Chapter Ten

         The past two days at school with Kendall have been good. She seemed a little distracted and tired on Thursday but she didn’t want to talk about it so I left her alone. I had a feeling that was one of those topics I couldn’t push her on. She’d talk about it when she was ready. I just wished there was something I could do for her considering how she wasn’t mentally present that day. I had to call her name more than once or shake her to get her attention. Eventually I left her alone all together. I’ve learned that when she’s like that it’s best to just let her work it out on her own. It’s not a selfish thing where she didn’t want to share with me. It was a Kendall thing. I understand that.

            But Friday she was a little better and since its Saturday, she should be just fine. We talked a bit last night and she said that she was looking forward to today.

            I’ve got on some of my best:

 

            Black Khaki Shorts - Check

            White Ralph Lauren polo - Check

            White Adidas Adi-Rise shoes - Check

            White Deep Brooklyn Hat - Check

            Black button down Abercrombie Varsity Cardigan �" Check

 

            A brother looks good. I turn in the mirror before squirting on a couple of sprays of Usher. I check my hair and the waves are straight but I brush it a few more times to get it as close to perfect as possible. I turn again in the mirror. A brother looks so good ya’ gotta say it twice.

            I head downstairs where my parents are in the living room watching the box. Trish is laid out on the love seat reading a book. She lowers her book when I enter the room.

            “Where are you going?”

            “You know that place up the street?”

            “No.”

            “My point exactly. It’d be no point in telling you.”

            My mother laughs, “Don’t do your sister like that, son.”

            I shrug.

            “Is your sister invited?”

            “No, Ma!”

            “He’s going on a date, honey. No siblings allowed.”

            “Thanks, Dad.”

            “There’s a girl in the picture already?”

            “Yeah. She’s something special, Mama. You’d like her.”

            “So when can I meet this girl?”

            “One step at a time, Mama.”

            “That’s my boy,” my father says.

            My phone chimes out “I Wanna Be” by Chris Brown and I answer it quickly but not desperately.

            “Yeah? Um hm. Okay, I’ll be right out.”

            I hang up, “Don’t wait up, peeps.”

            When I leave the house, that awesome car with that awesome girl in it is at the end of my driveway.

            I get in and the first thing I notice is that today she smells like something I can’t put my finger on but I love it instantly. The second thing I notice is the music. Yet another artist I’ve never heard of. The third thing I notice, which you’d think would be the first, is how good she looks. She has bed head but it looks like it’s styled that way. Then she has on a navy blue tank top, navy blue and white striped button down sweater with the sleeves pushed up so you can see the tat on her left forearm and a dark blue jean skirt. When I look up into her eyes, a pair of deep black aviators are staring back at me.

            “Hey, handsome. We might be able to sneak in a little one on one but I’m waiting for my boyfriend.”

            “Hey, beautiful.” I lean across to hug her.

            “You’re wearing that cologne I love so much.”

            “And you’re wearing something new. I think this is my favorite so far.”

            I feel like I’m being watched and sure enough, when I look toward the house, Patricia’s in the doorway.

            “Shall we get going?”

            “Yeah.”

            She speeds away and I’m thankful that she drives like this. It’ll get us away from my house and my sister faster.

            “So, who are we listening to?”

            “Oh! Uh, Kate Voegele.”

            “I have no clue who that is.”

            She laughs and she looks so laid back that I almost think she’s someone else. She’s got the windows down and she’s mouthing the lyrics to a song I’m sure she’s played a million times. Her hair’s blowing all over but she just smoothes it back not at all annoyed that it continues to get in her way. The sun’s bouncing off of her glasses and an unnoticed smile plays on her lips. She’s got that supposedly heavy necklace on that isn’t moving at all and about a million and one bands around both wrists. She isn’t my type at all but maybe that’s why I find her so irresistible.

            We pull up to the place and she whips into a parking space that I hadn’t even seen.

            When we get out I see her all white low top Converse. She’s also got a white messenger bag which I’m sure contains her camera. I’m also keenly aware that her sweater isn’t buttoned up so I can kind of see her stomach when she moves the right way.

The building is really cool. It’s got a Roman feel to it with the pillars and what not.

            “Hi, Kendall.”

            “Hi, Martin. This is Will. He’s with me.”

            “No problem.”

            “VIP.”

            She smiles, “No. I just come here enough and I used to volunteer here all the time.”

            “Wow. What is this?”

            I spot this picture of a long white piece of cloth that stretches as far as the picture will go.

            “It’s called Running Fence and its creation began in 1972 and was finished in 1976 by Christo and Jeanne-Claude. It was eighteen feet high and twenty-four and a half miles long. It took over two million square feet of white nylon fabric hung from a steel cable strung between two more two thousand steel poles embedded three feet into the ground and braced only with guy wires and fourteen thousand earth anchors. The top and bottom edges were secured to the upper and lower cables by 350,000 hooks. They funded the project themselves. It took them five years to complete and they began taking it down after fourteen days. All that work and there isn’t a shred of evidence that it ever existed outside these photographs. What I wouldn’t give to see it with my own eyes.”

            I have nothing to say. She is a photographer through and through.

            “Sorry for rambling. Your silence suggests that I bore you.”

            “No,no. I was listening. You know a lot about it.”

            “I hope to be hung in this very museum some day. If not all the ones in California and anywhere else art is appreciated. It’s my dream.”

            “It’ll come true.”

            She blushes and looks away.

            Oh, yeah. Today is going to be swell.

            She grabs my hand and leads me down all these different hallways where she explains her favorite works and her not so favorite ones. As into this as she is though, I like the fact that she gives me a chance to take it all in and come up with my own opinion. She doesn’t mind that I don’t agree with her. All around, she’s been great today.

            “Oh, I forgot this.”

            She shoves her hand into her bag and pulls out a necklace. The necklace we talked about at lunch.

            “For you.”

            I smile, take it from her and put it on.

            She’s smiling at me, too, so I hug her. It feels different because my mind and body are conscious that she’s wearing fewer clothes and that today could be what I am calling “The Kiss.”

            I’ve got my hand on her lower back and it’s touching the skin her tank isn’t covering. She’s soft underneath her tough exterior and clothes it would seem.

            She’s pulling away with her face angled toward me which, to any guy, is an invite to a girl’s lips. It’s now or later, Will.

            As soon as I lock eyes with her, I go in. Like any girl, she does the 40/60 thing with me and that’s just fine. I’m sure it’ll be worth it.

            When our lips lock, it’s more softness. She’s obviously kissed before because she doesn’t do the traditional completely closed mouth kiss. She parts her lips enough for mine to fit into hers but not enough for any extra tomfoolery. I like the way this makes me feel closer to her. She’s totally relaxed with her arms around my neck and slightly on her tip toes like when we hug.

            Someone clears their throat and we pull apart.

            She giggles and pulls me away from prying eyes.

            We’re in a dark corner where she pulls me toward her and kisses me for real this time. I’m a little behind because I’m shocked but I make quick work of catching up. I ease my hand up the back of her tank only somewhat. I don’t want to unnerve her. She’s making all the right sounds only for me to hear. I don’t know if she’s detected it but, I’m definitely holding back. I want to kiss her harder, go a little further but we’re in a museum and it’s not time for “further” in this relationship yet.

            She’s holding me tighter; trying to pull me closer which is impossible. Her back’s pressed up against the wall and I’m pressed up against her. This want she’s displaying for more is encouragement for me, so I kiss her harder and I feel the reaction in her body. I hear a low moan letting me know that she registers my additional force. I support her with my right hand and support us with my left on the wall. I put my left leg between hers and that’s when she pushes me away.

            She’s breathing heavy whereas I’m not even breaking a sweat. She leans her head back against the wall catching her breath. I take a step toward her but she holds her hand out to stop me.

            “Kendall, I’m-

            “Don’t be sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong. In fact, you did everything right. It’s just been awhile since I’ve made out with anyone and we’re in a museum and we’re not ready for that yet. Kissing is one thing. The Do, I fear, is something completely different.”

            “’The Do’?”

            “Sex.”

            I laugh, “Oh.”

            She laughs too and we’re back in our mutual comfort zone. I grab her arms and force her eyes on mine.

            “I’ll never force you to do anything you don’t want to.”

            She looks away, “I know.”

            “Say it to me.”

            She looks back into my eyes, “I know.”

           

            “Cadent?”

            I look away from my currently amazing boyfriend and roll my eyes at who spoke my pen name.

            “Do you remember me?”

            “Yes, Ms. Campbell.”

            “Is there a problem here?”

            “Why would there be?”

            “It’s just…the way he was holding your arms-

            “I assure you, it’s not at all what you made it look like. Will is my boyfriend and he wasn’t being-

            I stop acutely alert to how close to this conversation Will is.

            “Can you excuse us?”

            He nods and wanders off but not too far that I can’t find him again.

            “He’s not abusing me. No one is. Why can’t you accept that?”

            “Because just like I know a bruise when I see one, I know a lie when I hear one.”

            “Obviously not. Will is not abusive.”

            “But someone is.”

            “I thought the whole purpose of your organization was to help people who wanted help, not force your help upon people.”

            “You’re right. But there’s just something about you, Cadent. I can’t stop thinking about you or what could be happening to you. You’re something special; too special to die so young. You have a bright future ahead of you. I just want you to have a chance at it.”

            I sigh.

            “And I’m assuming this boy with whom you are so fond is also in the dark about your oppressor. Otherwise you wouldn’t have sent him away.”

            “Will doesn’t need to know. It’s best for us both if he doesn’t…What am I saying? I’m not being abused. I’m living a happy, vibrant life.”

            “Is that why you’re so bitter?”

            “What do you want from me, lady?”

            “If you’re not going to tell me who’s doing this, at least allow me to be there for you. You know I’m not going to back off. You know I know that you’re not telling the truth about your abuse. You don’t have to tell me who but you can talk to me when things are bad or whatever you need. “

            “Will is there for me just fine.”

            “How long have the two of you been dating?”

            I can’t believe she’s got me talking to her.

            “A week.”

            “He’ll figure it out if he’s as great as you give him credit for. And the way you two were going at it, he’ll see the marks soon enough. I can almost guarantee you didn’t want to get involved with him for fear that any sexual contact might compromise your secret.”

            I look away. No one has ever had me pegged this well.

            “I’m not here to call you out. I just want you to realize, you can’t hide this secret forever.”

            “Not forever; just until I leave for college.”

            “You could be dead by then.”

            I don’t like to think about the “D” word.

            “’Dead’? Wow. You’re bold.”

            “I have to be in this business. You deserve the truth, do you not? Would you like me to tell you what happens to all the girls who think they can stick it out?”

            “No.”

            “Considerably less than half get to ‘leave for college’ as you say.”

            “Listen, I hear what you’re saying, alright?” My voice is raised but I’m not quite shouting. “But I believe that I have what it takes to make it, that is, if I were being abused.”

            “What makes you think you can make it through this nonexistent abuse?”

            I smile and look away, “My brothers.”

            “Okay. I see that this isn’t what you want.”

            “Finally.”

            “But can I at least ask that you call and talk to me when it does happen? I know you won’t be calling Will.”

            “Why? So you can keep a tab on them? So you can see if there’s a pattern?”

            “So that I can hear that you’re okay.”

            I’m thinking. I didn’t expect her to say that. I pace and put my hand through my hair which I’m glad to say I am letting growing out. I have a feeling Will would like it longer besides the fact that it’s been this length for some time. It’s time for a change.

            “Lisa!” I hear a woman call.

            “Cadent?”

            She wants an answer.

            She’s right. I don’t have anyone to talk to about this besides Ella and she’s not always around.

            “Maybe.”

            “It’s all I ask.”

            She backs away then turns to go meet her friend.

            I can’t believe she got me to talk. She caught me while I was open. That openness was reserved for Will but she managed to get what she wanted out of it. Now I feel exposed and I want to close myself off for the remainder of the day but that wouldn’t be fair to him. It’s not his fault she popped up out of thin air.

            I turn to see Will looking at a drawing that he me must be dying to touch because his hands are crammed into his pockets and he’s fidgeting like crazy. I smile a little and that gets me back on the path to the utopia I was enjoying with him.

            I walk up behind him and put my face in his back and my hands on his chest.

            “Sounded like some intense murmuring.”

            I don’t say anything.

            “I wanted to come over.”

            I feel the vibrations on his back as he voices his concern for me. I listen to him breath when he becomes silent due to my lack of response to anything he’s said.

            “Kenny?”

            That releases me from my sudden peace of mind. I hate the nickname “Kenny”. That’s why everyone tries so hard to come up with a nickname for me that dances around the obvious. I know Will doesn’t know and the name means something totally different coming out of his mouth. But still.

            “I’m hungry.”

            I finally let him go and he turns to me. He takes a real good look into my eyes trying to get a clue without breaking our No Reading Me agreement.

            “Where can we go? What’re you in the mood for?”

            “Shrimp. Red Lobster.”

            “You know the area better than I do. Lead the way.”

            I say goodbye to Martin when we pass him in the lobby. Ms. Campbell is outside on the stairs. We lock eyes but don’t necessarily acknowledge one another.       

           

            After we eat, she simply drops me off at home. I try to get her to talk to me but she’s shut down. Red Lobster was fun but it wasn’t as great as I know it could’ve been.

            Who was that woman that Kendall would get so flustered over whatever she said? I want to know so much. I want to know it all. But there’s really no point in pushing her when she’s already been pushed. That’s not what she needs.

            We kiss before I get out of the car and she drives away without a second glance toward me. She’s rushing to be alone. I wasn’t enough to get her back to normal. Our relationship isn’t that concrete just yet.

            I walk into a silent house and I’m glad Trish isn’t here to stare me down like that’d get me to spill my guts. I sigh and head up to my room. Trish has her reasons and they’re pure. That gets me thinking about what I told Kendall; how I told her the reason my sister was so over protective is because I was born premature. Trish and I are only a year apart so there’s no way she could remember. But thank goodness Kendall is all too aware of sibling bonds. She believed me. I didn’t want to lie to her but I couldn’t tell her what had really happened. It’s too embarrassing and too private.

            I’ve grown up since then and it really doesn’t affect me so much. It’s in the past is what my parents have been telling me since it all ended and they’re right. I can’t let it shape who I am right now. I recovered nicely compared to some others. I was fortunate. If you can call it that.

            Upstairs, I go up to the attic and onto the little balcony that oversees the park. This is where I first saw Kendall. And this is where I see her again. She’s in the little area that I call claustrophobic. She’s lying across a blanket that she must have had in her car. So this is where she goes to be alone. She sits up and hugs her knees to her chest. She’s not okay. She puts her face in her hands and shakes her head. What is she doing? She pulls something from her bag. It’s a little white piece of paper. She holds it between the index and thumb with both hands. It feels a little like I’m spying on her.

            She lets the paper float to the ground then slams her fist into it. A moment later she dusts it off and puts it back in her bag. Next, she pulls out her phone and twirls it around in one hand. She’s thinking about something. She gets up and paces. What’s she nervous about? She must have come to some type of conclusion because the phone is to her ear. I’m half expecting my phone to ring but it doesn’t.

            After her phone call, she rubs her neck then folds her arms. What’s she waiting for? Who would she be so uncomfortable to call yet do it anyway? Kendall doesn’t usually do things that she’s not comfortable with but she forced herself to do this. This is something new for me as far as she’s concerned. I know she’s a lot more complicated than she showed me at the beginning but this new, sudden turn of events kind of makes me uneasy. Then again, she was uncomfortable around me at first. That was unusual for her.

            I’m starting to think that whoever she called couldn’t make it when I see a figure crossing the park from the right. It’s only when the person gets closer that I realize why I felt uneasy.

 

            “What’s wrong? Are you alright?”

            “I’m fine, Julian.”

            “If you called me, you can’t be all that fine.”

            “I just needed my best friend. I know we haven’t exactly been that for a year now but…you’re all I’ve got in that category,” I say looking away.

            “You’re right. You do got me. Now, what happened?”

            I don’t know where to start. I only want to give him enough info for him to make his own assessment.

            “Hey, it’s alright. You can tell me.”

            He pulls me into him and hugs me. He smells the same as always, like water; like he lives in it. I can tell he was in bed too because he’s got his pajama bottoms on with flip-flops. Julian is not the kind of guy who comes out of the house like this. He likes to look his best at all times. Unless he’s coming to see a friend who made a late SOS phone call to him.

            He entwines my fingers with his and leads me to one of the park benches.

            “I’m…I’m kind of in a sticky situation that I don’t really care to get myself out of. But other people do want to get me out of this situation. No one knows exactly what’s going on but they can tell that something’s not right. I haven’t told anyone.”

            I look into his face and see he’s listening intently. Good. I really need help with this.

            “I recently met this woman who’s a fan of my photos. She sort of clued in on my circumstances and she’s determined to help me. She won’t leave me alone and now she’s popping up in the most random places, places I wouldn’t think to see her. She’s pretty sure about what’s going on but not about whom it involves besides myself. She says she only wants to help but I get the feeling that her idea of helping is to know the whole state of affairs and take care of everything. I don’t think she’d be satisfied with only talking to me which is all she says she interested in; being someone I can talk to,” I finish. “What should I do?”

            His eyebrows go up and he whistles a long soft sound.

            “First off,” he says then narrows his eyes, “can you tell me what’s going on?”

            “No.”

            “How am I supposed to gage whether or not this woman is justly concerned if I don’t know what’s going on? I won’t tell a soul.”

            “And I believe you, but you’d be upset and you’d want to do things. You’d feel guilty and stupid and I don’t want you to feel any of those things. This is my choice. I’ve chosen this. I don’t want help. I don’t want pity. I don’t want a solution. I just wanna be.”

            “Please, Kendall. You deserve to have someone to vent to. Properly. This is what best friends are for. Let me be your out.”

            I’m really considering telling him but I’ve never told anyone. I don’t know how to tell. To explain how my father went from adoring and loving me to putting his fist through my chest like he hates me doesn’t sound like an easy task. It’s easier to keep to myself. I don’t want anyone to know. It’s no one’s fault but my own and of course everyone who knows me will blame themselves for not seeing; for not noticing. This is my own fault. It’s like Melinda in that book Speak. Everyone had noticed that she’d changed but they didn’t bother to ask why. They didn’t bother to find out why.

            I stand up, “No, Julian. You don’t deserve such a burden. I’m fine. I’ve been fine. I just need you to help me right now.”

            He growls in frustration, his teeth clenched together. I rest my hand on top of his head which I used to always do when we were kids and even afterward. It became habitual.

            “I think, if you can’t talk to Will about it and you can’t talk to me about it, you should talk to her. She knows what you’re going through whereas we don’t. She’s better suited to give you the advice and encouragement you may need.”

            He looks hurt. His elbows are on his knees and his face is shadowed. I’m remembering why I fell for him in the first place so this would be a good time to wrap up this conversation and go home.

            “Thanks for coming, J.”

            “Is this the hell you were implying when we talked on Tuesday?”

            Oh, crap.

            “What?”

            “On Tuesday you said after we stopped talking, your hell began. That you needed me but I disregarded you. I let you drown.”

            Damn him and the fact that he was actually taking note when I was talking back then. Guys always listen when you don’t want them to.

            “Yeah, it is.”

            He grabs the hand that was still on his head and stands.

            “Well, just know how sorry I am for everything. And if this woman doesn’t work out, you can talk to me.”

            He grabs my chin so that I have to look into his powerful grey eyes that I tried so hard to avoid the whole time we were out here together.

            “Thanks. It’s good to hear you say it.”

            “One more thing: I’m not giving up on us.”

            I blush and nod because there’s really nothing more I can tell him. I can’t make it any clearer.

            “I gotta get going,” I say.

            “Goodnight, Ken.”

            He hugs me once more, tighter and longer then watches me get in my car and drive away.

If someone had told me a year ago that I’d be in the park after dark baring my soul to Julian, I would’ve laughed in their face. And especially after coming from a date with my boyfriend? Laughable.

            I’m glad I called him though. It really helped me decide and he made me feel better. This is why he was my best friend. He was concerned and practical.

            I realize I’m out a little later than usual. I just hope he takes into consideration that he allowed me to go out and have fun today.

            When I walk into the house, it’s dark. I go into the kitchen and have a glass of water.

            “Have fun?”

            I jump at his voice. It’s so much stronger without the light for some reason.

            “I did. Thanks for letting me go out.”

            “No problem.”

            He comes over and kisses my head. He’s heading back out of the kitchen and I’m relaxing until I see him stop. He slowly turns.

            “You reek of cologne.”

            I’m scared silent.

            “I’m assuming your silence means that you are aware that you smell of cologne. It’s not mine. So whose is it?”

            “I-I-I don’t…” I’m scrambling for a feasible excuse.

            My distracted mind keeps me from seeing his fist coming down on my face. I fall back and hit the left side of my face on the counter. My head is spinning. He comes and stands over me. I must have hit my head pretty hard because he’s a blur but then I quickly realize they’re tears. The water escapes over the brims of both eyes and he becomes clear again.

            “It was Julian. I ran into him when I stopped to get something to eat.”

            “Julian? The same Julian who you were hoeing around with two summers ago?”

            Hoeing. I hate when he used that word in reference to me.

            “Out paths crossed. We exchanged words.”

            “Only words, right? No bodily fluids?”

            I narrow my eyes and glare at the floor, “Only words.

            He grabs my arm and pulls me to my feet. He goes in the freezer and pulls out an icepack. We have these on hand for these very types of incidents.

            “Wait. It’s bleeding.”

            He wipes the blood away with a towel but it keeps coming. He gives me another ice pack for the cut.

            “I think you’re going to need stitches.”

            “Great.”

            “Let’s go. We’re going to the hospital.”

            “I’ll be fine.”

            “Come one. Now!”

            I follow him out to the car. My head is killing me so I fall asleep in the car and wake up after the stitches.

“Perfect,” I moan groggily.

            “Kendall?”

            I look around and see the doctor at the little desk in the exam room.

            “Yes?”

            “How do you feel?”

            “Fine,” I say touching the stitches.

            “Can you tell me what happened?”

            I don’t like this question. Didn’t this doctor talk to my father? Didn’t he get the whole made up story from him? My father told him something but apparently, this doctor didn’t believe him.

            “What do you mean?” I ask, playing the fool.

            “How did you cut your eyebrow and get this bruise on your face?”

            “Didn’t you talk to my dad?”

            “Yes, however you are of age and I’d like to hear it from you.”

            Oh, crap.

            “I-

            “What’s going on here? Kendall, you’re awake.”

            He looks at the doctor’s frustrated face.

            “Were you trying to talk to a minor without a parent or guardian present?”

            “Of course, I was. Your story of her falling down the stairs yet sustaining no bruises or scars to any other part of her body is vastly improbable. And if you’d lie about this, there must be some reason you don’t want me to know about.”

            “I can have you fired. Don’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong, doctor, or you’ll find yourself and your family on the streets. And there won’t be an office in California that will have you. Do you comprehend the threat I’m sending?”

            I can tell the doctor’s taken aback by my father’s admittance that this is a threat. His next line was probably going to be “Are you threatening me, Mr. Carter?”

            My father places his hand toward my lower back and guides me out of the office. We’re going home.

            Once we’ve reached our destination, he goes into his room without so much as of an apology.

            I follow his lead and go into my own room where I dry swallow one of the prescribed pills and look forward to the burn it brings. I was never any good at this without water but that burn is more welcome than the burn of more evidence that my father doesn’t love me.

            In the mirror, I stripe down and think of how my body is upside down. Or should I say the bruises are? My body itself is free of any evidence of abuse but my face, however, is not. It’s in reverse. My face is usually free and clear whereas my body is not. His anger was misplaced tonight. Or rather, his fist was misplaced. He never goes for the tell-tale visible places unless he’s blinded by his fury. Me and a boy? That would do the trick. Me and a girl? I wonder how he’d handle that.

            I pull my hair up and grimace as my hand grazes the stitches on the left side of my eyebrow. I won’t be wearing my hair up for awhile. It’s a good thing I’m letting it grow out. How will I hide this from Will? He’s all about the questions and knowing what’s running through my mind. I’ll just have to force him to drop it. It sounds so simple but a simple task it will prove not.

            I’m pulling fresh pajamas from my drawer when I remember Julian. What will I tell him? He already knows more than Will. Will he be a more difficult obstacle to overcome as far as hiding my secret? I should never have told Julian but it felt good to tell someone.

            When I pick up my bag to put it away, some of my things fall out. While picking up said things, I see her card. I force the other stuff into the bag and put it away but the card I hold on to. I eye the phone number in its shiny print. I pop the card with my other hand. It flicks back toward me every time I pop it the other direction. When it comes back, it’s like I can hear her voice, “Call me”, “Let me be there for you”, “Let me know that you’re okay”.

            Before I know it the vibrations on my phone are making me aware that I’m dialing the number. What’re you doing, fingers? Those very same fingers are bringing the phone to my ear. I’m nervous now but I calm down when I realize how late it is. She probably won’t-

            “Hello?”

            Oh, crap.

            All I can think to do is be silent. She doesn’t have my number so she won’t know it’s me.

            “Hello? Who is this?”

            I smile on the inside at the discovery that I can hang up and she’ll never know then all hopes of that little dream dies.

            “Cadent.”

            How did she know? There’s no possible way that she could have my number. Did she google me? Did she call information? Cadent Karrell is not real. That’s when it all comes flooding back at me. The day I met her, she got me to give her my card because I took pictures of her. She probably saved my number the minute I drove away.

            “I know it’s you,” she says softly. “Did something happen? Are you alright?”

            I let out a heavy breath, “I’m fine,” then hang up.

            My hand must be under my control again because it just falls to my side. I stand in the middle of my dark room; naked. I can see the massive silhouette of my black canopy bed in contrast to the dull light my white bedspread gives off. I see myself ghost by in a peripheral glance of the mirror on top of my dresser as I pass it.

I dress and leave my phone on the nightstand. She’s not calling back. I called her after I made it pretty clear that I wouldn’t. She knows it was hard for me but she also knows I’m okay.

Out on my balcony, I sit in my little chair. I won’t be getting any “beauty” sleep tonight. I’ll only be allowing the bags under my eyes to lease my features for a longer stay. I look out into the night and let the vastness take me away to thoughts that are beyond me and my insignificantly significant life.