The Fading Trilogy: Fading, Freeing, Falling: Includes 2 BONUS short stories

by E. K. Blair

  Being alone in the house all day is driving me crazy, so I decide to head over to Jase's even though his flight doesn't get in for another two hours. The quiet is just a reminder of how much I miss my roommate. It's almost as if I live alone because we hardly ever interact anymore. I do know that she will be coming back today, I just don't know when. Before this year, we were like sisters. Even though I never really went out with her and her other friends, we always made time for each other and would constantly call and text each other. Now—nothing.

  When I get to Jase's apartment, I go lie down in his room. It has been a couple weeks since I have slept here, so his bed is a welcome comfort. I think it will always be a comfort to me. I still have trouble sleeping alone in my bed. Even with the sleeping pills, my nights are restless and filled with night terrors, and I often have flashes of that night when I close my eyes. The flashes aren't nearly as bad as the nightmares, but they are still a constant reminder of the turmoil in my life.

  My new friendship with Ryan is not something I expected. Then again, that's what's got me so confused. How can I be so closed off to the world around me, yet feel comfortable with this new person? The fact that he has become good friends with Mark and Jase eases my mind, but the past few days have me questioning a lot.

  I jump off the bed when I hear Jase walk through the door. I practically knock him over when I run into his arms. I didn't realize how much I missed him until now.

  "I am so glad you're back."

  "Everything okay?"

  Letting go of him, I smile and say, "Yeah, I just missed you." I take his arm and pull him toward the couch as I say, "I am dying to know everything about your trip. Where's Mark by the way?"

  "He just dropped me off. He has an early morning tomorrow, so he needed to go home, unpack, and get laundry done," he says while we sit on the couch.

  "Sooo...?" I say and Jase just smiles at me. Nudging him in the arm, I demand, "Come on! Tell me. How was it?"

  "Great, actually. His family is nothing like our families."

  "Thank God for that," I tease.

  "We had a great time. His parents were so accepting of me, which made me comfortable from the moment I arrived. His sisters are a little crazy. We went out with the two of them one night, and they got totally shit-faced, so Mark and I had to sneak their loud asses into the house so they wouldn't wake up his parents. It felt like high school." Jase laughs, and he seems genuinely happy.

  "They sound great. I am so happy for you, even though I missed you."

  "I missed you too."

  "So, it seems you and Mark are pretty serious now."

  "I really love him. I was a dick before and thought I had screwed everything up, but I'm glad he gave me another chance. He's pretty perfect for me."

  I can't help but smile when I hear Jase talk like this. He has been through a lot to get to this level of happiness.

  "Well, for what it's worth, I really love Mark too. He's been a good friend to me, and he has never questioned our friendship, which means a lot to me. He totally gets us," I say.

  "I know. He really does, and that makes me love him even more."

  I lean in and give him another tight hug and then he asks, "So tell me about your break? How did Thanksgiving go?"

  Leaning back, I sigh. "It didn't. I left before the food came to the table."

  "What happened?"

  "Honestly, it was pretty bad," I say, and I continue to tell him all about the fight and what was said. He shakes his head, but I know he isn't shocked. He has gotten to know a lot about my relationship with my parents over the past three years.

  "So has your dad called you?"

  "No, which worries me. He always calls to try and brush everything under the rug."

  "So, you've just been laying low then?" he asks.

  I fidget when he asks, and he picks up on it immediately when he questions curiously, "What's going on? Why are you nervous?"

  "Not nervous...confused really."

  "Tell me."

  "I actually spent the past couple of days with Ryan."

  "Alone?"

  I nod my head, and he looks a bit stunned when he asks, "How did that happen?"

  "I guess he got my cell number from Mark, and he texted me. We wound up spending all of Friday together and then some of yesterday as well."

  "What'd you guys do?"

  "We grabbed breakfast, then we went to the aquarium, but I kinda freaked when I left to go home."

  "What happened?"

  "We were alone in his car, and I was telling him about the fight with my parents, and when he reached over to hold my hand, I panicked."

  Jase turns his body to face me when I continue. "He had held my hand earlier, but it was different. We were at the aquarium, and he was trying to get me to touch the sea creatures at the touch pool, but the way he held my hand in the car was just...I don't know. Anyway, I acted like a maniac. I couldn't get out his car fast enough. I just left without really saying anything."

  "What did he do?"

  "Nothing. He didn't say anything. But I was really shaken and cried the whole drive home."

  "Because he touched you?" he questions.

  "I mean...I felt panicky when it happened, but I think I was more upset because I felt that way. Am I making any sense?"

  "Yeah. I just don't like that you beat yourself up for having feelings," he says, and he takes my hand in the both of his.

  "I hate that there are these random moments that come out of the blue, and I can't hold myself together. But that isn't the worst of it."

  "What?"

  "He surprised me at my house last night after I had taken my sleeping pill. We ate dinner and were watching a movie, and the next thing I knew, I was waking up with my head in his lap. I totally freaked, Jase."

  "What did Ryan do?"

  "He just apologized, then I apologized, and then we had this weird moment when he was leaving. I just don't know what to think."

  Shaking his head in confusion, Jase asks, "Let me get this straight, so he comes over and you let him stay with you...alone?"

  "I know, but he actually made it comfortable for me. I mean, we had a fun night, but before he left, he brushed some hair out of my face. I know this may sound stupid, but it felt extremely tender, and now I'm confused because he's my friend."

  "Are you confused because he's your friend, or are you confused because it feels wrong?"

  Jase is still holding my hand, and I lean the side of my head on the couch. Sighing, I say, "I know you don't understand, but it doesn't feel right. It just doesn't feel right to be having any feelings like this."

  "So, you like him?" he quietly asks me.

  Whispering back in hesitation, I say, "I don't know." I close my eyes and sit there for a moment. My thoughts are all over the place, and when I open my eyes back up, a few tears fall. "I just can't be feeling like this."

  "Why not, sweetie? I mean, if Ryan makes you feel safe enough to be alone with him, why is it so wrong to feel something for him, if for only that?"

  "Because...he can't even touch me without me constantly freezing up and being scared. I feel so pathetic and weak, and I hate it. I hate that I feel like this—every day. I try so hard, Jase." I feel myself cracking as I cry and continue to say, "Every day I do everything I can just to hold myself together, and when I think I'm finally getting past this, something happens, and I am reminded just how weak I am. And I don't know what to do. I just wish I knew what to do, but I don't." Jase pulls me into his arms as I cry harder, and he just holds me. "I just want to move on, I want to feel like I used to. I mean, it's been three months of hell. I just want to go back. I should have never gone to that party. All I want is to forget. Just forget everything."

  "Three months isn't enough, sweetie. It's just not enough. No amount of time will ever be enough for you to forget, for you to go back completely." Jase pulls back to look at me, and I can't stop myself from apologizing. Shaking his head at me, he gives me a smile, and sud
denly I feel a little stupid for my tears. I know he is trying to cheer me up and lighten the mood when he teases me by saying, "So, Ryan has a thing for my girl."

  "Shut up," I tease back.

  "Seriously though, I want to see you happy. And if hanging out with Ryan makes you feel good, then you shouldn't question it. Don't stand in the way of your own happiness."

  Cupping my face with his hands, he gives me a kiss. Hopping off the couch, he pulls me up and starts walking to his room.

  "What are you doing?" I ask.

  "Sleeping. I'm so tired, and I've missed you."

  "But I've got an early class tomorrow."

  Jase starts getting ready for bed when he says, "Skip."

  I stand there and laugh at him, but I comply because I've missed him too.

  This week has gone by really fast. I did wind up skipping my morning classes on Monday to spend time with Jase instead. Aside from that, I have been really busy with the quarter coming to an end shortly. Ryan has been texting me throughout the week, and we went running again Thursday morning. We decided to make it a routine to run together on Thursday mornings before I go to school.

  Yesterday, he had some free time before he had to go to the bar, so we met up for an early dinner at a sushi-go-round restaurant near my house. While we were eating, we made plans to go running again when I get off work today. So, I am quickly finishing up my end-of-shift routine so I can change before he gets here.

  It's been a busy morning today, and I haven't had much time to stand around and think, which is good because I feel like I have been thinking too much lately. Jase told me to relax a bit, and that's what I am trying to do. I'm texting and hanging out with Ryan the way I would with any friend. But I'd be lying if I said that there wasn't something about him that intrigues me. Lately, I've been having that fluttering feeling in my stomach when he's around. I haven't had a relationship with a guy since high school, and I'm not sure that one even qualified.

  I don't feel right even thinking about this. How can I? Plus, who would even want me if they even knew who I really was? I'm still a mess, and that damn bell above the front door reminds me of it every time someone opens it.

  Jase brought up calling the detective the other day. He has never mentioned it before, but he said he never wanted to because he knew I wasn't ready. I'm not sure why he thinks I'm ready now. I'm not. I don't want to be. All I want is to lock that horrific memory up and burn it to ashes, not be forced to relive it over and over for others to hear. I told Jase to drop it, told him it would never happen, so he didn't say another word about it.

  "Hey Roxy, I'm gonna go to the back to restock a few things before I leave, okay?"

  "Yeah, thanks," she says over the hissing of the steamer.

  I grab a box cutter and start opening boxes of flavored syrups and stocking the shelves. When I move on to the sugar boxes, I see Roxy come through the door with a huge smile on her face.

  "So, that hot-ass guy is back and asking for you."

  Sitting on the floor, surrounded by scraps of cardboard boxes, I say, "His name is Ryan."

  "Well then, that hot-ass guy, Ryan, is here for you," she says teasingly with her hands on her hips.

  "Thanks. Can you tell him to give me ten minutes?"

  "You guys have a date or something?"

  Standing up, I say, "What? No! He's just a friend."

  "Mmm hmm." Roxy turns on her heel to walk back out to the front, and I pick up my bag and go to the bathroom to change into my running clothes.

  When I walk out, Ryan is chatting with Roxy. He looks up at me as I'm walking over to him and says, "Hey."

  "What are you guys talking about?"

  "Your friend, Ryan, was asking about my tattoos." I silently thank her for leaving out the hot-ass part.

  Ryan takes a step towards me and asks, "You ready?"

  "Yeah, I just need to put my bag in my car."

  Reaching out, he takes the bag out of my hand and starts walking to my car. I say 'bye' to Roxy as I follow him out.

  I zip my keys up in the pocket of my running jacket, and we take off for our run from the parking lot. We head around the perimeter of campus before making our way through a few neighborhoods. I am mostly quiet as I listen to Ryan talk about work and the new bands that have been playing there during the week. Turns out that we pretty much have the same taste in music, and I find his reaction funny each time he discovers I like another one of his favorite bands.

  We start making our way through some streets we haven't gone down before. I follow him and keep my pace by his side. My throat is beginning to dry out when I realize that neither of us brought any water, and I know we've already run at least three miles. I am more quiet than normal, and I'm sure Ryan notices when he turns his head and asks, "You okay?"

  "I'm thirsty. We forgot water."

  "No worries," he says as he picks up the pace, and we turn down another unfamiliar street.

  I don't have time to question him when he slows down and starts walking up a driveway to a three-story building.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Getting you some water. Come on," he says while nodding his head toward the building.

  I walk a few steps behind him, and he pulls out a key fob from his pocket. When he clicks the button, the garage begins to open.

  "Do you own this building or something?" I ask.

  Ryan turns back to look at me and grins. "This is my loft. I live here."

  "Oh," I mumble, but I stop following him, not really wanting to go into his home. I try hard to control the anxiety that begin to race through me. I have been spending a lot of time with him and feel like he is trustworthy, but I can't seem to shake my nerves right now.

  He motions for me to come, and I don't want him to think I'm some sort of basket case, so I swallow back my apprehension and follow him into the garage to the staircase leading up to the loft.

  When we reach the top of the stairs, he unlocks the door, and we head inside to the large open space. The main room is completely open with a large kitchen along the back wall of exposed brick. The finishes in the kitchen are industrial and sleek, and two of the walls are lined with floor to ceiling windows. There are exposed beams on the ceiling, and the wooden floors are a rich wide-planked espresso. I wonder how he came to own a place like this; the square footage alone would cost a fortune.

  "Here you go," he says as he walks back to me and hands me a bottle of water.

  I take a sip and say, "This is a great place. How long have you lived here?"

  "About five years."

  He pulls his cell phone out of his jacket when it begins to ring. I can tell it's something about work when he starts talking. Telling the person on the other end to hang on, he puts the phone down to his side and tells me, "Make yourself comfortable. I need to take this call really quick. I'll only be a few minutes, okay?"

  I nod my head, and he walks down the hall and into one of the rooms. I stand there in the middle of his house, not sure what to do. As I drink my water, I make my way over to Ryan's living room. It's filled with overstuffed furniture and a TV that is mounted to the wall above a large fireplace. I walk over to one of the windows near the corner of the room. I accidentally kick a stack of books, and when I bend down to straighten them back up, I see several large black photo mats. Leaning down, I flip one over and look at the beautiful black and white photograph that is a close-up of the curve of a woman's bare back. The lighting of the photo is exquisite.

  I kneel down to flip through the others when I hear him walk back into the room. Before I can stand up he is at my side. I look up at him and say, "I'm sorry." Setting the photos back where they were, I stand up and he asks, "For what?"

  "I wasn't snooping or anything, I just noticed these and was curious."

  "Candace, I have nothing to hide. I told you to make yourself comfortable, and I meant it." He steps aside, sits down in one of the large, overstuffed chairs, and takes a swig of his water.

  "Where d
id you get those?" I ask, referring to the photos.

  "They're mine," he says.

  "Yours?"

  "Yeah. Sometimes I get bored and like to mess around with my camera," he says casually.

  "That's pretty amazing for just messing around. You only shoot people?"

  "For the most part, yeah," he says as he gets up from his seat and walks over to me by the window. He picks up the picture of the woman's back and looks at it as if he hasn't seen it in a long time.

  "She a model?" I ask about the woman in the photo.

  "No, just some chick I used to know." He sets down the photo and walks to the couch while motioning for me to join him.

  I walk over, sit down next to him, and ask, "So, when did you get into photography?"

  "When I was in college I took some art classes. So, one day I just decided to buy a camera and started taking pictures. Like I said, I pretty much have no clue what I'm doing. Just a little hobby of mine I mess around with every now and then."

  "You ever do anything with them?"

  "No."

  "Maybe you should," I say, and he turns to look at me and repeats my words back to me quietly, "Maybe I should."

  "You sure you don't want to come out to the bar tonight to see Mark play?" he asks.

  "I told you, I have to work."

  "I just picked you up from work."

  "I know, but I have to go back. One of the girls quit and Roxy hasn't hired anyone to replace her, so I've been picking up extra shifts," I explain. "Plus, I'd probably be tired and no fun to be around."

  "I can't imagine it not being fun to be around you," he says as he looks at me intently, and I begin to feel uncomfortable with his words. "You ready to finish the run?"

  A smile crosses his face when he stands up and reaches out his hand to me. I sit there for a beat before I hesitantly place my hand in his. When I do, he gives me a slight tug and pulls me off the couch. He never lets go of my hand as he locks up and we walk down the stairs and out to the driveway. This closeness has my nerves twisted up, and I'm sure he can feel sweat on my hand. As we walk out to the street, hands still connected, he asks, "Wanna make it a long run, or are you ready to head back?"