lack of conversation ticked my mother off, and she went on another one of her tangents about how childish and disrespectful I am. I didn't argue back. I didn't have the energy, so I just sat there and let her say everything she needed to say. If it wasn't for her pushy attitude, I would have never agreed to go on a date with Jack, and none of this would be happening. I know what he did isn't her fault, but I hate her for it anyway. So when she finished lecturing me on her expectations, I simply disconnected the call without saying anything.

6 weeks later

Yesterday was a horrible day. My mind has been consumed with flashbacks, and the stress finally caught up to me. After dance class, I came home. Kimber was still on campus, so I thought I would take a quick nap before having to go into work. I woke up screaming, and I couldn't calm myself down. My heart was racing, and I must have been hallucinating because even though my eyes were open, Jack was right there with me, muffling my mouth with his hand and ripping my clothes off. No matter how much I fought, he wouldn't stop. I huddled down in my closet and tried shielding my eyes from the images of him, but he was there too. With me in the dark. I felt like I was going to die. The pounding of my heart made my chest hurt, and I could barely breathe.

I managed to call Jase when I started to calm down. He came over right away and sat with me in my closet while I sobbed uncontrollably. It seems that no matter how hard I try to let go of it all, Jack finds a way to creep into my head and remind me of everything I want to forget.

I decided to go ahead and go into work, even though Jase wanted me to call in sick. But I really needed the distraction. It was a busy night, so I didn't have much time to think about anything other than making lattes. In fact, I barely even noticed the taunting bell above the door, which usually has me in a constant state of paranoia. The busier I keep myself, the less time my mind has to wander. So when I am not at Common Grounds, I'm buried in schoolwork: dancing and studying.

8 weeks later

Jase has been trying to convince me to see a therapist. He believes my erratic behavior is post-traumatic stress disorder. The last thing I want to do is talk, so I brush him off and pretend like it's no big deal whenever he brings it up, which is often. All I need is a little more time to pass, and things will get easier. I keep telling myself this every day, but so far, nothing has changed. I can do nothing but hope that one day I will wake up and things will be different.

Ms. Emerson told me to report to her office this afternoon at three o'clock. I have never been to her office before; I hadn't even been singled out in class like I have been lately. She's constantly barking at me in class, telling me to
feel
more. I can only imagine that this meeting will be more of the same.

When I pull up to the studio, I take a deep calming breath before getting out of the car. Feeling nervous as I walk into the building, I head down the hallway to all the instructors' offices. When I reach her closed door, I take a few moments before lightly knocking on the door.

"Come in," she says loudly, and I slowly open the door and peek my head in. "Ms. Parker, please, have a seat," she says as she motions to the large leather chair with weathered nailheads.

Sliding my purse off my shoulder, I plop it on the floor next to the chair before sitting down. I look at Ms. Emerson as she folds her hands together on top of her desk and clears her throat.

"Ms. Parker...Candace?"

"Please, call me Candace," I answer as I fidget with my watch.

"I can't help but notice a decline in your performance lately, and it's beginning to concern me."

"Oh..."

" I've never had to worry about you in the past, and frankly, I never thought I would be needing to have this conversation with you, but..." She backs her chair away from her desk, stands up, and walks around, leaning against the desk as she now stands directly in front of me. "Is there something going on? Something that has caused this sudden shift with your dancing?" Her voice softens when she questions me. I'm surprised by her tone of empathy.

Shaking my head, I say, "No. I'm not sure what's causing this struggle." Only I do. And the knowing causes me to swallow back hard and fight to keep the tears from pooling in my eyes.

When I look at Ms. Emerson, I see the concern. An emotion I thought she couldn't possibly possess. My body betrays my act of strength when I feel my chin start to tremble as the emotions build inside my tightening chest.

Slightly tilting her head to the side, she pushes, "You sure?"