He stood still and quiet, his countenance crumbling all over again. “I better go,” he said. He stepped toward me, tracing his thumb across my bottom lip. “Pick you up tomorrow?” he asked, though he didn’t sound convicted.
I nodded, staring up at him, sure that my pleading eyes betrayed my desperation. Robbie gave me a soft peck on the forehead and turned around.
“Wait!” I said, giving in to the sinking in my stomach. “Is…is something wrong? You’ve been quiet all day. I don’t want you to leave…like this.”
He studied me for a long minute, allowing the Kansas winds to sweep in between us. His brows softened as he forgot whatever it was that was bothering him, whoever was on the other end of those texts. “Well, I guess staying tonight couldn’t hurt.”
That didn’t make me feel any better. Couldn’t hurt? What did that mean? Couldn’t hurt what? I decided to let it go since he was almost back to normal. But once inside, a few more of those damned texts, and all was silent again. I could tell he was doing his best to stay present, but some anchor had ahold of him, and it looked heavy. We tried a game of Star Wars Monopoly, but neither of our hearts could get into it and we quit before our first roll.
“I know,” I said, as upbeat as I could manage. “Let’s watch a movie. Something fun.” Before he could answer, I rushed over to the family DVD collection, scanning the covers for something funny. We settled for Ace Ventura: Pet Detective. A classic. You just couldn’t go wrong with Jim Carrey—he could make anyone laugh. And it worked. By the end of the night, Robbie seemed like his old self again.
In the middle of the night, I woke up sweating in Robbie’s arms. He didn’t wake, but I felt his arm squeeze me. It was an instant comfort and I was asleep in his arms again in moments.
Morning brought rain, cold and hard. Robbie rolled his bike into my garage and we took my car to work. The ride was a pregnant quiet, though Robbie held my hand. I could feel our connection, however burdened it was. We parked and walked across the lot, passing the Philips, picketing in raincoats. They were dedicated, that much was true.
Robbie walked me to my cubicle and pecked me on the forehead. I booted my computer and headed to the break room. No one was in there, so I brewed a cup of tea and went back to my desk. Just as I donned my headset, Carrie rushed in at the last minute. At lunch, I finally cornered her in the break room. We were the only two in there.
“Nothing,” she said at my questions. “Just…be careful. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
I studied her, wondering if she was referring to Robbie or the motorcycle. Something told me it wasn’t the bike. Oliver interrupted us before I could interrogate further. “Ladies,” he said, plopping into a seat. He looked around, then at me. “Where’s Robbie? You two are Siamese twins anymore.”
“Said he couldn’t make lunch.”
“What?” he said. “How is that possible? He can’t go anywhere else. You guys fighting already?”
“We’re not fighting.”
“Lil early for that, don’t you think?”
“They’re not fighting,” Carrie chimed in. But it was too late. My stomach was already in knots.
After work, I waited for Robbie in my car. The sky looked like it was trying to clear up, but the storm was an obvious threat. Robbie had texted and said he’d meet me here, which worried me when we could easily have walked out together. I could see him slugging across the parking lot, head down, as if heading somewhere he didn’t want to go. My stomach churned, just as it had with his absence at lunch.
He reached the car without meeting my gaze and slid into the passenger seat. Even this pale and lifeless, his face was still the most beautiful image. But the green that once lived in his eyes was now entirely replaced by morbid gray. Those eyes refused me.
“How was your day?” he asked, his voice morose. The dashboard held his gaze.
“Good, yours?” I croaked, trying—and failing miserably—to sound positive.
“Okay.”
My car purred, clueless about all of it, as she carried us out of the parking lot. The air had a thick, intense humidity, pierced only by Robbie’s silence—the unending, all-encompassing silence that had staked its claim between us. The silence of vacant words and things left unsaid. It was the silence that had woken me last night in Robbie’s arms, the same silence that etched a hole in my chest today. And I couldn’t stand it any longer.
“Something’s going on, Robbie! What is it? Don’t tell me it’s nothing, ’cause I can feel it. I’m not stupid—”
“I know you’re not stupid,” Robbie interrupted.
“Then tell me what’s going on. Please keep the communication open. I can help with whatever you’re going through.”
“Not now. I’ll tell you later.” His icy voice burned, and a heavy anchor sank to the pit of my stomach. I knew. It was the reason he’d canceled lunch today. The reason he hadn’t wanted to stay last night. The reason he couldn’t look at me. I snatched a glimpse of his expression—as frozen as his icy voice. He didn’t want to experience my reaction. He wanted to be a coward and tell me in a text. Guess he wasn’t as bold and brave as I thought he was. But I was driving.
I slammed the brakes and turned into the almost-vacant parking lot of some church. I wasn’t sure which one; they were like Starbucks around here, one on every corner. I parked in the back, away from other cars. Robbie sighed, obviously agitated. He didn’t look at me.
“You’re leaving, aren’t you?”
He sighed again. “Yes, I’m sorry,” he said, quick and matter-of-fact, his eyes still on the dash.
I held my breath for a long moment. The sky darkened, still just drizzling on us. The downpour hadn’t started yet.
“Why?” I demanded. “What did I do?”
“You didn’t do anything.” His voice melted into his familiar honey and he finally looked at me. “It’s all me. I realized I made a mistake.”
“A mistake? Is it…her?” I asked. As though I had any right. I was the other woman, not her, I reminded myself—even though they’d broken up.
“I don’t know,” he said, and there it was, laid out before us both.
My heart dropped to the floor of my stomach and shattered. I blinked, trying to turn back the ensuing flood, but I couldn’t stop it. Air was suddenly hard to come by. Robbie’s image blurred. I turned away, trying desperately to remain composed. But my body refused to obey. I could feel him studying me, concern etched in his forehead. Outside, the sprinkle turned to downpour, plunking on the roof like BBs.
“Don’t look at me.”
The car rocked as Robbie shifted in his seat. Inhaling slowly, I tried to change my focus. He loved me. I knew he did. Why would he deny it? Why now? I faced Robbie. He remained silent and stiff. Whatever glimpse of life I had seen in him this morning—that last little piece of light—had vanished. He wasn’t Robbie. Not the Robbie I knew. My chin quivered, but I was determined to remain collected. Calm. Cool. I could do this. Yet the car seemed to be floating, carrying me into another reality. Nothing was stable.
“I realized that I do love her, after all,” Robbie said in a mechanical tone, as if rehearsed. “I was confused,” he said. His glare returned to the windshield.
“Confused?” I asked. “Everything you told me, that…I’m your candy…were those lines?” Alice’s voice replayed in my ear. Rose-colored glasses…things aren’t always what they appear.
“No, they were not lines. I just realized I have to stay with her. It was wrong…what we did…what I did….” That didn’t sound like him. It was as if someone else was talking.
Why wouldn’t he look at me when he sliced my chest open? I turned away, trying to concentrate on the raindrops pelleting the roof. “I don’t believe you,” I said, mostly to myself, wiping the streams from my cheek.
I forced myself to look at his perfect face again. Still, he refused me. “You can’t turn it off just like that,” I continued. “There’s something you’re not telling me. If you need time, I underst
and. I mean, you just ended a long relationship.” That sounded reasonable in my head.
He said, “Don’t wait for me. I’ve made up my mind. I’m sorry.” Still so remote. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”
Of course not. Anger pierced my chest. It was hot, like burning needles scorching my skin from the inside.
“I didn’t plan this.”
“I feel so…stupid.” It was all I could say. That was exactly what I was feeling.
“Please don’t feel stupid. I don’t want you to feel that way.” His voice was velvet again. I wanted to hold him. And choke him.
“I don’t understand.”
“I was confused.” Another recorded message. Who was its author? This was not him.
“Yeah, you said that. Is that all you can tell me?”
“Candace. You did nothing wrong. I’m the jerk. And I want you to tell everybody that. Blame it all on me. I’m sorry I hurt you.”
Really? It’s not you it’s me? How young and naïve did Robbie think I was? Was that all I was to him? Some girl he had to get rid of? Just another dating experience? The other girl?
“I don’t believe that. You’re making a mistake now,” I insisted. “This is the mistake you’re making.” It was true. He was denying our connection.
“You know I don’t believe in that fairy-tale stuff.” He fidgeted with his lunch bag, then looked out the window, irritation written all over his face. Still, I held him captive. He wiped his cheek.
“Robbie,” I pleaded. “I don’t want to live without you.”
“I know you love me,” he said. “You are too good for me. You deserve someone who deserves to be your prince.” A bitter undertone gripped his words. He wiped his eyes again. “I…won’t bother you at work. It’ll be like it was before we met. To make it easy for you.”
I rolled my eyes. Robbie was not the self-loathing type, something I’d always loved about him. I couldn’t hear any more of his bull.
“I’ll take you home. You can get your bike later, when the storm’s gone.” Then I realized something and it almost put me in tears all over again. “I don’t know where you live.”
“Go to the abandoned church,” he said. Our secret place. “I’ll walk from there.”
In the rain? I wanted to ask, but I didn’t. Fine, he didn’t want me to know where he lived, and I didn’t want to care. Let him walk in the rain. Neither of us spoke again.
Chapter 12
FOR A FLEETING moment, pain couldn’t touch me. It was in that moment between sleep and awake, where dreaming still existed, where reality held no ground, and Robbie still loved me. Robbie! Reality had a cruel way of reminding me of things I had no interest in remembering. I rolled over in my bed and yesterday crushed me like a fist squeezing an empty can.
Yesterday…it couldn’t have happened. It didn’t make any sense. Robbie was my prince. All the signs where there, just as Alice had said. He just needed time. He’d just ended a long relationship. And he wouldn’t let me be his rebound, would he? He needed time to heal. That was understandable. I would give him time because that’s what people did when they loved someone, right?
I wished my mind could communicate that to my heart.
I slugged out of bed and slipped into my sparkly red shoes, really missing my little brother right now, and my mom, too, for that matter. I wondered what they were doing. It helped me forget. But only for a moment. I had to find another strategy.
I was hoping that work would help me with that.
I arrived on the second floor long before the herd crossed the parking lot. Robbie was here. I saw his car on the way in and briefly wondered when he would come for his bike. I tried to sneak in undetected, but Oliver jumped out of his box, as if he’d been waiting to pounce.
“Hey, Candace. What’re you doing here so early?” No ridiculous costume today, I noticed. He was himself.
“Thought I’d do a little reading. How’s it going?” Even I could hear the despair in my weak voice.
“We’re over hump day,” Oliver said. He stuck his tongue out to pant as if he’d just finished an intense cardio workout. “You didn’t happen to see the…er protestors outside, did you?”
I had to think about it because I hadn’t been paying attention at all when I walked in. “Yes, I think they’re here.”
His shoulders slumped.
“Weren’t they when you came in?”
“Nope,” he said, standing tall again. “Came in early…to get some stuff done, you know…”
I got the feeling there was more to it than his nonchalance let on. I booted my computer, removed a science fiction journal from my bag, and sank so low into my chair that it probably looked empty from behind. But Oliver was still there.
“Sci-fi? You like that stuff?” he asked, twisting his face in disgust. “Ugh, it’s so boring!”
“I like it sometimes. When I don’t want to experience human emotion.” For a moment, I could get lost in another world, with different rules, and forget what had happened yesterday. At least until Oliver sang his next question.
“Where’s your star-crossed boyfriend?”
“I…dunno. He should be here.” That was true. No need to say anything about yesterday, because Robbie and I were going to get back together. No one needed to know of his temporary…confusion.
“You two usually stroll in here together just in time to sign in. With bed-head and—”
“We rode separately today.” I smiled but I had the feeling it didn’t reach my eyes.
Oliver went back to his desk puzzled and didn’t probe after that. The rest of the day, I kept to myself. At lunch I stayed in my cubicle and tried to read. When I couldn’t concentrate, I pretended to read so no one would talk to me.
At five o’clock on the dot, I darted out of the building, avoiding the common stairs by taking the elevator on the other side of the floor, and didn’t see him until I glanced across the street from my car. He was walking briskly, head down, to his car. I could tell he was avoiding someone. Me. He was avoiding me.
If I could just get through tomorrow without running into him, I would have the weekend to gather myself. It seemed simple enough. But Friday had different plans for me.
I got to work early enough to bury myself in sci-fi again. At a quarter till eight, I braved a trip to the coffee machine. No one was there. I filled my cup with hot water, grabbed a green tea bag and jetted for my cubicle, ignoring Pete’s bewildered wave as I passed him with a quick hello.
My plan failed. As I turned the corner, I saw him—ducking into his cubicle down the narrow hall. He didn’t see me, though. Like yesterday, he looked as if he were avoiding someone—me. It was enough to set the day spinning. I sank into my seat, faced the wall, and pretended to read for the rest of my break.
The good thing about being chained to the desk was exactly that. We were chained to our desks. No one but supervisors walked the floor, and the occasional worker on a bathroom trip or a scheduled break. By no one, I meant Robbie. The morning went by with almost no attention on my withdrawal. At one point in the afternoon, Carrie asked why I was so quiet. I told her I was tired, which wasn’t a total lie. She seemed skeptical, but said nothing.
Breaks and lunches were different. It was high school all over again. Good for me, even on our breaks and lunches a certain level of professionalism was expected. A rigid and icy superficial standard of behavior that left no room to feel. To be human. Crying was not an option. I stayed in my box for lunch, though the knots in my stomach allowed no room for food, even sugar. It occurred to me that all the time Robbie and I had been together, I hadn’t succumbed to sugar’s call. Indeed, I hadn’t even craved sugar. Now, I couldn’t even force myself into remembering sugar’s charm.
Oliver appeared in my cubicle. “What’s with Romeo? You two gotta stop those all-nighters. Or at least save it for the weekend. He’s a wreck. Between you guys, Pete and Sally, and now Carrie.... What is with this place lately? Must be something in the water.”
His eyes moved fast, like he was calculating something. Then it seemed he reached a decision of some sort. He opened his mouth like he had more to say, then closed it at something he saw in my expression. At this point I had no idea what my face showed him. “Why are your hands shaking?” He pointed. “You okay?”
“I’m…hungry,” was all that came to me, though I wasn’t sure that was true.
“When was the last time you ate?” he asked.
That was a difficult question. The last thing I could remember eating was…lunch…on Wednesday.
“Never mind. Here.” He handed me a cracker from the Wheat Thin box on my desk. How long had Oliver been in my cubicle? He had just been in his, hadn’t he? Concern sculpted lines into his forehead.
I shook my head. My body felt heavy and light at the same time. I nibbled on the cracker. Then I did the most humiliating thing. The thing I never want to remember.
My whole body broke down. It trembled and gasped for air. And it hurt—clear to my bones. My cheeks were guttered by incessant streams, warm and salty down to my lips. The inside of my chest stung like needles heated to fifteen hundred degrees. Carrie and Oliver huddled in my box.
A tear, then another, dripped from Oliver’s lids, and his chin quivered. He grabbed a tissue and blew his nose. He cupped a hand over his mouth like he was witnessing the tragic ending of an epic love story. At the moment, I didn’t care. Carrie was silent, brooding over something I couldn’t imagine.
In my peripherals I caught Sally gaping from the end of the aisle. I could only imagine her irritation. I jetted to the bathroom and hid in a stall until I could wrest control of my breathing.
Carrie followed. She didn’t scold or offer advice. “I’m here if you wanna talk,” was all she said through the metal partition. I didn’t want to talk but I came out of the stall. “He’s just too—” she started to say, but stopped at whatever she saw on my face. I shook my head to warn her not to say anything irrational, or anything rational, for that matter. She got the message. “You’re right. He’ll be back.”
I nodded. That sounded reasonable.
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