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 an
d 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?"
There is no way I can speak right now, so I simply nod my head.
She pushes herself off the desk and sits down next to me in the matching leather chair. Shifting her body to face me, she continues, "Dancers like you don't often walk through these doors. When I first saw you three years ago, I knew I was seeing something special. You are destined to have a successful career, and I've never had to worry about you. You breathe this." Hearing her words, I lose my composure and let the tears escape. "But it's almost November, and your time here is limited. Whatever this is...we need to fix it. I see perfection, but I no longer feel the passion in you. I feel emptiness."
Agreeing with her last statement, I nod my head and say, "I'm sorry. I don't...I don't know what to do to fix this."
She reaches over and covers my hand with hers. "Whatever is making you shut down, allow it to come to life inside of you."
Her words are my greatest fear. Would she be telling me this if she knew? I know I have to find another way—I have to.
"I believe in you, Candace. I wouldn't have called you in today if I didn't."
I am taken back by her candidness, and I know she isn't saying this for my sake. She means it. Wiping my tearstained cheeks, I say, "Thank you."
She stands up, and I lean down to grab my purse before doing the same. As she walks back behind her desk, I make my way to the door. Holding the door handle in my hand, I turn over my shoulder and assure her, "I'll fix this."
"I know you will," she replies as she sits down.
Wrapping my plush black scarf around my neck, I head out the front door into the brisk and rainy October evening. It's Halloween, and everyone at work wanted the night off to go to various parties, so I volunteered to work. Roxy will be there for a little bit, but I will be working most of the night and closing by myself. It should be pretty slow with it being a Wednesday and also a party night. Most people will be opting to drink liquor rather than coffee.
When I arrive, Roxy and her boyfriend, Jared, are the only ones in the shop. Sporting her new flame-red hair, she looks up and says, "Hey, Candace! How was your day?"
Shaking off my wet jacket, I say, "Busy. I've been trying to choreograph that solo I told you about." I shrug off my coat and scarf and hang them on the coat rack by the front doors.
"Hey, Jared," I say as I approach the counter.
"Haven't seen you in a while, girl," he says.
"Yeah, I've been keeping busy with school."
Eying my backpack, he says, "I see."
I sling my backpack off my shoulder and drop it on the floor behind the counter. "I figured it'd be dead tonight, so I thought I could get some reading done for my classes."
Roxy walks up to me, leaning against the counter, and asks softly, "You sure you're gonna be okay here by yourself?"
"Roxy, I've worked alone before. No biggie."
"Yeah, but—"
Interrupting her, I repeat, "No biggie, Rox," giving a slight nod and looking her in the eyes. I know exactly what she's thinking, but I just want her to drop it. We both realize I haven't worked alone since she's been noticing my strange behavior these past couple months. She knows something is up, but I tend to cut her off every time she starts to insinuate concern.
I walk over to the espresso machine and begin making myself a double shot latte.
"It was nice seeing you, Candace," Jared shouts over to me while I'm grinding the coffee beans.
"You heading out already?" I ask.
"Yeah, I gotta run." He turns to Roxy and asks, "I'll see you in an hour?"
"Yep, meet you at your place," she replies before kissing him.
I turn around, not wanting to look at how happy they are and focus on steaming the milk. I add a pump of vanilla flavoring and quickly wipe down the counter before turning back around. When I do, Jared is walking out. Leaning against the counter, I blow on my hot drink before taking a slow sip. Roxy is staring at me, and I can read her thoughts clearly. I know she doesn't want me here alone, and she is worried. Before she can say a word, I try to place the focus on her, not me.
"So, what are the two of you doing tonight?" I ask.
"A friend of ours is in a band, and they are playing a show at The Crocodile."
"That's a huge gig," I say excitedly.
Roxy and I start talking about her friend's band, and before I know it, she's grabbing her things and getting ready to leave. A part of me is starting to feel jittery, and it isn't the caffeine. The thought creeps into my mind: What if he comes in tonight? I have never seen him here in the past, and to my knowledge, he has never been here, but it still makes me nervous.
"You okay, hun?" Roxy asks as she stares at my hands that are tightly clenched together.
Immediately, I loosen my grip as I feign a smile and say, "Yeah, fine. Must be the two shots of espresso, that's all." Truth is, I'm not okay, but I need to be. I need to function and be able to go about my daily routines without freaking out. The only way I know to get to that point is to keep forcing myself.
"Okay," she responds in a weary tone. I assure her I'm fine and tell her to not worry about me and have fun. Before walking out the door, she turns around and says, "Call me if you need anything, or...just call me, okay?"
Waving at her in mock exasperation, I say, "Just go."
It's a little after ten o'clock and the rain is now pouring down outside. The evening has been pretty slow as predicted. Only a handful of people are sitting around drink
ing coffee, visiting with friends, or studying. I have been able to get a decent amount of reading done and am now finishing up some research for a paper I need to write by next week.
My heart skips a beat, as it does every time the bell above the door rings. I look up to see a guy with dark, wet hair walking in. I hop off my stool and walk over to the register to meet him.
"Hey, what can I get for you?" I ask.
Looking at the drink list on the wall behind me, he says, "Uh, just a twenty coffee. Black."
Roxy didn't feel like she needed to give her drink sizes any special names like other coffee establishments, so it's simply a twelve, sixteen, or twenty.
"Easy enough," I say, and before he can look up at me, I am over pouring him his cup of coffee. When I return, he is typing something into his phone. "That's one ninety-three," I say as I slide the drink towards him.
Looking up at me, he hands me a five, and I open the register to get him his change. I feel him staring at me, and when I shift my eyes up, sure enough, he's staring at me with a confused look on his face.
"Everything okay?" I ask as I hand him his change. He doesn't take his eyes off of me, and I'm starting to freak out inside. I can feel the rate of my heart as it increases, and I nervously ask, "Anything else?"
He finally blinks and shakes his head as he says, "Um, no. No, that's all," never taking his eyes off of me.
Who the hell is this guy? I take a few steps back and accidentally kick the barstool I was sitting on, and it makes a loud scratching noise against the floor. He turns around and starts walking out but looks back over his shoulder at me a couple times before finally leaving.
Panic shoots through me, and my breathing becomes erratic. Does that guy know me? Does he know Jack? My paranoid thoughts start to overtake me, and I quickly announce to the few people who are still here that we are closing immediately. My voice is trembling, and it doesn't take long for the place to empty out. As soon as the last person leaves, I lock the doors and turn off the outside lights. I walk back behind the counter, scared, not able to slow down my pounding heart. Sitting down and pulling my knees to my chest, I once again feel defeated and hopeless as the tears start to fall.