Falling

47

“She’s living with you?” Max questions before laughing and saying, “This from the guy who once gave me shit for Traci moving in with me.”

“Go ahead, man. Get your laughs in, but I don’t give a shit.”

“I know you don’t,” he says. “I’m really happy for you. I was getting tired of your broody side.”

Packing up my things, I let out a chuckle when I say, “Me too.”

“You guys should come over. I know Traci would like the company. She’s going a little crazy being at home every day.”

“Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll talk to Candace and call you. I gotta run though. She signed all of her contracts today with that ballet company, and I wanna be there when she gets home,” I tell him as I start heading out.

“See ya.”

When I get back to the loft, Candace’s car is already there, and when I walk in, she’s finishing up a phone call. I don’t wait as I go to her and pull her in for a hug, lifting her off the floor.

“Okay, thanks. I’ll see you then,” she says and then hangs up before kissing me.

“How did everything go?” I ask when I set her down.

“Good. I start tomorrow.”

“That soon?”

Smiling at me, she says, “Yeah. Auditions for the first performance run are in August.”

“You’re gonna have to explain how all this works, babe, because I don’t know the first thing about what your job is going to look like.”

We walk over to take a seat in the living room, and I reach out to set her on my lap as she explains, “Okay, so basically a season runs from September to June. I’ll have typical rehearsals throughout the week with about five to seven performance runs that I’ll have to audition for. Performance runs are around two weeks long with matinees and evening shows. Normally they have a two-month run around the holidays, but they cast two dancers for each role to divide up the schedule. So I’ll have some time off for Christmas, hopefully.”

“You seem excited.”

“I am, but I’m mostly nervous. Most of these girls have done their apprenticeships up there and already know each other. I’m the only one coming from a university,” she tells me.

“You’ll be fine,” I assure her. “I’m so happy for you, babe.”

I kiss her dimple when she smiles, and then ask, “Who were you talking to when I came in?”

“Oh,” she says as she sits up, looking a little flustered. “Um, that was Dr. Christman, my therapist. I needed to get back on her schedule. But . . . umm . . .”

“What is it?” I ask when she starts hesitating.

“Well, I told her what happened with the whole New York thing and moving in with you. She suggested that maybe you could come in with me for my next appointment, but you can say no,” she says timidly, avoiding my eyes.

“Why would I say no?” I question. I’ve never done the whole therapy thing, but for her, I’d do anything.

“Because it’s . . .”

“Embarrassing,” I answer for her.

“I know you’re sick of hearing that, but I can’t help it.”

“I’m not sick of hearing it, babe. I get it. You just tell me when, and I’ll be there,” I say, trying not to make too big of a deal about it for her.

Switching the subject, she tells me, “I invited Kimber to come over Friday night.”

“Jase and Mark coming over too?”

“Yeah, if that’s okay? I should have asked first.”

“This is your home, Candace. You don’t need to ask me if you want to have your friends over. It’s fine,” I tell her. “Max invited us over to hang out as well.”

“What about Gavin?” she asks out of the blue.

“What do you mean?”

“You still talk to him?”

“I haven’t seen him in a while. I think that friendship is dead. We’re just on totally different wavelengths,” I explain.

“When did that happen?”

“When he kept trying to sling chicks at me when all I wanted was you,” I tell her as I run my fingers through her hair.

She looks uncomfortable when her only response is, “Oh,” and knowing her so well, I go ahead and answer her unspoken question.

“No. I couldn’t even bear to look at another girl. You were all I ever wanted even when I didn’t have you.”

She runs her hands along my jaw before she kisses me with an affection that only she can show. Slipping my hand under her knees, I cradle her in my arms as I carry her upstairs and lay her down in our bed. We move at a leisurely pace as we remove our clothes, feeling the need to connect with each other in this way. She normally keeps herself tucked against me, bodies close, when we make love, but to see her now, completely relaxed underneath me as I move inside of her, it’s stunning. Her hair splayed around her face, her arms draped above her head, she’s completely exposed to me as I move up to my knees and watch her.

Seeing her this comfortable with me, a level of comfort I’d yet to experience with her, is something I wasn’t expecting. She’s beautiful as I reach down and grab on to her hips, lifting them off of the bed and completely flush against me as I move deeper inside of her. She has her whole body bared to me, and I can’t help but stare down at her and admire how perfect we look together like this. It’s overwhelming, and when she grips my wrists and thrusts up to me, I let myself fall on top of her as we both come. Her hands never let go of my wrists, as if she needs them there for support as we both continue to move, greedy to prolong our release.

She holds my hand as we walk into the dimly lit office of her therapist and take a seat on the small leather couch. Pulling her hand onto my lap, I can tell she’s nervous. Shit, I am too. I have no idea what to expect or what this lady plans on talking to us about.

“It’s good to see you again,” Dr. Christman says to Candace and then turns to me to introduce herself before saying, “It’s nice to finally meet you. Candace has filled me in on a lot already about the two of you, but I wanted to take this time to not only talk with you, Ryan, but to hear from both of you together. First, Candace, tell me what happened.”

“With New York?”

“Yes. Last we spoke, you were excited and happy to be moving on and starting something new. What changed?”

Her grip tightens on my hand as she adjusts herself, bringing her legs up onto the couch and folding them in front of her. I watch her as she begins to speak with Dr. Christman.

“I don’t think anything really changed. I was sitting at the gate, about to board the plane, and all I could feel was sadness and regret. I was scared, but I realized that everything I was so scared about wasn’t the fresh start, but what I was leaving behind. It was like I was trying so hard to focus on my dream of New York that I completely shut out my dream of Ryan. Like I was trying to switch one for the other. Somewhere along the way my dream of New York changed, but I never allowed myself to see it until I was about to leave.”

It’s a little strange for me to hear Candace being so open. I’m not used to her speaking so freely, so I’m taken aback by her candidness.

“So what did you do?”

“I left the airport,” she tells her. “I felt like my world was spinning out of control, but in a good way. As soon as I got to his place and saw him, it was like all the happiness I lost when I lost him came rushing back. I just knew this was the choice I was supposed to make.”

Dr. Christman turns to me, and says, “I bet that came as a shock to you.”

“You have no idea,” I tell her with a chuckle.

“So, Ryan, Candace and I have spent a lot of time talking about your relationship and how the two of you came to split. Have you had a chance to explain to her the reasoning behind why you withheld who you were?”

“I feel like I have. I mean, I hope I have. We spent a few hours talking the other day, unraveling all the questions we each had.”

She looks over at Candace and asks, “Do you feel you got everything you needed from that conversation?”

“I think so,” she says in a shaky voice, and when I turn to look at her, she’s wiping her fingers under her eyes.

“Tell me why you’re crying,” she asks Candace.

“Because it was hard to hear. I’ve gone nearly a whole year without having to talk about what happened. And listening to him tell me what he saw that night . . . it’s just hard to hear and to know that he saw me like that.”

“Ryan, I’m curious. When you realized Candace was the girl you had seen that night, how did you deal with that?”

I wrap my arm around Candace while she dries her tears with a tissue and answer, “As soon as I knew, I wanted to tell her, but I didn’t know how. Then I started thinking that if I did tell her, how much it would hurt her. She was in a really dark place at the time, and I was scared she would break. She hid a lot, but I always knew she was barely holding on. But it fucked with my head—a lot. I get these flashbacks. It used to only be of my childhood. I see something or whatever and my mind takes me back. But ever since that night she was attacked . . . it keeps playing back in my head.”

“What do you normally do when that happens?”

“Nothing. I eventually just snap out of it. But it kills me that I have that in my head,” I say before I turn to see Candace staring at me in disbelief with what I just said.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her.

“Were you aware that he has these flashbacks, Candace?”

“No,” she answers and then asks me, “So that’s how you see me?”

“No. I denied you were that girl for so long. I fell in love with everything I had in front of me. But when I found out you were that girl, the visions were just so conflicting because I don’t see you like that at all. I know it’s you, but I still don’t want it to be.”

She’s crying now, and I take her other hand in mine when I affirm, “That is not what I see when I look at you.”

“I don’t want that in your head,” she chokes out.

“I don’t either, babe. But these aren’t our choices, and I’ve told you before that I love you regardless.”

“It makes me feel disgusting.”

She takes a moment to settle her tears and take in a few deep breaths when Dr. Christman asks me, “What’s the biggest thing you feel you struggle with about Candace’s attack?”

Letting out a sigh, I tell her, “That I let her down.”

“How so?”

“I was inside and heard the commotion in the alley. I ignored it, figuring it was just people passing through, which happens occasionally. If I had gone out there, then maybe none of this would have happened.”

She sits back in her seat as she looks at Candace and asks, “Is it okay if I share some of the things we’ve discussed in our previous sessions?”

“Of course.”

Focusing back on me, she says, “One of the issues I’ve been working on with Candace is her feeling of blame. She believes that her behavior led to her attack, and she continues to hold herself responsible.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Do you see the parallel here?”

Looking at Candace, I see what Dr. Christman is trying to point out, something I guess I never really saw before. I’ve always thought it was crazy that she could think she was to blame, but in turn, she probably feels the same way about my thoughts.

“Yeah,” I answer.

“Neither one of you are to blame, yet both of you are holding yourselves responsible,” she says. “Did you know he felt this way?” she asks Candace.

I watch as she nods her head, saying, “Yes.”

“Just as Candace and I have been discussing, there’s no way you could have known what was going to happen that night, so you can’t hold yourself responsible for that.”

She says this, I get it, but I can’t accept it . . . not right now.

“Well, I want to be mindful of our time together, so I’d like to focus on Candace, simply because she’s the one who I have been working with. But going forward in your relationship, it’s important that you’re there to help support her as she continues to process and heal. Being aware of her triggers and knowing ways you can help her cope and push her are key.”

“I know that she shuts down and avoids. I like to get it out and talk, but it’s a challenge to get her to open up. I notice she’s been more willing since we’ve been back together this past week, but . . .” I let my words fall, but she picks them up when she says, “It’s very typical of trauma victims to shut down. Candace has expressed to me that when she opens herself up to emotions, she panics and feels like they’re going to flood her, and the loss of control is scary.”

I look to Candace and ask, “But what do you think is going to happen?”

She shakes her head before turning to Dr. Christman, and when she blinks, tears fall.

“Babe, I need you to tell me because I don’t understand.”

“Can you tell me why you can’t answer him?” she asks Candace.

She shakes her head as I move my hand to her back.

“Go ahead and take a moment, but I want you to tell Ryan what you have told me whenever you’re ready.”

I feel like we sit here forever in the silence when she eventually turns to me and takes a deep breath before revealing, “It feels like I’m losing control and that I won’t be able to handle it.”

When I shake my head, still unsure, she tells me, “In the moment . . . it feels like I’m going to die.”

I can barely handle her words and to know that this is how she feels. I pull her into my arms, thinking back to all the times she’s been so scared. The day she saw that dumpster, her nightmares, our fight, and so many other things.

As I keep her folded into me, Dr. Christman says, “I’ve been asking Candace to try and put herself in situations that will generally trigger these emotions but in a place where she feels safe. Trying to help her cope with living inside the emotions, feeling them and not shutting down. Understanding that even though it’s scary, the emotions will eventually lessen, and she’ll be okay. I think it’s important for you to understand how she’s feeling during these episodes so that you can help push her through them, but to also be aware of her limits. Also, encouraging her to talk about her attack will help lessen the power it has over her.”

I give her a nod of acknowledgement as Candace pulls away and sits back.

We talk a little while longer about how I can help Candace and discuss some goals as we move forward. Before we leave, we agree I will come in with Candace twice a month, but the rest of her visits will remain focused on her.

I was proud of Candace before, knowing she was doing this, but to actually sit next to her and listen to her makes me realize how much strength it must have taken her to do this on her own. Honestly, I don’t think she would have ever done this if it weren’t for us being apart. She had to do it alone and for herself. And just from that one session, I learned things about her that I never knew before. It helped me understand her in a way I wouldn’t have been capable of on my own.

Instead of going back to the loft, we decide to take the rest of the afternoon to relax, and we head to Fremont to grab some coffee at Peet’s before roaming around some of the antique shops. We don’t talk about what was said. Although it seems Candace is feeling needy with me, I let her be. She never takes her hand out of mine as we drift aimlessly in and out of the different shops, simply enjoying each other.