Ten Thousand Points of Light

by Michelle Warren

  “We’ll take you to the ER,” the man says. Through watery eyes, I notice the ambulance. Red and white lights flash silently. Gawkers encircle us, but volunteers wearing neon hold them back.

  “No.” I shove him away and drag myself to stand on wobbly knees. My entire body’s trembling, lips quivering. I wipe my eyes. I stumble and steady myself by grabbing Evan who’s jumped up too.

  “Whoa, Cait.” His hands are squarely on my shoulders. “Don’t be dumb. You passed out.”

  “Evan, please, take me home. I’m fine.” He can’t see me this way. I need to appear strong. I can’t help the thoughts when they come, though I know it’s too late. He’s seen the worst of it. I school my tremors and cross my arms. I’m decided. Evan glances to the paramedic for backup, but I know I can refuse. I’ve done it before. I only need to sign some papers to be released.

  We catch a taxi home. Evan pays, and we proceed inside. I’m eager to crash, drained from the encounter—my failure. I begin to climb the stairs, but he grabs my shirt, plucking the fabric taut. I pause and turn.

  “Not so fast. If you refuse to see a doctor, I’m not letting you out of my sight. Someone needs to protect you from yourself.”

  “Back to Dr. McDreamy?” I pout.

  “Whatever it takes.” He crosses his arms.

  I get the feeling he’ll throw me over his shoulder if he has to. And right now I’m too weak to protest, and I’m unsure I want to be alone. In my recall, it’s the worst attack I’ve ever had. If I have another... I begin to shake again. I nod with reluctance, and Evan leads me into his apartment.

  “I’ll get you some clothes.” He makes me a glass of water and places it in front of me on the table and instructs me to drink. I hand over my keys. When he darts away, my phone chirps with a text. I remove it from my pocket and read.

  AGGIE: How many more miles until we celebrate? Lou’s antsy.

  Attached is a photo of Lou perched high atop a monument. He’s grabbing a naked sculpture’s crotch. A police officer gestures at him from the ground. On any other day this would cheer me. Instead, shaky fingers text her back.

  ME: Had an issue. Have fun without me.

  AGGIE: More shit?

  ME: Safe. At Evan’s.

  AGGIE: On my way.

  ME: No, I’m fine.

  She doesn’t respond, which means she’ll do as she pleases. I place the cell back on the table. My head lolls to the side. I haven’t touched my water.

  Evan returns and places a few pairs of yoga pants, undies, bras, and my favorite shirt in front of me, along with a grocery bag filled with toiletries. I shift through the clothing he must have gathered from my clean laundry basket, noting there’s a lot here.

  “How long am I staying?”

  “Drink your water,” he demands and sits down with his own glass.

  I take several gulps. Our silence settles and grows before fading into a buzz from the refrigerator. Evan hasn’t asked a single question about what happened, for which I’m thankful. Though I don’t want to, I’m focused on what I saw. A chill runs over my body. I shiver and close my eyes. Seconds later a blanket falls over my shoulders, and Evan’s strong hands rub my upper arms.

  “My cape.” I touch my neck. The space where it was tied is empty.

  “We took it off when you passed out. Do you want me to run back for it?”

  I shake my head. More guilt, but Aggie will understand.

  He continues, “Why don’t you clean up? A shower will make you feel better. I’ll get us some lunch. It’ll be good for you to load up on carbs.”

  “Good idea.” My voice is monotone. In a fog, I rise from the table and the blanket slips away. My mind tumbles through and lands on that nudging sensation. It’s back. My memories dance along the edge on my mind, taunting me. Torturing me. If I could reach out and tug them in my direction, they would unravel. I’d be able to fold them out and read them like a book. If I was alone, maybe I could concentrate and retrieve more.

  When I’m aware again, I’ve already showered. I’m wearing fresh clothes and sitting on Evan’s bed. I don’t even understand how I got here, and my entire body feels numb. I’m holding a towel to my hair, patting it dry. Everything moves in slow motion. The door eases open. Evan leans inside.

  “You okay?” When I glance over, a worry crease forms between his brows.

  “Just need some time.” Even my words are too slow. Too deep.

  He wouldn’t understand, but when he closes the door, I focus on the blank wall before me. There are images crossing my mind in a daydream-like state. They’re a small collection, some I’ve had before now but this is different. These are filled with small stories, which actually make sense.

  I lie back on the bed and tug a pillow to my chest. In the pictures behind my eyes I watch: a young me at birthday party with Barbie dolls. Everything is pink, my favorite color at the time. I throw a tantrum when the party ends. I throw a doll across the room, for which I’m punished.

  I open a window of the car speeding down a hilly country road. The sweet scent of grapes wafts inside. I know we’re nearing my grandfather’s farm in Virginia. When we arrive, I run through the vineyards, chasing the black birds. Hand in hand, my grandmother and I explore the woods. I find a small turtle in their yard. I take it home and make it my pet. His name is Buster or Bubble, something that begins with a B. I don’t know if these things happened in one day, but I know they happened. It’s as though they’re in a folder marked Grandparents.

  The memories are small, but they’re something. More than I’ve ever had. I’m seeing them from the outside rather than living within them, like earlier today. Maybe by returning to the campus, it released something within me.

  For now, I don’t want to remember the campus. I’ve seen enough in my dreams previously to understand that what made sense was real. By my count, I’ve dreamed of that park dozens of times. I hoped I was becoming indifferent to the images, but how can I when something so horrible happened?

  I roll to the side and tug my legs near my chest, focusing on the positive. More images from my early years flash. My parents are the same. Controlling with an insatiable need for me to succeed. This is why I am the way I am—strict with rules and unwilling to lose. I watch and learn and when it’s too much to take, I close my eyes and sleep, finding them in my dreams as well.

  I awake feeling more peaceful than I have in years. It’ll take some time to understand the new memories I’ve been given. But in seeing them, I’m happy. I’m someone. I have a past. I’m not made of a few years that formed after. For the first time, I’m anchored to something real.

  Evan must have covered me while I slept. I push away the blanket and rise. When I enter the living area, he’s shirtless and laying on the floor doing sit-ups. I’m mesmerized watching his washboard abs curl and uncurl. A sweat bead slips between one compact, etched groove to the next.

  “How are you feeling?” he asks, rising into a crunch.

  “Strange,” I admit.

  “So, normal?”

  I stick out my tongue, and his eyes gleam.

  “There’s some deep dish in the oven. Help yourself.”

  At the sound of the word pizza, my stomach grumbles. I find a napkin and utensils and fill my plate. I sit at the table and watch him. “Running twenty miles wasn’t enough?”

  He pops to his feet with zero effort. “Actually, I wanted to show off.”

  I laugh and find my headache has subsided. “I’m impressed. It worked. I’ve never seen a six-pack before.”

  “Eight.” He corrects with a grin and grabs a slice for himself. “Your leprechaun came by,” he says with a full mouth. He refills my water and gives me that look again—drink.

  “What did you tell her?” I pick up the glass and sip.

  “I didn’t. She plowed me over and ran through the condo until she found you sleeping. I’m surprised you didn’t wake up. She’s loud.”

  “I’m surprised you survived. She’s crazy.”
I place the glass on the table.

  He flips a kitchen chair backward and straddles it. A triangle of pizza hangs from his grip. “Why does she call you the Princess of Darkness?”

  I chew and swallow. “She jokes I’m a vampire.”

  With his mouth full, he rolls his hand in air.

  “Because I run at night, wear a lot of black, and my favorite T-shirt.” I sit back so he can read my shirt. I leave my depression issues out of the explanation.

  I continue, “Not sure why, but it is.” A fact I was always positive about, even before I put it on for the first time after. I didn’t even recall The Cure’s music, but now I’ve found it, I’m obsessed.

  “Aggie stayed for a few hours, but she said she was bored. She’ll call later.”

  I nod.

  “And your phone’s been buzzing like crazy.” He pushes it toward me. It scrapes along the tabletop.

  I swipe through and read the messages. “It’s Linden. He says he’ll fire me if I return to work tomorrow? Did you tell him?”

  “You need a break.” He shrugs.

  “But I’m about to close a deal.” My voice rises.

  “Calm down. He’s already been in contact with what’s-his-face from Lakeman,” he says the name with annoyance. “And they want to meet on Wednesday anyway. Linden will handle it until then, so enjoy a few skip days.”

  I cross my arms and slouch back into the chair, giving him a dirty look.

  “If it helps, two of Lakeman’s principals are out of town. Nothing will be executed until they return anyway.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I worked there from the time I was ten. I know how deals work. The final paperwork will be delayed for weeks if not longer. You know that as well as me.”

  I relax a little. I do know that. I shift in my seat and cross my legs, still uncomfortable at the idea. An unrelated image pops into my head. More memories. I stare into space, watching. Evan snaps his fingers. My eyes flutter aware.

  “You’re zoning again. You sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine. Just out of it.” That seems to cover everything wrong with me at the moment, but I need a distraction. I perk up with an idea. “Can we watch a movie?”

  CHAPTER 30

  Evan has movies, an entire closet of them. It’s like he’s never heard of Netflix. We lounge on the couch, watching two in a row. My pick: Midnight in Paris. His pick: Tommy Boy.

  Aggie says you can tell a lot about a person by the movies they choose. I’m worried for what his choice means. Either way I’m happy to give my mind a rest. I’m afraid if I push for more memories and I can’t find any, it will return me to my state of mind from this morning—overwhelmed and confused. For once I want to look on the bright side and enjoy the small victory.

  “I’m sorry you didn’t finish the race,” I say.

  “Not even worried about it. Except that we need a rematch.” His eyebrows pop.

  “Why do you need a rematch if you’re so certain you’ll win?”

  “It’s not about winning, it’s because I want to spend more time with you, friend.”

  An unwanted zap of excitement races down my arm. To ignore the comment, I focus on my glass of water, chugging the rest. After I place it on the end table, I press my hands between my knees and hedge into a subject I’ve been avoiding.

  “Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?”

  “Part of it.” He lifts the remote and presses a button. The screen pauses and the room falls silent.

  “So talk,” I say, though I’m unsure if I’m ready to hear, but as it turns out, facing my fear isn’t always a bad thing. Even if it’s hard, even if I have a panic attack, something good may come out of it.

  He slides his palms over his thighs, appearing antsy and unsure. “There are things I want to tell you, but some of it may not matter in the long run. But what I can share today is I was wrong.”

  “I like where this is going.” I turn to him. I fold my knees beneath me and anchor one elbow on the back of the sofa.

  He places a hand over mine where it rests on my thigh. When the warmth of him spreads across my skin, I twist my fingers with his. My skin tingles, and I squeeze tight. He looks at our hands bound and says, “I was wrong about us. The truth is, it wasn’t you I was worried about not being able to deal with a one-night stand. It was me.”

  His words break as he stumbles over them. “Because of my past... I was worried I may not be able to handle it. And instead of admitting that, I put it on you. A douche move, but yeah. And I was right. I couldn’t deal. I want you to know it was one of the best nights of my life, and I’d like more of them with you. I’d like more of everything with you, Cait.”

  My chest feels fluttery and anxious. I should focus on the fact that he’s telling me he’s into me. Instead, I’m curious about the woman he can’t forget. The only other person he’s been with. The one whose picture probably hangs on his wall a few feet away. But does it matter? Does she matter? She’s not here and I am.

  “So what does it mean?” I can’t bring my gaze to meet his.

  “I guess it doesn’t mean anything unless you want it to.”

  I swallow. There it is. I can have it all. All the crushing I’ve been doing can live in real spot in my life. Evan’s giving himself to me. All I have to do is take him. Can I do this? Can I tell him about my past? Will it matter to him that part of my life is missing? Will he want to deal with the panic attacks, the depression, the crying, and the overbearing parents?

  If I were Evan, I wouldn’t. How can I ask someone to accept them when I can barely stand them myself? How can I imagine a future with him when I know very little about my own past? There’s a lifetime of good and bad that made me who I am, and I don’t even know what those things are. I can’t explain why I do anything I do. I have no reference for any decision I make.

  His mouth draws tight before he continues, “I don’t expect a response. You’ve already told me what you wanted from this, but I needed to tell you where I stand, and I’m sorry for being such an ass.”

  I nod. What I want to tell him is I lied a little too. I lied to myself. If I could brush aside my drama, I’d very much like to see where this goes. This is what I wanted after our first night. A chance. And now he wants to give us a chance. I’m scared of what will happen if I give in to him, and I’m scared of what will happen if I don’t.

  “Can we...?” I pause to find the words that will make sense. But instead of words, I curl my body into his and place my head on his shoulder. I’m close enough I can hear his breathing and watch the rise and fall of his chest. I place my hand over his thumping heart.

  He drops his arm around my back and folds me into his body heat before kissing my forehead. My skin ignites at his touch but this is enough. I only need us to be who we are right now. No commitments, no explanations, only discovering each other as the moments arise.

  He increases the volume for the next movie. It’s one a.m. and we’re back to his choice. “You’ll love this one,” he says. The title, Spaceballs, appears on the screen.

  ***

  In the middle of the night, I wake to an arm draped over my waist. I turn and find Evan sleeping peacefully. He must have carried me to his bed. I reach out to touch his face. Brushing his stubble beneath my palm wakes him, and his hooded eyes open. I slide closer forcing our breath to commingle and our knees to touch. When he rubs his hand down my back, I sigh.

  All the good things I have are because I listened to my heart: moving and taking a job in Chicago, befriending Aggie, and finding Ozzy. I need to believe Evan can be part of the good too. That all of those things combined can give me a beautiful future while my mind reconstructs my past and navigates a way to open my heart. It’s scary, yes, but I often find my bravery in the inky darkness of the night. I blame the glittering gems dotting the sky. The stars make me believe I can do anything.

  I softly touch my lips to his. I’m giving into what I’ve been denying myself—t
rue happiness. This is real. Evan is real. We are real.

  Tonight we only kiss. At accepting who he is to me, there’s no rush to push forward. We have plenty of time to get to know each other, and I need to take this slow. When we make love again, I want it to be like it’s the very first time. And when it happens, I want it to be real love. Not lust. Not pretend.

  We spoon, thighs against thighs. My hips press into the curve of his pelvis. His hand reaches over my stomach, tucking me tight. His chin rests on my shoulder where he blows across my ear, rustling my hair. It tickles my cheek as we drift back asleep.

  It’s early when I sneak out of Evan’s bed and return to my apartment. There I shower and dress. At six a.m., I step into the lobby of my office building. Just as the doors to the elevators begin to slide close, I snap an arm between them. The sensor dings and the doors divide again, but I hold my breath when I see who’s inside.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  James resigns a smile. It’s not as bright as the other times, but only a few days ago he was vying for my heart. Now he knows we’ll never be anything beyond this.

  “I thought you were ill?”

  “It was nothing. Just a little bug,” I lie.

  “I have an early meeting with Linden.”

  James must see the alarm in my eyes, and he continues, “I’m afraid there’s a problem with the lease. I guess he didn’t discuss it with you yet.”

  “Nothing too serious, I hope?” I shift my stance.

  Before he can answer, the elevator doors ding and slide open. At the office floor, Linden stands inside the lobby. He’s already waiting for James. Not good. I tense, back rigid. Linden ignores the fact that I’m here when he forbade it and extends his hand to James.

  “Nice to see you again,” he says.

  “Same,” James responds.

  “Take a seat in my office. How do you like your coffee?” He leads James away. After he confirms his order, I follow Linden to the kitchen. His movements are curt, controlled. This is mad Linden. I’ve seen it before, many times. He might be ticked, but I’m something more.