by Daisy Allen
I run back into the bathroom, pulling on the pants and hoodie I’d taken off to shower and run back to the elevator.
She can’t have gone far. It’s barely been a few minutes. She can’t have gone far. She can’t have, I repeat to myself.
As soon as the elevator hits the ground floor I hurl myself out of it, running to the front entrance.
“Patrick! Patrick!” I call out to the night doorman. He comes over to me, tipping his hat. “Did you... did you see a woman come out here just a few minutes ago? Brown hair, very pretty...”
“Oh yes, Mr, Ashley, she just left. In that taxi over there,” he points to a cab turning the corner. “Poor girl, I hope she’s okay.”
“What- what do you mean?”
“Oh, well, when she came down she was crying and she looked like she was in a bit of pain.”
“What? What happened?”
“I don’t know, sir, I just saw her grab her side, and when she pulled her hand away, she was bleeding. Not a lot but not a little either, you know?”
Fuck, no. I’m dizzy at the thought that I’m the reason something’s happened to her. Probably aggravated her wound from the mugging.
“Where is she going? Do you know, did she say?”
“Just that she was going to the hospital.”
“Which one? Did she say?”
“No, sir. I’m sorry”
I barely let him get the last word out before I run in the direction of the cab, I turn the corner, but it’s gone. The taxi’s gone.
And so is she.
***
“I don’t care if you have to call every hospital in the five boroughs. Fucking find her, Xavier!”
I hang up and fling the phone across the room, hearing it land on the couch with a thud and falling to the floor.
I walk over and pick it up, checking for cracks, before placing it on the coffee table.
Ring, dammit, ring, I beg of my phone, willing it to be her. Telling me she’s okay, telling me she forgives me.
She’s been gone just over an hour and already I feel like there’s a vacuum in this place. She made this place hers in the one day she was here, and now that she’s gone, it’s emptied of air, of life.
I flip open my laptop and rewind the security footage of her watching me in the bathroom. I don’t know what I’m looking for, but I know what I don’t want to see. Fear. Disgust. Pity. Horror.
I pause on the moment she must’ve seen the scars and zoom in on her face. Her eyes are wide, her mouth slightly open. But there’s no fear, no disgust; there’s surprise, but nothing else.
I run the tape again, from the moment she discovers my secret.
I was wrong.
There is something else, something in her eyes as she watches me. Something soft and tender. Understanding. Empathy.
I watch it again. And again.
No. It must be there. The repulsion, the look of horror. It must be. I’ve seen it so many times. On so many faces. Of people who were supposed to love me and of strangers on the street. On children’s innocent expressions and from adults who should know better.
But it’s not there.
Fuck.
What’ve I done?
The phone rings and I jump at the sound. It’s Xavier.
“What?”
“She’s not at Lenox Hill.”
“Then keep calling.”
“I will, it’s just...”
“What?”
“Woah, don’t bite my head off, I’m just trying to help.”
“Sorry.”
“Convincing.”
“I’ve had a really long fucking day, don’t give me this cry baby shit.”
“Yeah, I heard about your long day.”
“Has Henry been talking?”
“No.”
“Who, then?”
“From the donkey’s mouth itself.”
“Jacob called you?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. And that makes me uneasy. His premise was that he was worried about you. About your binge drinking. But of course I know better.”
“Do you think he has anything to do with the stolen prototype?”
“I’d be more surprised to find out that he’s not involved, but I don’t have any proof either way.”
“Yeah, let’s get Dylan on him,” I refer to my private investigator.
“Okay, I will. But... back to the matter at hand. Maybe... maybe her leaving is a good thing. It’s not like your life has been smooth sailing since you met her.”
“Stop.”
“I’m just saying, you’re not sleeping, you’re grumpy as fuck... you’re drinking? Come on man, when’s the last time you drank that much.”
“I’m telling you... stop.”
“Kaine.”
“Xave.”
There’s a pause. And I’ve known him long enough to know what he’s thinking and I don’t want to hear it.
“Okay. Okay, I’ll let it go. I’m just saying, is this the best time for you to be in this kind of head space?”
“Find her. Call me when you have.”
***
The call doesn’t come. After another sleepless night, I know what I have to do.
“To the New York Genealogy Library please, Henry. And about last night, I’m sorry.”
“Yes, sir.”
The traffic in Manhattan is unusually brutal this morning. My leg jiggles in the back of the car as I watch us move forward one slow inch at a time. I try to distract myself with work, but the numbers look like wingding characters, making no sense. I scroll through my emails and don’t bother to open any. I fiddle with the Band-Aids on my hand, I should’ve changed them out for clean ones, but I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to throw away my link to her. The memory of her face when she was putting the Band-Aids on me, checking my wound, making sure I was okay.
I can’t remember the last time I allowed someone to do that for me.
I’d had enough of people taking care of me after the accident.
There’s a car horn and I notice the reason for the jam. We drive past the car accident and the bottle neck eases. I look out the window counting the streets until my destination, practicing the words I’m going to say. The apology.
As soon as Henry pulls up out the front of the library, I jump out of the car, looking around but she’s not there. Out of nowhere, though, a mob descends. It’s the same damn people from the other day, that had surrounded Jade, almost suffocating her.
“It’s him! It’s the hooded hero who saved Jade Sinclair!” They yell as they envelope me, crowding around me. I push them out the way, not caring if I hurt them. They deserve it for hurting her.
“Take off your hoodie! What’s your name!” Their assault is relentless.
I push my way through them, and take cover in the building. There’s a sign pointing to the back entrance and I make my way out there, just to gather my thoughts.
I push the door open with my back, pivoting on my heel as I step outside.
“Oh!” A woman cries out as I feel my whole body bang up against her.
I reach out and grab her with my hands before she falls from the force of my body. Then I notice, it’s her.
“Jade!”
She shakes her arms, trying to get away from me.
“Wait! Jade! Are you okay?” I say, even as she tries to push past me. I block her with my body and she just stands there, not meeting my eyes. “Hey,” I say, softer this time, in case in my excitement to see her, I’d frightened her. “I heard you were bleeding last night. Was it your stitches, are you okay now?”
“Go away, Kaine.” He voice is cold and flat, like I’ve never heard it before.
“Jade. I’m sorry. I was... I was just surprised.”
“Whatever. I’m late for work.”
“Jade, please.” I take a risk and reach out, my finger tipping her chin up to make her eyes meet mine.
What I see makes me want to pull her into
my arms.
Her eyes are circled by dark patches, her skin pale and green. Like she’s gotten no sleep. There’s no light in her eyes, the way they’d been last night, when she’d teased me. When she’d cooked for me, when she’d seen me... all of me.
She turns her face away from me and walks over to a wooden bench in the alley.
I follow, sitting down silently next to her. I take a deep breath and say the words I’d been practicing since last night.
“I’m sorry. I over-reacted. I- I didn’t expect to see you there.”
“It’s fine. I wasn’t snooping, I was just grabbing my clothes.”
I nod. Though a part of me almost wishes she’d been curious enough about me to want to snoop. “I know. I just... well, now you know.” I gesture to the side of my face.
She keeps her gaze down at her hands, they’re wringing each other, white knuckled. “Yes. Now I know. And now I have to go to work.”
This isn’t her. Did I do this, turn her cold like this? “Wait. Are you okay? You look... you look tired.”
“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”
“Don’t you think it’s a little late for that now?” I ask her, the desperation in my own voice startling me.
“You know what? We don’t owe each other anything anymore, Kaine. Mr. Ashley,” she says, and the distant way she refers to me want to scratch at my ears. “Thank you for saving me. But I can take care of myself now. Good bye.”
She stands up, but then seems reluctant to take another step forward, her eyes glaze over, as if in a trance.
“Jade.” I call out to her, hoping to jar her out of it.
She doesn’t respond.
And then I know. It’s this place This is where she was attacked. What is she even doing here?
I push myself up from the bench and come up behind her.
“Why are you here? This... can’t be easy for you.”
“It’s not. But I can’t go through the front door either,” she says with a shrug.
“I know.”
“Ironic thing is, I’ve found you now. And I’ve thanked you. But they still won’t leave me alone.”
“I can make them.” I’ll do anything for you.
“No, I told you. You don’t ever have to do anything for me anymore. Goodbye, Kaine.”
She says her last words, staring straight ahead as she walks past the wall where she was attacked, and into the building.
I follow her but as I reach the door, I hear a click.
It’s locked.
She really did mean for it to be goodbye.
What’ve I done? What have I fucking done?
I watch through the door as she walks away, never turning back.
I make my way back through the side alley to the front entrance, punching my hand through the row of trash cans as I go, leaving them dented and lying on their sides, littering the narrow walkway with empty bottles and day-old newspaper.
Chapter Twenty-One
HER
Don’t turn around. Don’t turn around. Just keep walking straight ahead. Don’t turn around. As many times as I repeat it to myself, it’s not until I reach my office that I know I can do it. As soon as I get to my desk, I sink into the chair, throwing my bags onto the desk, bracing my hands on the stacks of papers piled high. They tremble, giving away the shake of my hands.
It had taken everything I had to walk away from Kaine. After a sleepless night of replaying his reaction to me seeing him the shower, I’d decided that the Kaine chapter of my life was over. It was a shock to run into him, but I’d spent the last eight hours telling myself to push him out of my mind. Whatever it was I thought I’d felt last night was just a result of the strangeness of our circumstances. Of course, I was going to harbor strong feelings for him, he’d been there for me in the most critical moment in my life. But that’s all it was. Gratitude borne from trauma. He obviously felt nothing but annoyance when it came to me, so I was going to give him what he wanted. Me, gone.
“Yay! You’re here!” Harriet says, as she steps into the office a few seconds later. She comes over to me and her expression immediately changes.
“Oh, honey. Are you alright? You look like shit,” she tells me, honestly.
“Er, thanks,” is all I can muster as a reply.
I don’t know what has affected me more, trying to avoid the mob, being back in the place I was attacked... or him.
Harriet kneels down in front of me, taking one of my hands in hers. “Hey,” she says, her voice soft, her eyes searching mine, concerned. “No, really, you don’t look so good. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I just, I popped a few stitches last night.”
“What?” She jumps up to her feet.
“It’s fiiiine. It happens.”
“No. Something made it happen.”
“I... was, I was just in a bit of a rush to get out of ... there.”
“Superman’s apartment?”
“His name is Kaine and... yes.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t really want to talk about it.”
“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not in the business of doing what you want.”
I sigh and she pushes her chair over to mine. She plops herself down and gives me a look that tells me neither of us are going anywhere until I talk.
“Ugh. Fine. Bossy britches.”
“I’m not a bitch!”
“I said, bossy britches!”
“Oh, yeah, okay, that I am. Go ahead.”
“So, he came home.”
She jumps out of her chair and onto her feet again, “What?”
“Yeah, you’re going to want to stop doing that every time I tell you something surprising, because... it’ll be quite the aerobic workout.”
She sits back down again, her eyes still as wide as plates.
“He came home. Late, mind you. My poor pork chops,” I sigh.
“Excuse me?”
“I made pork chops! He was supposed to come home at 7 p.m. to eat them. And he was late and they were ruined.”
“Oh my god. When did you marry him?”
“I’m sorry?”
“You sound like an old, married, nagging wife!”
“Well, now I’m calling you a bitch!” I glare at her and she just laughs in response. “Anyway! He comes home and...um, catchesmeinhisbed.”
“Wha? Slow down.”
“Ugh, he caught me sleeping in his bed.”
“Dude. Did he get in with you?”
“HARRIET!”
“What? You don’t like sexy, mysterious, lifesaving, hero billionaires?”
“No,” I narrow my eyes at her. “Not this one, anyway. He’s an ass.”
“Ah, so what happened that had you poppin’ stitches to get out of there?”
“I, er, I caught him. In the shower.”
“How do you ‘catch’ someone in the shower exactly?”
“I went in to grab some clothes I had hanging up and, well, he was in the shower... showering. And he caught me. Staring.”
“Oh, Jade. Jadey Jade Jade Jade.”
“Oh shush, it’s NOT what you think! I wasn’t... perving on him.” Well, not just that.
She raises her eyebrows and I realize if I don’t explain, I won’t ever hear the end of it.
“Okay, ugh, this is in the strictest of confidence, okay?”
“Dude, opening the library vault and putting it in there.”
I take a deep breath and hope I’m doing the right thing, sharing with her.
“He, well, he was naked...”
“Hubba Hubba!”
“Shush.... he was naked, meaning... no hoodie.”
“Ah. OH!”
“Yeah. He, um, he has a pretty big scar running down the left side of his face. It looks like a burn. A really, really bad burn.”
“Oh my God.”
“Yeah.”
“Wow, you think he’s embarrassed by it?”
“I can’t think of any othe
r reason.”
“Poor Superman.”
“It’s mystery man!”
“I wonder what happened to him. Oh wait, you said he caught you?”
“Yeah. I made a noise and he saw me staring. And he, well, in no uncertain terms told me to get the fuck out. And he never wanted to see me again. So, I grabbed my stuff and ran. And that’s probably when I stitch-popped.”
“Oh, honey. Are you okay?” Despite the excitement of the story, she’s still genuinely concerned about me.
“Yeah, I just went to a clinic and he stitched me up and I went home. It wasn’t a big deal.”
“You should’ve called me, I would have come to pick you up.”
“I know. I was fine, I just... needed to be on my own for a while. I’ll come stay with you tonight if you want.”
“Of course I want.”
“Well, I guess that’s that, then. End of the mystery man saga,” she sighs, almost sadly, and starts to push herself and her chair back to her desk.
“Actually...” I start to say and Harriet spins back around in her chair, “I banged into him this morning. Outside.”
“WHAT?!” And again, she’s on her feet.
“He, er, he was waiting for me, outside. Out back.”
“What for?”
“Apparently, to apologize,” I shrug. The truth is, I still don’t know what to make of it.
“Did you accept?”
“I said I understood. But the truth is, it IS over. It was fun while it lasted, all the mystery and stuff, but, he obviously wants to be left alone. So, yeah, I told him, he didn’t owe me anything, and we said our goodbyes.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah.”
“And you already miss him.”
“What? I do not!”
“Oh, really, is that why, when I came in you looked like Juliet after Romeo ran away?”
“Firstly, for someone who works in a library you sure are unwell-read. Romeo didn’t run away, he was banished. And secondly, I’m not a 14-year-old star-crossed lover. I’m a 28-year-old, cranky and injured, genealogist. There’s nothing Juliet Capulet about me. And now, I’d like to get back to work.”
“Fine,” she huffs.
“Fine,” I huff back.
We both turn to our work and it’s quiet, for a minute. But it’s clear neither of us are really thinking about work, so it’s no surprise to me when she speaks up again. “It’s just... him coming today means something. That he would make that effort, when really, he’d gotten rid of you. And I think it’d do you both good to find out what that is.”