Текст книги "Fading"

Автор книги: E. K. Blair

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Текущая страница: 23 (всего у книги 25 страниц)

These past two weeks have been such a daze. I'm miserable. I can't sleep. I can't eat. I try to keep myself consumed with school, but I can't even focus. Ryan calls me every day, and each time he does, it's just a reminder of how alone I am. I can't even read his texts. I delete them as soon as they come through. When Jase went over there to get my belongings last week, he came back and suggested that I talk to Ryan. But I know there is nothing he could possibly say to lessen this pain. I gave him everything I had to give. I bared it all to him, and the whole time he was lying to me. I feel so betrayed and so used. And the most sickening part of it all is that I still love him. I hate myself for that. I don't know what's wrong with me; I don't understand how I can still feel this way about him after everything.

Mark and Jase still talk to him and see him. I told them that I understand. After all, Mark's band plays at his bar. I can't expect them to not be his friend. But I've been keeping my distance from them because I can't help but feel hurt at the same time.

When Roxy kept asking about Ryan and why she hadn't seen him around, I just didn't have the energy to deal with it, so I quit. I know it was a total overreaction, but all I really want to do is escape from everything. I'm trying hard to be strong and put the pieces back together, but Ryan didn't leave me with pieces—he left me with ashes.

Since I no longer have anything aside from dance to distract me on the weekends, I'm home alone most of the time. Kimber is at her parents' this weekend. She wanted me to come with her, but just the thought of pretending to be happy around her family was enough to exhaust me. Jase called earlier to try and get me out of the house, but I told him I wasn't feeling well. I know he didn't believe me, but I don't care.

He's worried that I'm not taking care of myself, and I guess he should be. I know I look awful. It's only been two weeks and my clothes are all loose on me, but I can't rid my stomach of the knots that consume it. Ms. Emerson has been riding my ass again, and I know I need to pull it together and quick because our production is a mere two weeks away.

When the doorbell rings, I drag myself to the door. I look out the living room window, and I can't swallow against the lump in my throat when I see Ryan's black Rubicon. Leaning my head against the door, I say, "Go away."

"You won't return any of my calls, babe. Please, let me talk to you."

I turn away and start walking back to my room when I hear a key slide into the lock and then the door opening.

Snapping back to face the door, I yell, "What are you doing?!"

"Jase gave me a key."

"Ass," I mumble under my breath. "Ryan, please go. I don't want to talk."

"I can't not talk to you. It's killing me."

"It's killing you? What about me?" I can barely get the words out over the sob that starts to threaten. "Ryan, I can't do this. I can't even look at you. Please, just go."

"I can't stand to see you like this."

"Then go! I will do almost anything to make you leave."

"Just let me talk to you. Please, babe, just let me talk."

"Fine, say whatever you need to say, then leave me alone."

He motions for me to sit on the couch and when I do, he sits next to me. I can't control the tears that free fall down my cheeks. Seeing his face and being next to him is too much for me. If I had never loved him so much, then he never would have had the power to destroy me like he did. More than anything, I want to cling to him, but I don't. I know I can't ever allow anyone to get that close to me again. I can't give another person the power to hurt me like he did.

"I'm worried about you," he says as he looks me in the eyes.

I turn my head so I don't have to look at him. "Don't."

"When was the last time you've eaten?"

"Ryan, don't. Just say what you need to say."

He reaches for my hand, but I pull it away as he says, "I love you. I know you don't believe me, but I do. No one has ever affected me the way you do, babe. I swear to you...I swear I didn't know. I didn't, Candace. Not at first." When I hear his voice crack, I look up at him and see the tears that fill his eyes, and I have to look back down.

"When I saw you at the coffee shop I thought it was you. I thought you were that girl. But then I kept thinking, 'What are the chances?' I didn't know because you looked so different than from that night. And then I found out that you were friends with Mark. Every time I saw you, I felt myself being drawn to you in a way I've never felt before. I had myself convinced that my head was playing games with me, and I honestly did not think you were that girl. It wasn't until I saw your tattoo when we were in bed. That's when I knew. When I found that girl, I saw her tattoo—your tattoo."

"Ryan, please," I whimper, but he doesn't stop.

"When I saw it, I broke. I didn't want you to be her. I had already fallen so hard in love with you and realizing that it was you fuckin' killed me. Everything started making sense to me. How scared you always were with me when we first met, how afraid you were when I tried to touch you. Everything made sense. But, I didn't know how to tell you. And then you told me you loved me, and I know how hard that was for you. I just couldn't hurt you," he says, now crying.

"But you did. You lied to me. I let you see all the parts of me that weren't pretty, but you knew all along. And when I finally opened up to you, you already knew." Lowering my head into my hands, I cry. I cry hard. "You let me give everything to you. You had to have known that you couldn't hold on to that secret forever. I would've eventually found out, and you still let me fall for you like I did. I feel so stupid and used, like you just felt sorry for me or pitied me."

"I never pitied you, babe. I have only ever loved you. I just didn't want to hurt you."

He reaches out to hold me, but I push him back and stand up from the couch.

"I can't do this. You can't say those things to me."

Standing up and taking a step toward me, he says, "I know I fucked up. I fucked everything up so bad. I know all you wanted was someone you could trust. I wanted to be that for you, and I fucked it all up. But, I didn't know what to say; I was scared. You'll never know how fucking sorry I am."

"I knew better. I knew I shouldn't have let you in like I did. But, I can't see you anymore. You have to stop calling and texting. I need you to just not exist for me because I can't do this. It hurts more than I thought anything possibly could."

"Candace, please."

"Just go."

He doesn't move. He just stands there. A part of me never wants him to move, but I know he needs to. I can hardly bear to see the pain in his eyes and the tears running down his cheeks.

"Please, you have to go. I can't do this," I plead with him.

Looking at me through his tears, he chokes out, "You have to know how much I love you."

"Please, Ryan," I say with closed eyes. I just need him to go because I can't take the excruciating pain any more. My eyes stay closed until I hear the click of the door as it closes behind him. I know I shouldn't, but I can't stop myself from watching him get into his jeep. I feel like I need to scream for him to come back, but I don't. I just let him drive away.

My heart hurts so bad, I swear it feels like I'm dying. I can't take this anymore. I know I can't live like this. I can't do this on my own. I've tried so hard. But I just can't do it anymore.

It's been just over a week since Ryan walked out of my house, and I finally hit my bottom. I finally had to surrender, and I knew I had to stop clinging onto people. I had to stop running to Jase. He would never be able to save me. And I no longer had Ryan to cling to. But even if I did, he wouldn't be able to save me either. I knew it was up to me to pull myself together and get help because all I wanted to do was fade away.

The first time I went to see Dr. Christman was the day after I saw Ryan. We decided that I would see her twice a week. During our first session, I basically told her everything that had happened since August: Jack, Kimber, my parents, Ryan. I told her about how I grew up and why I didn't seek therapy earlier this year when everything was falling apart. I really like Dr. Christman. She's helping me to see that what Jack did wasn't my fault. I still harbor guilt about it, but not as much as I used to. She's helping me learn how to tolerate my emotions and not avoid everything that I consider my triggers, like my fear of crowds or my thoughts of Jack.

Today is our fourth session. When I walk into her office and sit in my usual seat on the couch. "Hello, Candace. How are you feeling since we met earlier this week?"

"Okay, I guess."

"And what does that mean? What's 'okay'?"

"I've been trying to eat better, which I think is good. But, I haven't been sleeping well, so I've been really tired."

"What do you think is keeping you up?"

"It used to be Jack, but lately it's been Ryan. He keeps flashing through my head, and when that happens, I get really upset. I know I need to move on, but it's really hard."

"It's only natural that this will take time. You loved him, and that doesn't go away just because he hurt you. But it sounds like he also helped you. Would you agree with that?"

Shifting on the couch, I say, "I suppose. But, it really just seems like a façade. Like everything I thought he was helping me through wasn't real because the whole thing was a lie."

She flips a page over on her tablet and begins taking notes before asking, "But was it a lie? We know he held onto the secret of who he was to you, but were the feelings a lie?"

"I don't know. I mean...they felt real."

"If Ryan would have told you from the beginning who he was, if he was honest about that, do you think you would have let yourself feel what you felt for him?"

Taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly, I say, "Yes."

"So, was it all a lie then?"

I shake my head and say, "I get what you're saying, but I can't go back."

"I'm not saying go back. There was a betrayal, and you have every right to guard yourself against that, but don't dismiss your feelings as a lie. He was able to show you that you are capable of loving, and trusting, and having faith."

"I just don't know how to move past him."

She sets her pen and tablet down and leans back in her chair. "Well, that takes time, just like any loss we suffer. What is one thing you think you can do to help that process?"

"I don't know. I guess...I guess I need to stop spending so much time thinking about why I can't go back to him and just focus on the fact that I was already with him and it just didn't work. When I think about why I can't go back, it's like I'm trying to convince myself that I shouldn't, when I really need to focus on the fact that it just isn't an option. He's my past, and I need to start focusing on what I'm going to do about my future."

"And what about your future can you focus on?"

"My dancing. I have my performance this weekend, so hopefully offers will start coming in this next week. I need to focus on making New York happen. It's always been my dream."

She picks up her notepad and begins to write as she says, "I think you have a good plan."

We continue on to discuss issues about Jack and some of the paranoia I still feel about him for the rest of the session. After making my follow-up appointment, I stop by the house and grab my dance bag to spend the rest of the day rehearsing and focusing more on the thing I do have control over, which is my career, not Ryan.

When I get home, I decide to start taking more control, like Dr. Christman suggested. I can't keep avoiding situations that make me nervous and uncomfortable. I know I can't keep hiding from my emotions because I'm too scared to deal with them.

I take out my phone, scroll down to Roxy's name, and tap her number. After several rings, she answers.

"Candace, hey."

"Hey Rox, do you have a minute to talk?"

"Hun, I always have time for you. How are you?"

"I'm doing better, actually. I wanted to call and apologize for my behavior and walking out on you. I've been going through some stuff, and I was out of line."

"I've been worried about you. We used to always talk, but I feel like you've somehow gotten lost this year, and I wish I knew how to be a friend to you."

"You are a friend. And I love you. It's been a rough year, but I think I'm getting on the right track. It feels that way, at least."

"That's good to hear."

"But, I was calling because I wanted to know if you've filled my position yet."

"Your position will never be filled."

"So, I can come back?"

"Always, hun."

"Thanks, Rox. Can you get me on the schedule for next week?"

"Of course. Stop by in a couple days, and I'll have the schedule out."

"Great."

"And Candace..."

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you called me. You know you can always call, anytime."

"I do know. Thanks again. I'll stop by later this week."

"Sounds good."

"Okay, bye."

"So, tell me how things have been going?" Dr. Christman asks as she pulls out her notepad.

"I called my boss and got my job back. She put me on the schedule for next week."

"What made you decide to do that?"

"You suggested that I stop avoiding situations that spike my emotions. Work has always been that place for me. It's always been a place I feared Jack walking into."

"What do you normally do when your anxiety peaks at work?"

"I go to the back room and restock."

"And what are you going to do now when you start to feel that way?"

"I know I need to stay out in the shop."

"Just remember that a spike in emotions is okay. They will spike, but they will come down again and you will be okay."

"When I get anxious, I feel that there will be no coming back down. I feel like everything is about to spiral out of control."

"That's very common after the kind of trauma you've been through. It's normal to be afraid of feeling, but whatever you're feeling, you need to understand that those feelings will not be permanent. Instead of running from your feelings, I really would like for you to stay in them. Try not to shut down. Think about your anxiety level, and when it gets high, I want you to see that you're still okay."

I nod my head and say, "I think that doing something like that at work is a good place to start. I'm not alone, and sitting here with you thinking about it, I can rationally say that nothing would happen. That I would be okay."

"Good. And how has your sleep been lately?"

"Restless."

"Are you still on your sleeping pill?" she asks.

"Yes. Honestly, I'm too scared to wean off of them."

"That's okay. You're making progress in other areas, and so we will keep focusing on that before approaching your nightmares."

After the session is over, I head over to Common Grounds to pick up my schedule for next week. When I walk in, I see Roxy behind the counter. She walks around it and comes to give me a hug.

"I'm so glad you decided to come back. I've missed you. I've been stuck working with Sarah, and all she talks about is her stupid dog."

I laugh at her and say, "Thanks. I'm so sorry for—"

Cutting me off she tells me, "Forget it. I'm just glad you're here, hun."

I walk to the back room with her, and she gives me the schedule for next week. It feels good to be back here. Even though Dr. Christman helped me to see that this place is a trigger for my irrational feelings, I feel like this will be a good starting point for me to try to overcome them.

"So how are you and Kimber doing?" Jase asks me as we stand in the long line to buy our caps and gowns for graduation.

"Really good. We've both been busy getting everything wrapped up for graduation. But we spend several evenings a week hanging out."

"So are you excited about tomorrow night?"

"You have no idea. Excited and super nervous," I say as the line slowly moves forward. Tomorrow night is our final production, and I have been living and breathing dance for the past few weeks.

"Well, Mark has been dying to see you dance."

"I wasn't sure if he was going to be able to make it."

"Yeah, Ryan has a new band that alternates Saturday nights."

Looking down to the ground, I am a little caught off guard by the mention of Ryan's name. I know Jase is still friends with him, but he makes a point to not mention him around me.

"Sorry," he says.

I look back up at him and tell him, "It's fine, Jase. I know you're friends."

"So, can I go there?"

Letting out a sigh, I nod my head and he says, "He misses you. He hasn't been the same since."

"Neither have I. But, it's done. It's been almost two months."

"So, that's it?"

"In case you haven't noticed, I've been pretty busy trying to sort my own issues out," I tell him.

"I know you have. And I'm proud of you."

We take a few steps as the line continues to creep forward. "I just need to be alone right now. I realize how much I was clinging to people. I did it with you, and I did it with him. In a way, I guess I'm glad this all happened. It forced to me to finally find the will to try to pull myself out this hell. But, I had to do it alone."

"I understand. I really do. So, how is everything going with all of that?"

"We've been talking a lot about the attack. Dr. Christman really wants me to stay in the moment, feeling the power of those emotions without shutting down. The more we do those exercises the less scary it is talking about it."

"That's really good. I'm really glad that you're doing this. I always felt so helpless. I never knew what to tell you."

Grabbing his hand, I tell him, "You always said the right things to me. You always made me feel safe."

He kisses my forehead and asks, "How are your night terrors?"

"I'm still taking my pills. She told me that the more I can cope with my anxiety and triggers during the day and realize I'm okay, then the night stuff should work itself out naturally. But for now, I still take them."

He slings his arm around my shoulder and kisses my head. "You're pretty amazing, you know that?"

"Stop embarrassing me. So, tell me about you. Any job offers yet?"

"I have an interview at Dean Allen on Monday."

"That's great! So, you're definitely staying in Seattle?"

"Yeah. It's home for me. I love the city, and Mark is staying, so it only makes sense. What about you? I know you were thinking about the Pacific Northwest Ballet."

"That's when I thought I could never leave. But, I'm really hoping for New York. I think I can go now and be okay. I'll miss you like crazy, but if I got the opportunity, I'd have to at least give it a shot, you know?"

When we finally make it to the front of the line, we get fitted for our purple caps and gowns. I hand over my paperwork to order my honor cords and stole. Jase laughs at me and all the bells and whistles I have to wear. I just shake my head at him. I was still able to maintain my perfect four point this year, which makes a solid four years.

"Want to grab a coffee before we go?"

"Yeah, that sounds good."

While standing in line for our drinks, I spot Kimber from across the room. I shoot her a quick text letting her know we are here, and I see her start heading our way.

"God, this place is packed with every douchebag around!" she snaps as she joins us.

I laugh at her as we walk over to take a seat at an empty table. "Did you order your cap and gown?"

"No, did you see that line?"

"Kimber, you have to get it ordered today. It's the last day."

"Come with me," she begs in a whiney voice.

Taking a sip of my drink I say, "Too late, I just did it."

"Jase?" she says in a singsong voice, but her face drops when he tells her, "Sorry, I went with Candace."

"You guys are hookers! Why didn't you call me?"

"Because you were in class," Jase tells her while I laugh. She's going to be one pissed off chick when she has to stand in that line alone.

"Well, stand with me anyway."

"I can't. I have rehearsals in an hour. I have to run home 'cause I forgot my dance bag."

"You guys are really sucky friends, you know?"

"What are you doing tonight?" Jase asks Kimber.

"Aside from standing in that long ass line, nothing. Why?"

"Come out with Mark and I."

"Drinking?"

"When do they ever not drink?" I butt in.

"Then I'm in! I'll call you when I can find my way out of this fuckin' crazy ass vortex," she complains as she stands up.

"Where are you going?" I ask.

"To go get my cap and gown. Alone."

Jase and I laugh at her when she walks off.

"Well, I better run too. I gotta get to the studio."

"Okay, well I know tomorrow will be busy for you, but if we don't talk before then, I want to wish you luck now, sweetie. I am so proud of you, and we will be there to watch you."

"Thanks, Jase. Love you."

"You too."

"How have you been dealing with the blame?" Dr. Christman asks after I sit down on the couch.

"I don't know. I guess I still feel responsible in a way. I can't get past how my actions led to his actions. I know his actions were wrong, but I still feel responsible for leading him there."

"You can't hold your past responsible for your future."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"You can't hold the past Candace responsible for the future Candace. You're holding your future self responsible for something your past self didn't know anything about. You can't judge your past behavior because of the way things turned out. You had no way of knowing what would happen next. It's only because you do know that you judge your past self."

"I struggle with that. I get what you're saying, but I can't seem to see past all the poor choices I made."

"Well, we will continue to work on that. For now, let's transition and talk a little about tonight. How are you feeling?"

"I feel good. I feel like everything you and I have done has really helped me finally connect to this piece the way I always should have. I used to use Ryan's pain to draw on, but I feel strong enough now to pull from my own."

"That's wonderful."

"I just have to remind myself that it's all right to feel it. It's just a feeling and it will go away, and I will still be okay."

"And the more you can deal with these emotions in a rational manner, the more your sleeping should start to improve. The goal is still to wean you off of the pills." She flips the page of her notepad and continues taking notes.

"I know. I'm just scared."

"But you just said that your emotions will come back down and you will be okay."

"The day stuff seems so much easier than the nightmares. They are so real to me." I don't have the vivid nightmares when I take my pills, but even on the pills my sleep is still restless and filled with night terrors. I'm terrified that if I stop taking them, the bad dreams will start up again.

Crossing her legs, she asks, "So, tell me, what do you think is causing your restless sleep?"

"At this point, it's a lot of things. I still feel like I'm mourning the loss of Ryan. I miss him. A lot. I miss what we had. I wonder what he's doing now. If he's seeing anyone. If he ever thinks about me. I know I shouldn't, but I do."

She leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "There is no right or wrong way. These thoughts are completely normal. Do you feel like you need more closure?"

"I don't know." I feel a lump form in my throat, and my eyes prick and sting with tears. "It's weird because he lives a few minutes down the street from me, but it feels like he's a world away."

"I want you to think about what you might need to bring you more peace over this situation."

"Okay."

I look at myself in the mirror. I have finished dancing my ensembles and am applying the last of my makeup before I take the stage for my solo. Adding a few extra bobby pins to my bun, I stand up and make my way backstage. I focus on keeping my muscles warm as I wait for my call.

I feel nervous, as I always do, but I know the nerves will fade as soon as I hit the stage. When the curtain drops, the dancers clear the stage, and I walk to center stage and place myself in fifth position. My heart is pounding, and I'm anxious for the curtain to rise. I know I've worked my ass off for this moment, now I just need to nail it.

The heavy velvet curtain begins to rise as I hear my music start. The heat of the lights sinks into my skin, as I feel the weight of everything I have been working so hard for in the tension of my muscles. Sliding into my chainès across the stage, the music is loud and it fills the auditorium. When I feel the vibrations of the low cello in my chest, I let myself fall into the tortured piece. The music pulses throughout my body while I take myself to my dark places as I begin my footwork across the stage. I know every seat is filled, but right now, it's just me in this room as I glide effortlessly, always leading with my heel to show off my perfect turnout.

Everything about this year floods through me. I no longer need to take from anyone else; I only take my pain, my brokenness, my suffering. It pours out of me. Everything Jack did to me, and all the torment of losing Ryan. I let my heart bleed as I move through my piece. I throw it all out there and finally allow myself to truly experience this piece—I finally feel it.

When the staccato violins enter the piece, I hit my fouettès one by one with a double pirouette on every second and sixth count. The applause rises as I finish and slide out. The spots are sharp on my piquès and I know I've nailed the routine when the music hits its second high then drifts away.

The crowd is almost as deafening as the music was. I stand and pas marchè to center stage. With a strong port a bras, I take the final curtsey of my college career. Ms. Emerson catches my eye as she walks onto the stage, looking as stoic as ever, and hands me a bouquet of long-stemmed pink roses. I thank her, and I can barely hear her over the applause when she says, "I knew you could do it," and then steps aside, giving me a reverence, and I curtsey one last time before the curtain drops.

I stand there for a moment while dancers for the next ensemble run and rush all over the stage and around me. I soak in the moment and then walk off stage, back to the dressing room. I'm overcome by the congratulations from my fellow dancers and friends.

When the show ends, I wash my face and change into my old yoga pants and UW sweatshirt. I tie my running shoes and throw my bag over my shoulder as I make my way out of the building. Everyone is coming over to the house tonight for drinks to celebrate. Nothing big, just hanging out as we usually do. When I turn the corner, I have to do a double take when I see Donna standing there against the wall.

"You were amazing, dear," she says as she walks toward me.

I haven't spoken to her since Ryan and I broke up. She has called several times, but I knew it would hurt too much to answer. Donna filled a place in my heart that was only hers to fill. She's the mother I'd always wanted—the one I'd always needed.

"What are you doing here?"

Pulling me into her arms, I savor her embrace as she says, "I told you I would be here." Leaning back, she adds, "I couldn't miss seeing you dance. You were beautiful. I knew you were amazing, but I just had no idea you were that amazing."

"Thank you," I say as a smile breaks across my face. "I still can't believe you're here."

"I tried calling a few times, but—"

"I'm sorry. I know you called. It just...It hurt to lose Ryan, but it hurt to lose you too."

"You didn't lose me. I love you, dear. You will always have me whenever you need me. I know Ryan hurt you, and I understand it might be easier if I'm not around, but please know that I am always here for you."

Her words hit where they always hit: deep inside. My chin quivers as I try not to cry, and I go in for another hug. When she wraps her comforting arms around me, I let the tears free. "I'm glad you came. I've missed talking to you." When I step back, I add, "But you're right, it hurts. You were the best gift Ryan ever gave me, but I need the space right now."

"Of course. I understand."

"I'm sorry."

"You have absolutely nothing to be sorry about. I am so proud of you. You will do amazing things. Just keep following that strong heart of yours."

"Thank you, Donna. Really...thank you for everything."

"Well, I better get going. Congratulations."

I smile at her one last time as she turns to walk out of the building. Another pang of loss eats me from the inside and I cry. I don't fight it; I just let it envelop me. After a few minutes, I walk outside into the cold rainy night and welcome the chilling drops that plunk down on me and mix with my hot tears. I keep telling myself it'll be okay, because I know it will be. I have to believe in that.