Falling

28

“What are you doing?” I ask when I walk through the front door and see Candace bent over in my kitchen, wrapping her thighs in Saran Wrap.

Peeking her head up, she tells me, “Helping my muscles recover,” as if this image isn’t anything out of the realm of normal.

I start laughing at her while she continues to wrap her legs. “Explain this to me because I’m dying to know.”

She rips the plastic from the roll and sets it on the counter before defending, “I swear it works. I’ve been doing it for years.”

“Wrapping yourself up like leftovers?” I tease.

“No,” she drags out. “You see, I use Tiger Balm,” she says as she hands me a tiny brown jar that can’t hold any more than an ounce. “Then, I seal it in with plastic wrap. It traps in the vapors, which allows for maximum absorption, bringing more relief to my muscles.”

Setting the jar down, I say, “Are you not worried about a chemical burn or some shit like that?”

“It’s never happened before,” she says as she walks out of the kitchen and into the living room.

Watching her, I laugh at the image . . . and the sound.

“Candace, this is some crazy shit you do, you know that right?”

She takes a seat on the couch as I move to join her.

“Yes, I know, but I swear it helps. Look, I have my audition in two days, and I’m freaking out because I keep getting these cramps in my legs. I’ve upped my calcium and potassium, but it’s still bothering me.”

“Give me your legs,” I tell her and she shifts to lie on her back, kicking her feet onto my lap.

“What are you doing?” she asks when I turn to the side to face her.

“I’m gonna give your calves a solid rubdown.”

She smiles as I start to knead my fingers into her muscles. I can’t get enough of her legs, even wrapped up like she has them. They are solid and sexy, and I take my time, thoroughly enjoying myself, as I give her calves a deep massage. She closes her eyes and relaxes while I make good use of the next thirty minutes.

When I’m done, I take her up to my bathroom where she begins to unwrap her legs.

“God, that shit stinks,” I complain as she wads up the wrap and tosses it to me.

“Be nice,” she scolds playfully. “I’m gonna take a quick shower. I’ll come to bed in a few minutes.”

“Okay,” I say when I lean down to peck her lips before I leave and close the door behind me.

I run downstairs to plug my cell into its charger in my office before locking up. Candace has her dance bag by the front door with her toe shoes lying on top of a towel. Walking over, I kneel down and run my finger over the dirty, torn pink satin. You can see the burn marks on the ribbon where I can tell she has used a lighter to stop them from fraying.

It’s ironic how these shoes mirror Candace. On the verge of falling apart. Barely holding together. Yet they do. She’s strong even though she’s breaking. I don’t see her doing anything to heal; she’s hiding and masking what I know is eating away at her. And these shoes, as worn as they are, they’re still strong and beautiful.

Turning off the lights, I head back upstairs and lie down. When Candace is done drying her hair, she crawls in next me, and I curl myself around her. We don’t talk as we both drift off to sleep.

When I stir awake, I’m alone in bed. Sitting up, I lean over to her nightstand to check the time on her phone. It’s after two in the morning. I roll out of bed and walk out to the top of the stairs and see her. She’s downstairs, sitting on the couch in the dark, watching the rain fall. The past couple nights since she’s been staying here, she hasn’t slept well. I haven’t said anything to her, but she spends most of her nights in a fit of restless sleep, keeping me awake while I hold her and just watch.

Quietly, I walk down the stairs and across the room. As I round the couch, I see her wrapped up in a blanket, and she’s crying. My heart is so heavy, and I don’t know what to do. All I want is to take it all away, but I don’t know how to do that.

She senses me and turns to look. I see it all over her face—the pain. She’s so tired. Without any words spoken, I sit down next to her and wipe the tears that stain her cheeks.

“I can’t sleep,” she whispers to me.

I look over her face, searching for words, but my own sadness wells up inside of my chest, and I can see the pleading in her eyes. She doesn’t want me to question why she’s crying, so I don’t. I already know. Pulling her closer to me, I hold on to her as she draws her legs up to her chest, cuddling into me. She turns her head and continues to watch the rain while I sit here in a painful silence. All that fills my head is the sound of her shrieking cries from that night, and I do everything I can to keep my emotions intact. Eventually, she dozes off and I scoop her up, carrying her back to bed.

I’ve been sitting here, anxiously waiting for Candace to get back. She left a couple hours ago for her audition at Meany Theater. I wanted to go with her, but she made me stay, saying that she didn’t want anything to distract her. I wouldn’t have been able to go into the theater to watch, but I wanted to at least be there to support her, but I understand.

She was a jittery mess all morning, and I did what I could to relax her, but she was too distracted to focus on anything, including me. Her determination and the neurotic behavior that comes along with it make me smile. She even broke out the Saran Wrap again when she woke up.

As soon as I hear the front door open, I walk out of my office to see Candace running down the hall. She jumps into my arms, wrapping her legs around my waist, and I’ve never seen a more perfect smile. She’s elated, and her joy is infectious, making me laugh, saying, “I take it you kicked ass?”

“I totally kicked ass. It was amazing!”

Her legs are clutched so tightly around me that I don’t even have to hold on to her, so I take my hands from her hips, move them to her face, and kiss her smile. She crashes her mouth with mine, enthusiasm controlling her. Taking her, I press her back up against the hallway wall, and before I can go in deeper with our kiss, she pulls away and starts laughing, telling me all about her audition. She spews out a bunch of French ballet shit, and I have no clue what she’s talking about, but she’s excited and happy, and that’s all I need to know. My smile is big as I stand here and watch her.

“I’m so proud of you, babe. I wish I could have seen you.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” she says as she combs her fingers through my hair. “Auditions are always closed.”

“When will you find out?”

“March first.”

“Next week?”

“Yeah, Friday,” she answers excitedly before pulling my head back to hers to kiss me, but I’ve got something to tell her as well.

Mumbling over her mouth, I say, “I’ve got news too.”

Not willing to take her lips from mine, she mutters, “What’s that?”

“Thinkspace Gallery called.”

Her head pops back. “And . . .?”

“They accepted your photo.”

“Your photo?!”

“No, your photo, babe.”

She smiles. She knows that picture is all her, and I refuse to take the credit for it.

“Congratulations,” she tells me, and I slow her down, wanting to really feel her against me.

I kiss her softly, gently sucking on her bottom lip as I graze my tongue along it. She tangles her hands in my hair when I band my arms around her. We move like this, taking our time, and when she pulls back, she peers into my eyes. There’s a look in her eyes that I can’t peg, so I ask, “What is it, babe?”

She takes her hand and runs it slowly down the side of my face, and I see the wall crumbling.

“I love you.”

Every part of me awakens, and I’ve never felt so alive. I didn’t think I needed to hear those words as much I did, but the trust that comes with them was what I craved the most.

“You’ll never know what those words just did to me,” I tell her and then carry her over to the couch so that I can show her, in our own way, how much I love her.

I lie on top of her, and she begins to lift up my shirt, so I reach over my head and pull it off. Sliding my hand down her leg, I lift it and wrap it around my hip.

“I’m sorry you had to wait so long,” she breathes.

“Don’t be,” I tell her. “You don’t even know how much you have already given me. When I met you, I found me.”

She smiles, saying again, “I love you.”

“I love you too, babe.”

We move slowly and spend the next hour making out the way we tend to do. I want more with her. I’ll always want more, but for now, I enjoy taking my time with her and savor every piece as she gives it to me.

“Ryan?”

Her soft voice pulls me from my sleep as I roll over and drape my arm around her from behind.

“Yeah, babe?” I whisper with my eyes still closed, but she doesn’t answer, so I let myself begin to drift back to sleep.

“Ryan?”

She calls my name louder, almost panicky, and when I open my eyes to look over at her, she’s still sleeping. I watch her for a second and then she screams, “Ryan!” as she flips onto her back, her hands clenched into fists.

“Baby, wake up,” I say as I hover over her, scared to touch her.

She begins trembling, pleading in a strained voice, “Please, not again.”

Fuck. Knowing exactly what her dream is, I panic. “Candace, babe. Wake up.”

“Get off of me!” she yells, frantically kicking her legs.

Quickly straddling them, I grip her upper arms as she thrashes herself against my hold.

“Get the fuck off of me!” she shrieks, and when she opens her eyes, tears fall freely down the sides of her face. She looks at me, but there’s nothing there. No focus. Her eyes are completely glazed over, scaring the shit out of me. “God, please stop!”

“Candace, wake up!” I bark at her, desperate for her to snap out of her nightmare.

She’s in a frenzy, screaming hysterically. Crying. I let go of her, and when I do, she desperately shuffles back and away from me, falling off the bed and hard onto her hip. I hop off the bed and kneel down in front of her as she’s huddled in a ball against the wall, sobbing.

“Don’t fuckin’ touch me!” she screams when I hold her shoulders with my hands, but I don’t take them off of her.

“Candace, open your eyes,” I beg as she covers her face with her hands. She’s so loud, and my mind is overwhelmed with anxiety.

Her breathing is rapid and she’s terrified, but I need her to know she’s safe.

“Candace, please. Look at me. It’s only me here with you.”

I take her wrists to move her hands from her face, and she turns her head to the wall as she cries.

“Babe, please don’t hide from me.”

She struggles to breathe through her tears, and when she begins to gasp, I tug her between my legs and her body gives in, falling limp into my arms. I hold her tight. Tighter than I have ever held anyone. She has to get this secret out of her. It’s agonizing to see how this is tormenting her. I just need her to get it out.

I rub her back while she has her head tucked into my chest. She’s no longer screaming, but the crying continues.

I don’t want her to hide from me, so I tell her, “You have to look at me. Please.” With my hands, I move her head up to face me. She opens her eyes, and I hate the fear and embarrassment I see in them.

“You okay?”

She simply nods.

“What happened?”

Lowering her head, she takes a couple deep breaths before asking, “Can you please call Jase?”

“What?” I hate this shit. That she would run to him in a heartbeat like I don’t exist. Like I’m not enough for her, but he is. “Shit, Candace, no,” I tell her, refusing to allow her to run from me. She told me she loves me, I just need her to trust me enough to be here for her.

“Please.” She begins to cry again.

“Candace, no. You can’t always run to him. Need me for a change,” I beg. “Talk to me.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” I urge. God, just talk to me. Tell me. Get this out of you so that you can start dealing with it.

“No, I can’t. Please. I just can’t,” she strains through her sobs.

“But you can with Jase?” I question in disbelief. I thought we were past this.

“I want you to need me,” I plead, tightening my hold around her. I feel desperate.

“I do.”

“You don’t,” I say. “You cling to him for everything. Look at me,” I demand and then hold her hands, pressing them hard against my chest, and beg, “Cling to me. Love me enough to need me.”

“I can’t . . . I . . .”

“Why?”

“Because . . . you’d leave me.”

“Not happening, babe.”

“Ryan, please.”

“I’m not leaving you,” I assure her. She can tell me this; I know she can, and I need her to. “Nothing you could say would make me want to leave you.”

“I’m just too fucked up.” Her face is covered in tears that I just want to kiss away. I wanna take all of her pain away, but I resist the urge to give in to her. So I keep encouraging, knowing that I’m guiding her to a painful place.

“We’re all fucked up,” I tell her. “I want you to let me in.”

Her body is shuddering as the sobs wrack her. I’m powerless, and it fuckin’ sucks.

“I can’t! You’ll never look at me the same. You’ll run away.”

She says this and I want to cry for her. Take her pain and shove it deep inside of me. I’d take her misery as my own in a second.

Wrapping my hand behind her head, I hold it close to my heart when I vow, “I promise you, nothing will change the way I look at you. Nothing will change what you do to me when you’re next to me. You make my heart beat in a completely different way—nothing will ever change that.”

“I’m so embarrassed,” she cries into my chest as she slips her arms around me, clinging to me like she’s about to fall—maybe she is, but I need her to.

“God, babe.” I’m fighting my own tears so hard. “Please, don’t be.”

I strengthen my hold on her, and when I do, she falters with a whimper when she releases it.

“I was raped.”

Those words. I already knew it. I even saw her body afterwards. But hearing those words. I can’t take the pain and guilt any longer. It’s like a knife to my lungs, and I can barely breathe. I take a hard breath in when the tears slip out and fall.

I’m helpless. I don’t know what to say to her, but I knew that she had to tell me. To stop hiding it away, but what have I done to her? She’s broken in my arms right now, sobbing, and I don’t know what to do to help.

We sit, clinging to one another as we both cry. Time passes and she begins to tire, now softly weeping as I continue rocking her and planting kisses on top of her head.

“I’ve been lying to you,” she mutters quietly.

“I don’t care. It doesn’t matter.”

“I feel horrible.”

“Candace, don’t do this,” I tell her. “You have every right to lie.”

“I can’t go to see you at work because . . .”

“Shhh . . .” I want her to stop because she doesn’t need to apologize for shit. She shouldn’t feel bad for trying to cover this up. I get it. Understand it.

“Because it happened in your parking lot. By the dumpster,” she tells me, and I figure she simply needs to get it off her chest, so I don’t say anything. I just listen as she relieves herself of whatever guilt is weighing on her as she continues. “That’s why I freaked out. I didn’t know where I was until I saw the dumpster.”

Hearing her say this to me is hard. It’s hurts to think about her trying so hard to hide this from me and what that was doing to her. My breath catches, and when a small noise cracks, she pulls back to see my tears falling. Her face scrunches up as she begins to cry again.

“I’m so sorry,” she chokes out, and I’ve had enough of her apologizing for shit that doesn’t matter.

“Don’t ever fuckin’ say that again,” I tell her when I cradle her cheeks in my hand. “Don’t ever be sorry for anything again.”

“I’m just so far from what you thought.”

“You’re not.”

“I am. Every day is a struggle. Everything. I’m scared every day,” she admits as she drops her head from my hands.

I’ve always wanted to know what she was hiding, but I couldn’t have imagined this. And that she lives with this every day. Terrified. The fact that she has held herself together around me so well is shocking.

Candace finally looks back up at me, pained when she tells me, “I’m fading.” I shake my head at her, hardly able to stand the misery in her voice. “He took all my light, and I’ve been fading ever since.”

Giving her nothing but the core of my intentions, I tell her, “You’re not fading. I won’t let you.”

Her words beat at me. In disbelief because she’s brought so much to my life in such a short amount of time. The mere idea that she would see her life in such shambles that she would fear fading ignites a fight in me to do everything I can to pull her out of this darkness. To show her just how bright she is. How amazing and powerful she is. She’s nothing but heart, and I’m going to make sure she sees every bit of it. That there’s no way for her to fade in my eyes.

She tucks her head down and leans into me as I fold her securely in my arms, vowing to myself that I will do everything I can to show this girl how strong she really is.

“That’s why Kimber is mad,” she says as she continues to talk. “I didn’t go home after it happened. I stayed with Jase and never told her why. She knows I’m lying.”

I listen. That’s all she wants from me, so that’s what I give her.

“I’ve been taking sleeping pills, but I stopped last week. That’s why I haven’t been sleeping.” She pauses before revealing, “I dream about that night—about him. All I see are his eyes. He made me watch him.”

A new bout of sobs courses through her, and anger courses through me, but I keep my cool for her. I take myself out of this and focus on her when she adds, “So, I take pills to keep him away.”

“Babe, why did you stop taking them?”

“Because every night when I take them, it’s only a reminder of what happened. I just want to forget, but I can’t.”

“Have you told anyone?” I ask as I brush her hair behind her shoulder.

“No. Only Jase and Mark. Jase was with me in the hospital. Mark only knows because he walked in and saw my face. I was pretty banged up.”

“Your parents?”

“God, no. It was because of them that I went out with that guy at all.”

“You knew him?” I ask, not expecting that she knew the fucker. “But you didn’t do anything?”

“No.”

“I wanna fucking kill him,” I spit out, anger swelling inside of me. I swear to God, I’m gonna kill that piece of shit. My body tenses up, and I do everything I can to bring myself back down—for her. It takes a while, but I begin to focus on Candace and what she needs out of me. I know she’s afraid I’m gonna run, but she’s wrong.

Looking at her straight on, I assure her, “This changes nothing for me. Okay? Nothing. No one will ever love you like I do.” I kiss her. I feel it’s all I can do right now to show her that I’m here and I’m not leaving her. When I do finally drag my lips away, I give her more of me when I say, “You are the only reason there’s light in my life. Before you, there was nothing but darkness.”

As the tears linger on her cheeks, I lean in and kiss them, tasting the salt of her secret that’s been eating her up. But now it’s out there, and she doesn’t have to find ways to hide from me anymore. She trusts me enough to allow me to see the darkest side of her, and I love her for that.