Cassandra: And they all fall down

by Julie Hodgson

  “Stop it!” she giggled. “I was upset.”

  “Well, did it help?” he asked.

  Cassandra thought for a moment. “No.”

  “You don’t look upset anymore.”

  He was right. She wasn’t upset anymore. She was laughing for the first time all day.

  “Maybe this was meant to happen,” he said. “You believe in that? In the world bending itself around us to bring people together?”

  “You should speak to Bindi. She loves all that hippy stuff. She’d love you.”

  “I’m serious. If you hadn’t had the argument then you wouldn’t have gone running, you wouldn’t have called me to get you, and I wouldn’t have the opportunity to spend this time with you.”

  “I guess.” She thought for a moment and then said, “Were you busy tonight? Saturday night and all.”

  “I … er …”

  “It’s alright. I understand if you were on a date or something,” she said, although his appearance told a different story.

  He fleetingly took his eyes off the road to smile at her and said, “Family Guy boxset and a pizza.”

  “Family Guy?”

  “You like it?”

  It was her favorite show. “So a hot date with Peter and Stewie then.”

  He laughed. “Something like that. Everything’s a bit of a mess at our place right now, boxes everywhere. I guess it’ll take a while to settle down.”

  Cassandra was transfixed by the way he held the steering wheel. He had a loose, relaxed grip on it and the wheel just glided through his fingers when he turned the corner. He wore a simple, black signet ring and a chunky diving watch. She could have watched those hands taking her home all night.

  “Do you have any brothers or sisters?” she asked.

  “No, an only child. You?”

  “No, me too.”

  “I wish I did. It would be cool to have a little brother to mess about with or a little sister to protect.”

  “Not a big brother or sister?”

  “No way. That would be a real pain in the ass. My buddies are forever complaining about their big brothers beating up on them, giving them wedgies, stealing their stuff.”

  “I think I would have quite liked a big sister, someone to look out for me and tell me what’s around the next corner.”

  “Don’t be fooled,” Braydon smiled. “I’ve heard big sisters are even worse, even crueler than big brothers and better at getting away with it.”

  “So you’d like to be the big brother, stomping down on the little ones?”

  “Ha, no, I’d be different. I’d give them advice and make sure none of the bigger kids did anything to them.”

  “Sure. And I bet you’d never argue or try getting them in trouble.”

  “Of course not.”

  “You’re such a saint, Braydon Taylor.”

  Braydon didn’t answer for a moment. He was smiling as if he had been let in on a joke she didn’t understand.

  “What?”

  “No, it’s nothing.”

  “What?”

  “No, it’s just hearing you say my name like that. It just …”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know.” Although he didn’t know, it didn’t stop him from smiling wider still. “How are you feeling now?” he asked.

  “Okay. Good, I think. Thank you so much for the ride. I don’t know what I would have done.”

  “That’s okay, but what made you call me?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “See,” he smiled, taking the entrance to the freeway, “it was always meant to be.”

  “Well, fate is one explanation, but none of my friends have their own cars, and my parents would have hit the roof.”

  Braydon considered this for a moment. “No, I definitely think it was fate.”

  A little less than an hour later they were outside Cassandra’s house with the 11.00 p.m. curfew intact. Braydon pulled up outside and shut off the engine. Not a moment had passed on the way home when they hadn’t laughed and chatted, and now it looked as if neither of them wanted the ride to end.

  “Well,” Cassandra finally said, “thanks again. You saved my ass.”

  “That means you’re forever indebted to me,” he smiled.

  Face to face for the first time since they had got in the car, Cassandra was able to see those captivating eyes once again, eyes that she could curl up and fall asleep in.

  “Okaaaay! If you ever run all the way to the city and drop with exhaustion, I’ll come get you.”

  “You’ll have to do better than that,” Braydon smiled.

  “Okay, name it.”

  “Let me take you to iCandy on Wednesday night. I think I’ve earned a date now.”

  Cassandra didn’t even need to think about it. “What time you picking me up?”

  “I’m home!” Cassandra called out as she walked through the door.

  “In here, love,” Dad answered, and Cassandra found them both cuddled up in front of the TV watching a movie. She dropped herself onto the armchair, with a head full of nothing but Braydon Taylor. Everything else had dropped away – her hands, the pills, the race, running, arguing with her mother and Bindi. Life felt perfect.

  Mom sat up and looked closely at her daughter. “You look like the cat that got the cream,” she said. There was no trace of any kind of animosity between the two of them and for once she didn’t look concerned or uptight when she looked at her daughter.

  “It’s just been a good day, that’s all.”

  “You can’t come in with a smile that big and then not tell me where you got it,” Ellen told her. “John, I think we need some drinks,” she added.

  John reached out to pause the film then looked at the two women in his life and slunk out of the room. It wasn’t the first or last time he would have to leave the room to let them talk about girly things.

  “I just wanted to say,” Mom said before Cassandra could tell her anything. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I just worry about you. I’m really pleased to see you looking so much better.”

  Cassandra looked down at her hands and said quietly, “I think you’re right, though, Mom. It can’t hurt to go see Dr. Somner.”

  “Good. Okay. But only if you want to.”

  “I do.”

  “Good. I’ll make an appointment for next week. Right now, tell me. Who is he?”

  “Erm …” Cassandra was about to say his name, but then she realized that Braydon Taylor would be at the bottom of her mom’s list of potential suitors. Apparently, he was at the bottom of everyone’s list. “Just a guy from school,” she said.

  “Does he have a name or shall we call him ‘a guy’ all the time?”

  “Well, that’s his name. Guy.” Cassandra worried that her inept lie would make her mom suspicious, but she seemed to be buying it. “He’s asked me out on Wednesday. Is it okay if I go? He’s really nice, Mom. You’d love him. And we’re only going to iCandy, and I’ll be back by nine.”

  “Does he drive?”

  “Yup!”

  This seemed to concern Ellen. “How old is he?”

  “Same age as me. Well, he’s sixteen already. Oh, Mom, when you met Dad did you, you know, did you know he was the one for you?”

  “When I met your father he was slumped over in a bush throwing up his lunch, so no, it wasn’t love at first sight.” Cassandra had heard the story many times. They met in senior year at college, and she thought he was drunk, but he some bad chicken. Anyway, they got together somehow and stayed together ever since.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Cass, honey, when you know you know, but it’s not a bad thing to kiss a few frogs before finding your prince. I was twenty-one when I met your dad.”

  “Twenty-one!” she had known they were college seniors, but putting an age to it made them sound so old. They were six years older than she was, an absolute lifetime away.

  “That’s right.”

  “Were you in love before Dad?
”

  Ellen smiled a smile that told of secrets. “Yes,” she answered. “I had my heart broken more times than I care to remember. I wouldn’t change any of it now, but if I could go back and talk to myself at sixteen I would tell me to chill out and be patient. There’s enough time to get into all that.”

  “Would you have listened?” Cassandra asked, and this made her mother’s smile widen even further.

  “No, probably not. Just be careful, okay.”

  “Okay, Mom.” Without warning, Cassandra moved in and gave her mother a tight hug.

  “What was that for?”

  “Just because I love you.”

  Then Dad returned with three hot chocolates, and the girls smiled conspiratorially at each other.

  “It’s okay. I don’t want to know,” Dad sighed and started the movie again.

  “Did you eat?” Ellen asked.

  “I’m pretty hungry actually.”

  “I put you a plate of chicken in the microwave just in case.”

  Cassandra had never been more grateful. She grabbed the plate, ate it cold with her hot chocolate, and watched the rest of the movie with her parents. She still felt stiff and exhausted from her run, but she could feel her body recovering and, more importantly, things were back to normal with her mom. Everything was on the up.

  Chapter Eight

  Cassandra spent most of the following day hanging out in her room. She didn’t quite spend it in bed because she didn’t want her mom and dad to think she was unwell, but she didn’t move far from the bed all day, wrapped up in her blanket, and only left the room when she really had to. Not surprisingly, the impact of running for a whole day was considerable, and although she didn’t want to waste the weekend and would have preferred to be out doing something fun, she didn’t have a choice in the matter. Her legs had solidified and rooted themselves to the ground like ancient tree trunks. Her stomach muscles ached as if she had spent the day doubled over, coughing, and her arms were the arms of a broken weightlifter. Her limit for the day was holding the TV remote in one hand and her cellphone in the other. In addition to the physical discomfort, her body also insisted on sinking her into periods of worry, flipping her tummy over and over. Firstly, she was worried about her friendship with Bindi, but her fears were quickly alleviated with an exchange of messages.

  Hey, Bindi. You there?

  There was a pause before Bindi started typing and then she wrote, Hey Cass.

  Look, I’m so sorry about yesterday. I think I’m a bit floopy right now.

  Is that a medical term?

  You know what I mean. I’m falling out with everyone. I think it might be because of the tablets. It’s been over a week now, and I’m feeling kinda weird.

  It’s cool, Cass. I understand.

  So they were friends again, but Bindi’s next question represented the source of the remainder of Cassandra’s anxiety.

  So are you going back to the quack?

  Cassandra had told her mom she wanted to go back to see Dr. Somner and now she regretted it. She had been weak and tired when she said it. She had just run halfway across the state and was delirious. She would never volunteer to see him. He was such a drag. And what would she tell him? She couldn’t tell him about her hands. It was nothing to do with the ADD anyway. Kids with ADD didn’t have greeny-black slimy threads coming out of their hands. The itching had never been part of his diagnosis anyway. So, what could she tell him? That she felt so full of … what? So full of something – just something – that she didn’t know what to do with herself. She would never be able to explain it. It was definitely what had made her snap at her mom and at Bindi, and then it had powered her to run yesterday. Maybe it was adrenaline or some kind of hormone. She could at least tell him that, although it wasn’t the worst feeling in the world. She had run to the point of exhaustion yesterday, but she had never had such an exhilarating experience than being able to run for that length of time and at that speed. At one point, it was easy to believe she was flying. She had experienced that feeling on the track for seconds at a time, but to live and breathe it for an entire day was out of this world. But she didn’t want to fall out with people. She didn’t really want to be any different to anybody else so she would speak to him. But then, what if he told her to start taking the tablets again? This had been her life since she was tiny – daily tablets and regular visits to see him for general prodding, poking and Twenty Questions. She couldn’t go back to that. And if she did, would her hands start itching again? For the first time in her life, she was free of the irritation. She could concentrate without the permanent distraction of the drawing pins under her skin. No, she couldn’t go back to that.

  Yeah, she told Bindi. Mom’s gonna make an appointment in the next few days. Might get off American History again.

  Lucky you. Rather get out of Literature, though. Can’t get my head around Twelfth Night. I don’t know why we have to study Shakespeare anyway. We’re not English or living in the 1600s.

  You still think Mac’s hot, though, right.

  In answer to that question, Bindi simply splattered a ton of hot-hot-hot emojis onto the screen.

  I’ll take that as a yes.

  Cassandra was about to write more when a new message popped up.

  Guess what?

  It was Leo. She thought for a moment then wrote, Justin Bieber just drove into Garden City and wants you for a sunbeam?

  Get real. You, dad, has more sex appeal than Bieber. Guess again.

  My dad wants you for a sunbeam?

  Gross! Well, it’s like this. I just told Thomas to go to hell, and I’m asking Mr. Yummy Braydon Gorgeous Taylor out TONIGHT.

  Now it was Cassandra’s turn to take slightly longer to write a reply than she meant to. Suspiciously longer, as if it affected her personally in some way, but she knew Leo wouldn’t notice. Is he gay?

  What does that matter?

  I think it matters a bit.

  Everyone’s gay, Cass. The sooner you realize it, the better.

  I’m not.

  Everyone but you then.

  Bindi’s not.

  Everyone but you and Bindi. Look, I’m talking about guys here.

  My dad's not.

  He was last night. *smiley face*

  Cute. Look, I just don’t want you to get hurt, Leo. Thomas is really good for you. He almost keeps you sane.

  Who wants to be sane when you can have hot-hot-hot Braydon Taylor.

  Now Cassandra had a choice. Should she tell him she was going on a date with Braydon or let Braydon be the bad guy? She had no worries about Leo making a fool of himself. He was hot property in school. He also flitted from crush to crush, madly in love with one guy before dropping him like a bum note for an even cuter guy. He would have his heart broken for five minutes, and then all would be well in the world. No, she would let Braydon let him down and maybe he would go back to Thomas. If she told him she was dating Braydon, it would be a different story. This would be a betrayal, and the consequences would go on and on and on. She would tell him about dating Braydon only if she needed to, which she knew she eventually would.

  Let me know how you get on, she told him and then slipped her cell onto her bedside table and found herself staring aimlessly at the ceiling. Before she knew it, she had drifted off to sleep.

  When Cassandra woke up, it was dark. It had been mid-afternoon when she dozed off, and it was definitely night time now. She hadn’t moved a muscle while she had slept and opened her eyes to the same view of the ceiling, only now it was black with only a thin slither of light shining in from the streetlamps outside her window. It was a sight she had seen before, but now it was strangely captivating, almost as if it was the light of an altogether new quality and color. And this new quality and color was something that she could not only see, but smell, hear and even taste. She lay there looking at it, or rather experiencing it would be a better description, before eventually being able to draw herself away from it. Her body felt much better after the
sleep. All traces of heavy tiredness had left her, and she could feel something of the force that had driven her to run returning. She didn’t feel compelled to burst out of the room and take to the streets this time; it manifested in a slightly different way while it remained obvious it was a force of the same nature, the same flavor, presenting itself in a different guise. It felt as if the hair on her head had been removed, the scalp had been peeled back and the skull casing lifted so there was no barrier at all between the world and her experience of it. It was a feeling she had never experienced before, a type of alert that was impossible, a kind of presence in the world that made no sense, but it was exactly how she felt. Nothing looked the same as it had before she went to sleep. The colors were brighter, and she could feel them inside of her rather than simply seeing them. The contours of her room were so sharp that she was fearful of moving, whereas the plump cushions of her armchair were nothing less than the clouds from the heavens itself. She closed her eyes, and it was all still there, swirling inside of her with one magnificent sense that had absorbed her power to taste and smell. It was the past, the present, and the future; it was darkness and light; it was always and never; it was her and not her. Most of all, it was totally overwhelming, and Cassandra wanted to cry or scream, but nothing would come out. She gripped her head in her hands and moved from side to side to shake the reality back into it, but the movement itself was too much to bear, so she sat up again and tried to calm herself, tried to breathe deeply, but each breath was a cyclone in her ears. Everything was magnified by hundreds of percent. The aroma of weeks and weeks of cooked meals, all on top of the other, turning her stomach so forcefully she might never eat again. A coppery, metallic tang on her tongue that was seeping into her bloodstream and glowing around her whole body; scurrying under the floorboards and in the attic – tiny creatures that were inaudible to human ears; And then even more faintly, the sound of air itself, simply existing around her. She held her hands to her ears and closed her eyes, but found no peace. When she opened them, there was something new. She didn’t know which of her senses was experiencing at first, maybe all of them. It was crying. She could feel the emotion of it inside of her, but they weren’t her tears. She could definitely hear it faintly in the distance, and her senses of smell and taste were also warping to accommodate it.