Falling

49

The leaves litter the streets as I drive home in the rain. I’ve been on a job all afternoon after I was commissioned to photograph a model for a portfolio. The photography thing has really picked up for me, and I’ve been trying to get a few more of my newer pieces on display at a couple of galleries. The exposure has been great, and Candace is nothing but supportive, coming along with me to showings when she can.

She’s been so busy with rehearsals lately for her first performance run that will start in a few days. The transition into the company has been a challenge for her. Most of the girls up there have been there for years, skipping the college route to go straight into their dancing career. Candace told me that it’s not very common to go from a university to a company, but she did it mostly to appease her parents. It’s been very competitive and some of the dancers haven’t welcomed her into the program very easily, giving her a hard time at first, but my girl is determined and always keeps herself focused when she’s dancing. It isn’t until she comes home to me that she finally lets out her frustrations.

We’ve made a routine of having Jase and Mark over every Thursday night so that Jase and Candace can watch the new episodes of ‘Ridiculousness.’ I just have to laugh at the two of them and their taste for trash TV, but she redeems herself each time we camp out downstairs by the fireplace to watch our black and whites.

Candace is already home when I pull into the drive, and when I walk up the stairs to the front door, I spot one of my bowls sitting on the ground. Picking it up, I go inside and set it in the sink then head upstairs. I stop in my tracks the moment I catch sight of her. She’s securing felted green leaves around the bun on top of her head, wearing a puffy red strawberry costume with green tights.

“Baby, what’s this?” I question with a smirk while I enjoy the view.

Taking out the hairpin from between her teeth and sticking it in her hair, she stands proudly on display for me, saying, “My Halloween costume!”

She’s fuckin’ cute, and I smile as I step towards her and ask, “Where did you get this?”

“Marilyn, the seamstress at the studio. She made it for me.”

“I didn’t know we were dressing up.”

She looks down at her costume, running her hands down the fluffy red fabric and says, “I never do anything for Halloween, so I figured since we’re gonna be with the kids, I wanted to dress up.”

Wrapping my arms around the pillowy costume, I pull her close to me and kiss her. I love seeing her playful and happy like this. We decided to go to Astoria to take Tori and my other cousin, Jenna’s, kids trick-or-treating next week. I felt bad that I didn’t go last year, so I’m making it a point this year, and Candace is excited to tag along and see everyone. My whole family has embraced Candace, and hearing Bailey call her Aunt Ce-Ce every time we video chat means the world to her.

“So you like it?” she questions when she breaks our kiss.

“It’s adorable, babe.”

I kiss her dimple before she says, “I’m gonna go take it off. I just wanted to put it all on to see how it looks. Give me a few minutes.”

My eyes follow her green legs as she walks into the bathroom and shuts the door. Even after all this time, she’s still modest with me, always shutting herself away to change and get ready. It used to bother me, but now it’s just another thing I love about her. So I sit on the bed and wait for her to reappear, looking more sophisticated in a pair of black pants and a fitted sweater, hair still in a bun.

“You wanna go grab a coffee before our appointment?” I ask.

“Yeah. Can we go to Common Grounds? I haven’t seen Roxy in a while, and I’d like to stop in and say hi.”

“Of course,” I respond as I tug her onto the bed and pull her between my legs before kissing her. “Oh, hey,” I say when I pull back. “Why was there a bowl by the front door?”

“I put some food out for this cat I keep seeing.”

“Babe, if you do that, we’re gonna have a shitload of stray cats hanging around outside.”

“She looked sad. I just couldn’t let her starve,” she defends. “She doesn’t have tags or anything, and it’s cold and rainy outside. The least I could do was leave out some food.”

I laugh at her, but love her soft heart, so I don’t say anything else about it.

Kissing the top of her head, I tell her, “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

After we stop by and visit with Roxy for a while, we head over to Dr. Christman’s office for our appointment. We’ve continued to see her twice a month, and Candace has still been keeping her weekly appointments on top of what we do together. She’s been working hard and talking more to me about the rape and how she’s trying to process it. She still blames herself, but I can’t get down on her for that because I still blame myself as well.

She did come off of her sleeping pill back in the beginning of September, but a couple weeks ago, she had another terrifying nightmare and immediately started taking her pills again even though Dr. Christman wanted her to continue on without them. I understand Candace’s fear of her dreams. That nightmare freaked her out, and she wound up making herself sick, vomiting several times afterwards.

After seeing Jack at the bar, she was scared to come back there. I wound up telling her about the subpoena and going to see him. She was having a hard time believing that he was really dead, so I found out where he was buried and took her to show her that she didn’t have to be scared of him anymore—but she still is.

Candace has been busy ever since we got back in town from spending Halloween in Astoria with my cousins a couple weeks ago. It was a short trip, but Candace had fun with the kids, and I had fun watching my strawberry go door to door with Bailey, helping her fill her bag with candy. Candace even got some candy herself at a few houses that just assumed she was a kid. We all teased her about her size, and she took it like a champ, but she’s used to it from Mark. The two of them banter like brother and sister, and I’m starting to see that same connection building with her, Tori, and Trevor.

This past week has been crazy while Candace has been having costume fittings and dress rehearsals. But tonight is her first performance, and seeing her meddle around the loft, trying to keep her nerves in check, I think back to the last time—the only time—I saw her dance. I was alone, miserable, fearing I’d lost her for good. I watched her dance for the first time while I was hiding in the back of the theater, wishing I could have been with her, and now I am. This is the way it should have been the day of her performance in college, but I’m getting my moment now. And savoring every minute of it.

We ran out of bananas this morning, so she sent me out to grab a few since she worries about muscle cramps. When I get back from the store, a tiny white and tan cat greets me. No doubt, Candace’s little buddy, waiting for her next meal. I walk past it and let myself in.

“Your friend’s out front,” I say as I walk through the room and into the kitchen to set the bag of bananas down.

“Who?” she asks from the couch.

“That cat you keep feeding all of our food to.”

“Ryan, she doesn’t have a home. She’s been hanging around for a couple of weeks,” she says as I walk over to her and sit down.

“We can take her to the pound.”

“Oh my God! You’re crazy!” she squeals at me. “We’re not doing that.”

Looking over at her, I already know what she wants to do, but I ask anyway, hoping she’ll surprise me.

“So what do you suggest we do?”

In the most timid way possible, she suggests, “We could keep her.”

“I’m not inviting a feral cat into my home.”

Narrowing her eyes at me, she says, “You act like I’m asking you to invite a vampire in.”

As I laugh at her analogy, she defends, “And stop calling her a feral cat like she’s some Dickensian orphan.”

“Why do I have a feeling like this cat is going to become part of our family?”

She gets a huge grin on her face at the mere suggestion as I sit back and drape her legs over my lap. When she lies down, I ask, “You doing okay?”

She turns her head to stare out at the rain that’s now beating against the windows, and says, “I’ve never danced for a crowd this big before.”

“You’ll be fine,” I tell her as I start rubbing her calves.

“Hmm,” she softly hums with her eyes shut as I massage her legs.

“When I finally got to see you dance the night of your solo, I never thought you could look so beautiful. You were all I could see even when the stage was filled with other dancers. You stole every bit of my attention as if nothing else in the world existed but you.”

She looks up to my eyes when I tell her this, and then I say, “I know you work your ass off, but when I saw you on stage, it’s like you didn’t even have to try. That’s how I know you’ll be fine. You can’t help but be captivating, babe.”

Sitting up, she climbs into my lap, straddling my hips, and says, “I wanted you that day of my solo. I was a wreck, and I just wanted you there with me.”

Tangling my fingers into her hair, I tell her, “You have me now, babe.”

She leans down and kisses me, moving her lips slowly with mine while I tug her hips into me. Leaning my head back onto the couch, I guide her with my hands still trussed in her hair. I love the taste of her in my mouth, and we continue to make out for a while, just like this, before she drags herself off of me to get ready.

I spend a good amount of time sitting in bed while I watch her move around the room as she stretches and works her ankles, puts her hair up in her bun, and replaces the lamb’s wool in her toe shoes. She’s quiet, but flashes me a grin every now and then as I watch what I hope will become our routine. Tonight’s her first performance, but she’ll have two tomorrow and two on Sunday followed by a few throughout the week. This will last for the next three weeks, and I’m excited that I get to see her dance like this, performing for thousands of people every day. She’s a star in the darkness that hovers over us—she always has been.

I say goodbye to her early because she has to be at McCaw Theater hours before production, so when I arrive, Jase, Mark, Traci, and Max are already there and seated. Candace was able to get them all tickets for opening night, which is nearly a black-tie affair.

Tonight won’t be like the last time I saw her. With the company, she dances in what they call the corps de ballet, an ensemble of dancers that accompany the soloists. It could take a while for Candace to work her way up to being a soloist.

Dancing ‘Les Sylphides,’ my eyes stay locked on her throughout the whole night. She’s the only one I see as she moves gracefully around the stage. Just like before when I saw her dancing, she gives me goosebumps. She’s soft and stoic, taking each number with a focus that only she can make so effortless.

She loves this. It’s who she is, and to see her take this passion and turn her dreams into reality is an amazing thing. She’s known what she’s wanted to make of her dancing, and she did it. I’m in awe of her. To see her suffer through so much, yet never lose her way with her goals is a determination you don’t find all that often in people. But she has it.

I never thought a guy like me would be found at the ballet and actually enjoying it, but I like knowing that this is now a part of my life and that I get to watch my girl up on that stage throughout the year.

Once the curtain drops and the lights brighten, I visit with everyone for a while before saying goodnight. Candace told me to meet her in the dressing room afterwards, so as I walk out of the theater, I see the main lobby emptying out when my eyes catch a man with familiar silver hair walking towards me. As he approaches, I’m stunned to see it’s Candace’s father.

“Charles?”

He looks up and stops in his tracks when he recognizes me. I can tell that he can’t place my name.

“It’s Ryan,” I say, reminding him.

“Ryan. How are you?” he says as he reaches out his hand, but I don’t take it.

“What are you doing here?”

It takes him a moment, but when he lowers his hand, he shifts his weight, saying, “I came to see Candace.”

“Does she know you’re here?”

“No.”

When I slowly begin to shake my head at the man who is sneaking out because he’s too much of a coward to see his own daughter, he defends, “I love her.”

“You don’t know her.”

He doesn’t speak after I say this, and my need to protect her takes over when I continue, “I don’t know what it is about her that you aren’t able to accept or that you don’t think is good enough. I’ve tried to understand, but I can’t.” Taking a step closer, I pause for a second before saying, “I wish you could see the amazing girl that I do. The girl who has dreams that she’s able to make come true. The girl who loves harder than anyone I’ve ever known. She’s got a beautiful heart.”

“I know.”

“Do you know what you did to that heart when you turned your back on her?”

“I love my daughter,” he says. “But I love my wife too. I won’t stand here and make excuses for her. She has her faults, but in the end, I love her.”

“So where does that leave Candace? Because I’ll be honest with you, sir, I love that girl and seeing how the two of you hurt her is something that I would be willing to look past if it meant that you could repair things with her.”

Shoving his hands into his pants pockets, he turns his head to the doors before looking back at me and resolves, “I just wanted to see her dance. Maybe you shouldn’t tell her that you saw me,” and then walks out the doors.

I’ve never wanted to protect anyone the way I want to protect Candace, but I won’t ever hold anything back from her. As sick as it sounds, it’s probably best that her parents walked out of her life. This is a girl who apologizes for herself more than anyone I know because she feels she is always making a mistake simply by being herself. She’s someone who is so determined to succeed, but I know it’s stemmed from growing up with parents who never thought she was good enough and made it their goal to make sure she knew it. And when she opens the door to her dressing room and I see her big smile, full of life and satisfaction, I know she’s going to be better off without them.

“God, you’re amazing,” I tell her as I pick her up in my arms and hug her.

Her smile’s infectious and after I kiss her, she beams in excitement, “That was incredible.” Setting her down, she shuts the door behind me and asks, “What did you think?”

“I think you’re gonna be seeing me here a lot.”

“So you liked it?”

“There isn’t anything I don’t like about seeing you on that stage,” I tell her and then move in to cup her face in my hands. “Do you have any idea how proud I am of you?”

She kisses me and then tells me, “You’re the one that made me want to feel again. That helped bring me back to life.”

I could easily give those same words back to her because she did the same for me, only on a completely different scope, so I let her have those words. I love that we can give each other so much. That we can have the best of ourselves with each other. We continue to hug and kiss for a while longer, celebrating Candace’s opening night at the ballet in our quiet way.

She is already out of her costume, so I sit on the small couch as she powders her shoes and begins to pack up.

Spotting a vase full of pink roses, I ask, “Who are those from?”

She looks at the vase and then back to me, saying, “Your mom had those delivered before the show. She felt bad that she couldn’t be here.”

“Babe, I need to tell you something,” I say and then motion for her to come sit next to me, and when she does, I turn to her and take her hands in mine. I know she’ll be okay when I tell her about her father because she has such a solid support system in the people that choose to be a part of her life. “I saw your dad tonight.”

Seeing her eyes open up with hope, she asks, “He’s here?”

“He was,” I say gently. “I ran into him as he was leaving,” Her face falls when I tell her this.

“Didn’t he want to see me?”

Her head drops when I shake my head.

“What did he say?”

We’ve been nothing but transparent with each other, so I give her that respect when I say, “That he loves you, but he loves your mother too. He didn’t want me to tell you he was here, but I never want to keep anything from you again, and I need you to know that.”

The tears in her eyes are hard to look at as she sits here. “Don’t doubt for a second that you don’t have a family full of people that love and support you because you do. They might not be your blood, but they are your heart.”

She takes a second before she speaks on a soft breath, “So that’s it?” referring to her parents.

“I think so.”

Defeat washes over her as her shoulders slump.

“I know it hurts, babe, but I also know that you haven’t done a thing wrong here. It’s them, not you.”

“Can you just take me home?”

“Yeah,” I whisper and help her gather her things before I drive us home.

She’s quiet, and I hate that I had to dampen her night, but I swore to her that there would never being anything that I would withhold from her again.

It’s cold and rainy when I open the garage so we don’t get wet. Walking into the house, everything is dark and quiet until a faint, “Meow,” from outside filters in.

Cocking my head at Candace and giving her a knowing look, she knits her brows together, silently pleading with me.

“No.”

“Ryan, it’s freezing outside,” she says.

“We’re not bringing that stray cat in here.”

“You’re being mean. She’s a nice cat. I’ve never seen her be aggressive,” she defends.

Shaking my head at her, she pleads, “It’s pouring out there.”

Candace is giving me the most pitiful look, and knowing she’s already feeling defeated tonight, I give in and sigh out, “Fine.”

She tilts her head and questions, “Really?” for clarity.

“For tonight.”

She doesn’t waste a second when she runs to the front door and opens it, bending down and picking up the tiny cat who huddles in her arms. I smile at her as she coos and starts walking over to me.

“I’m gonna give her a bath.”

“What?! No, you’re not. The cat is gonna sleep in the garage,” I tell her.

“She’s filthy.”

“You do know cats hate water, right?” I say, but she ignores me as she starts walking back to the guest bedroom.

Not trusting this animal in the slightest, I follow her back and proceed to help her grab towels and run a little water in the tub. This cat is terrified as shit, so I take it out of her hands and hold it while it squeals and writhes in fear as Candace washes her. But it’s when she begins thrashing in my hands that she slips out of my hold, jumping out of the tub and tears through the house, no sound but her claws clicking against the wooden floors.

“Fuck!”

Chasing after her, all I hear is Candace laughing, still in the bathroom.

“Help me find her!” I call out while I make my way upstairs.

I follow the dreadful meows to the bedroom and find her under the bed. Getting on my knees, I peek my head under, and see her curled against the wall in the middle of the bed.

“Come here,” I say in a singsong voice, mocking my liking for her. Giving the floor a couple light taps, I call again, “Come here,” when I see Candace’s head poke down from the other side, giggling.

“This shit isn’t funny,” I tell her.

She rolls her eyes at me, and then calls to the cat, but she still doesn’t budge. “Great,” she huffs out. “You’ve scared her.”

“What?”

“She knows you don’t like her.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” I say as we continue to go back and forth with our heads underneath the bed. “You’re the one that tortured this thing because you just had to give it a bath.”

“I didn’t torture her,” she argues.

Tapping the floor a few more times, the cat slowly inches to me, and I can’t help but look over to Candace with a victorious grin as I reach out and pick up the cat.

When we reemerge from underneath the bed and get up, cat in my arms, she stands, hands on hips, miffed.

We manage to get the cat dried off, and after everything is cleaned up, we head to bed. Lying there together, Candace stares at the cat that is sleeping down by our feet, purring softly.

“She’s so cute.”

“You’re so cute,” I tell her, and when she looks at me, she smiles.

“I bet she was the runt of the litter,” she says. “She’s so small.”

“Hmm,” I hum as I pull her closer to me.

“I wanna keep her.”

“I knew this was coming.”

“What?” she questions when she tilts her head up to me. “You can’t tell me that you don’t think Tatiana is adorable.”

Laughing, I question, “What did you just call her?”

“Tatiana.”

“I’m not calling her that,” I say firmly, refusing to call the cat a name like that.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s way too girly.”

Candace laughs at me when she says, “Well . . . she is a girl, Ryan.”

“She’s a cat,” I say. “And where did you get Tatiana from?”

“She’s a famous ballerina that I’ve always loved. I like the name.”

“What’s her last name? Maybe it’ll sound better than Tatiana.”

Candace answers through her giggles, “Riabouchinska.”

“What the hell is that?”

“She’s Russian.”

Sliding down in the bed to face her, I kiss her lips before saying, “I’ll call her Ana.”

She gives me a sweet grin, asking, “So we can keep her?”

“No. She can stay here until we can figure out what we’re gonna do with her. But we’re taking her to the vet as soon as we wake up to get her checked out before we bring her back here.”

I kiss her again, slowly, lingering against her soft lips when she begins to mumble, “I’m glad I had this with you.”

When I pull back, she adds, “Everything about today . . . I’m glad it was all with you.”

Rolling on top of her, I spend a great deal of time letting her know, in my own way, how much I love her as I thoroughly kiss her.