by S. Walden
“Tell me where you are, Cadence!” he shouted unexpectedly. “I was worried sick!” He tore open the shower curtain and glared at her. “Do you have any idea where I was just now?”
She shook her head.
“I was driving all over town looking for you! Christ! I had no idea where you were! I called a million times! I even looked through your things hoping I’d find Carrie’s number!”
Cadence calmly rinsed the shampoo from her hair. There was no way in hell she was apologizing for worrying him. He deserved it.
“You shouldn’t go through my things,” she said. “Remember you got mad at me for going through yours?”
She stared right at him through wicked eyes. Not eyes full of hurt or sadness. They were eyes full of hate, and they betrayed her secret: I’m gonna make your life a living hell, they said. And you’ll deserve every bit of it.
He reared back, stunned. And then he pulled the curtain. He couldn’t look at her for the fear it evoked in his heart. That wasn’t Cadence in the shower. That was another woman masquerading as Cadence. He remembered her confession to him a long time ago—how she turned into her bizarre alter ego during that argument with Gracie in the school parking lot. He thought her alter ego had returned. And she had one thing on her mind: vengeance. Didn’t he deserve it? After all, he kept a secret all these months. He deceived her. Didn’t he deserve her revenge?
She turned off the shower and pulled back the curtain. She jumped at the sight of him. She thought he’d gone to the living room, but he stood in the center of the bathroom, staring at her, contemplating something.
“Are you hungry?” he asked softly.
She nodded, wrapping the towel around her body.
“Would you like to order in?”
“Chinese?”
“Sounds good.” He watched her walk to the sink and grab her face lotion.
Going through the motions. Pretending. Even though just a minute ago her eyes told him in no uncertain terms that she was out for blood. His blood. Well, his proverbial blood. Maybe if he just acted normally, she’d forgive him faster. Maybe she’d never forgive him.
They ate in silence. They watched TV in silence. They went to bed without wishing each other “good night.” No kiss. No cuddling. Mark’s fear grew exponentially the longer he lay awake in the silent darkness of their bedroom, listening to her measured breathing. He knew his mind would take him back there to that day in the hospital. He was primed for it, anxiety permeating his entire body. He tried to fight the heavy sleep looming just above him, pressing ever so gently, encouraging him to close his eyes and drift away.
“Don’t be cruel,” he mumbled, sinking further into his pillow. And God wasn’t. There was no nightmare of that day in the hospital. There was only reprieve. And hope.
Electric tingling. That’s what he felt. He burst through his apartment door and walked straight to the bedroom, gathering all the pictures of a girl gone to heaven, collecting the odds and ends that were distinctly hers and placing them on the bed in a large pile.
He stood over the bed and scanned the items: her old scarves. She loved to wear scarves with jeans and boots. Fall was her favorite season. The pictures. Her eyes stared at him, wondering what he was up to. Questioning his motives. A small ceramic jewelry box she’d kept from childhood. She always said it was the ugliest thing, but the only present she ever received from her grandfather. So she kept it. And cherished it. Journals. He read them every day, listened for the sound of her voice as she described her wishes for a new job, her desire to own a home. A feeling. A regret. A funny anecdote. A prayer.
“I have to, Andy,” he said out loud. He waited for her response.
Only the stillness of a quiet afternoon.
“I saw her today. And something burst in my chest. I haven’t had a feeling like that since I realized I loved you,” he explained. “I never thought I’d feel like that again.”
He waited. She remained silent.
“She’s the littlest thing I’ve ever seen. So fragile.”
He moved Andy’s things aside and sat on the bed.
“I don’t know how I’ll ever find her. I don’t know if I’ll see her again. I know her name. That’s it. But I’m sure there’s more than one ‘Cadence Miller’ in the world.”
He picked up a scarf and wrapped it around his wrist as he talked.
“You like that name, huh?” he asked. “I do.” He paused. “Cadence. I like to say it. Cadence. She’s so small, Andy. I think if I grabbed her hand too hard, I’d break her fingers. I’ve never seen someone so little.”
Sure he had. He’d come across lots of little people, but none of them mattered to him, so he forgot them. He only saw her. She was all that mattered.
He stared at the blue flowers that speckled the fabric of the scarf.
“I want to love her,” he whispered. “I think I’m supposed to. But I don’t want to hurt you.”
He knew it made no sense. How could he hurt her? She was gone. She’d been gone for two years.
Two years.
He looked at the pile of Andy’s things on his bed.
“I can’t explain it, Andy. I looked up at her, and suddenly everything made sense. I had a purpose. Just like that. To love this girl.” He snorted. “I don’t even know that I’ll ever see her again!”
He picked through the pictures until he found his favorite. He had taken it in bed as he hovered over her, tickling her with one hand and taking snapshots with his phone with the other. She was laughing hysterically, and he captured a moment of pure bliss—her mouth thrown open, eyes shut tight, long hair draped over the pillow. Happiness.
“May I?” he asked. He wasn’t quite sure what his question meant until she answered him.
“Let go,” the voice whispered.
He jumped up and dropped the picture on the floor. He scanned the room carefully.
“Andy?”
“Let go.” It was farther away now.
He walked to the corner of the room where he swore he heard it.
“Andy?!”
“Let go.” Just the faintest whisper floating out of the room through the open window.
He ran to it and threw up the sash.
“Andy!” he called. But she was gone. And she had given him her blessing. Now, what to do with it?
He closed the window slowly, then walked back to the bed. He thought of Cadence staring at him, trash stick poised in hand, a look of shock and awe on her face. Why the look? He was a regular guy. He thought he looked like a regular guy. But she gawked anyway and made him nervous.
He’d forgotten that feeling—instant explosions in the heart, like tiny stars bursting in intervals, filling the space with warmth and light. God, he’d do anything to hold on to that feeling! But he needed Andy’s permission first.
And she gave it to him. So now he knew what to do. All the while he packed away Andy’s belongings, he thought about Cadence. And the little stars burst all over again, warming his chest, lighting his heart.
“I’m coming for you,” he said, and the smile broke out on his face. “I’m coming for you, Cadence.”
“I went on a date with Dylan,” Avery said, walking alongside Cadence to the student parking lot.
“No surprise there,” Cadence replied.
Avery bristled. “What does that mean?”
“It means I figured you would. You two were making eyes at each other all during our card night.”
Avery grinned. “He’s nice.”
“He’s a player.”
“No.”
Cadence stopped in her tracks. “Yes, Avery, he is. He has a new girlfriend every time I see him.”
“Not anymore,” she said.
“So you guys are a couple now?”
“Yep.”
“Well, congratulations.” Her tone suggested jealousy.
“What’s your problem?” Avery asked. They stood beside Cadence’s car.
“Nothing. I said congratulations.”<
br />
“Yeah, with a bullshit attitude,” Avery replied. “Does this have to do with Mark?”
Cadence snorted. “Oh, so he’s ‘Mark’ now? Is that because you’re dating his best friend?”
Avery sighed patiently. “You’re not gonna take out your anger on me because you’re pissed at your boyfriend.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re acting like a little bitch with a little bitch attitude problem.”
“Are you done? I need to go to work,” Cadence said flatly.
“We wanted to see if you guys wanted to come over for dinner,” Avery said.
“Huh?”
“This Friday night. We’re making dinner.”
“You live at home. How can you go to Gavin’s?”
“Dylan’s.”
“That’s what I meant. Dylan’s,” Cadence said flippantly.
Avery folded her arms over her chest. “My parents think I’m spending the night with Marybeth.”
“Gotcha,” Cadence replied. “Well, I guess we can come over.”
Avery eyed her carefully. “His name is Dylan,” she said.
“Huh?”
“Stop dismissing this, Cadence. He’s important to me,” Avery said.
“You’ve known him five minutes.”
“He’s important to me,” she repeated. Slowly—as a warning.
“Are you going to move in with him?” Cadence asked. She ignored the warning. She heard it, but it didn’t scare her.
“We’ve only known each other five minutes,” Avery replied.
Clever girl, Cadence thought. I can be fucking clever, too.
“Jealousy is really unattractive on you,” Avery said.
“Why would I be jealous? I don’t wanna date Dylan.”
“No. But you wanna be happy right now, and you’re not.”
Cadence said nothing.
“I’m not trying to throw anything in your face. I know you’re hurting, okay? But I thought maybe if we all hung out, it would ease some of the tension,” Avery said. “I want you to be happy.”
Cadence didn’t even know what that meant. How would hanging out with Avery and Dylan make her happy? It was a stupid comment, and it pissed her off.
“I’m super, actually.” She checked her cell phone. “And late. I’ve gotta go.”
“Leave the attitude when you come over,” Avery said. “This Friday at seven.” She didn’t bother to say goodbye, and Cadence couldn’t care less.
***
It was Oliver and Kim all over again. Massive jealousy mixed with an alarming degree of hatred. Hatred. That wasn’t like Cadence to feel hatred. Only when her alter ego emerged, and she wasn’t there. If she were, she’d have lunged across the table at Avery, who chatted pleasantly about her coursework. Coursework? Who gives a shit? Cadence didn’t know who this chick was. Avery was nineteen. This girl across the table was a little thirty-something grownup talking about thirty-something grownup things. Her plans after graduation. Her 401(k). The girl made minimum wage at a lingerie store, and she had a 401(k)? Fuck your 401(k), Avery, Cadence thought.
“More wine anyone?” Avery offered.
Cadence nodded, and smiled sweetly.
“Did you guys hear about that concert happening at the Tabernacle?” Avery asked as she filled Cadence’s wine glass.
I’m soooo getting drunk tonight, Cadence decided.
“Oh, those local DJs?” Mark asked. “Yeah. I’m getting tickets tomorrow.”
“Already did,” Avery said. She smiled. “I figured we could all go.”
“Since when do you like instrumental hip hop?” Cadence asked. It came out just the slightest bit accusatory.
Avery ignored her tone. “Dylan’s been introducing it to me slowly. At his store,” she said, grinning at her new boyfriend. She reached up and pinched his cheek.
Yep. Getting drunk. Then barfing, Cadence thought.
“Remember how I had to walk you through a record player and how it works, Cadence?” Dylan asked.
“Uh huh.”
“Ditto for this one,” he said, nudging Avery.
“And what do you think about it?” Cadence asked Avery.
“A record player or the music?”
“The music.”
“I like it. It’s chill,” she said.
Cadence responded by shoving a piece of garlic chicken in her mouth.
“Anyway, what do you all think about going?” Avery asked.
The boys nodded. Cadence shrugged.
“I’ll have to check my calendar,” she said.
“Oh, you have a calendar now?” Avery asked, chuckling. It was a patronizing chuckle that sent Cadence over the edge. Internally, anyway.
“Yeah. I do. And I may be hanging with Michael and Carrie that evening.”
“You don’t even know what evening it is because I haven’t said yet,” Avery replied.
“Okay then. What evening?”
“February 10.”
“All right. I’ll have to check my calendar,” Cadence replied. And then she added slowly, “I may be hanging with Michael and Carrie that evening.”
Dylan and Mark eyed each other from across the table. They were good at communicating with one another silently. They learned through several years of bar hopping and serving as each other’s wingman.
This is exactly what I was talking about, Mark’s eyes said.
Fuck you, Dylan’s eyes answered.
“Is there something you need to get off your chest?” Avery asked.
“No. Why?” Cadence replied.
“Because you’re acting like a total bitch right now.”
“So anyway . . .” Dylan interjected. “That movie starts at nine. We better wrap this up if we’re gonna make it in time.”
“I’m sorry you’ve gotten that impression. I don’t know what I said to make you think I’m acting like a bitch,” Cadence said.
“Oh, please. You’ve had an attitude since you walked through the door,” Avery replied.
“I don’t have an attitude. I’m just tired,” Cadence explained.
“Liar.”
“Maybe we oughta get going,” Mark suggested. “You know. For good seats.”
“Don’t call me a liar,” Cadence said evenly.
“Well, that’s what you are. I don’t know what your problem is. I didn’t do anything to you,” Avery snapped.
“I never said you did. In fact, I never said anything about anything. I don’t have an attitude. I’m sorry you think that. I’m also sorry we can’t see the movie with you.”
Cadence hopped up from her seat and threw her linen napkin on the table.
“What the fuck with these napkins?!” she screamed unexpectedly. “Did you actually go out and buy these things?”
“So what if I did?!” Avery yelled back.
“You’re nineteen, Avery!”
“I’m well aware of that, Cadence!”
Cadence couldn’t block the scene playing in her mind—cloth napkins and a stupid, drunk bitch who sat across the table from her, waxing on and on about the real world and all its responsibilities and how Cadence just didn’t understand. But she would. She’d eventually understand.
The entire night was embarrassing. She was ashamed at herself for making a big fuss about that dinner. Cloth napkins. She’d gone out to purchase them specifically for that dinner. She was trying so hard to be older. And she ended up looking like a fool.
She glared at the cloth napkin balled on her plate.
“Stop trying to act like you’re all grown up!” she screamed at Avery. “This isn’t your life!”
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about!” Avery replied. “It’s a fucking cloth napkin!”
But it wasn’t. It wasn’t just a cloth napkin. It was Cadence lost—lost to this world of grown-up dinners with friends, living with her boyfriend, paying rent, paying car insurance. She felt like a wanderer. She was one. She recalled wandering around the store searching
for those cloth napkins, trying to be someone she wasn’t, and now she felt the napkin wrap itself around her face, suffocating her. Punishing her for playing the charlatan.
“It’s not!” Cadence roared.
“Cadence, stop,” Mark said. He took her hand, and she jerked away.
“We’re leaving!” she screamed in Avery’s face.
“Good! You weren’t invited to the movie, anyway!”
Cadence grabbed her purse and stormed out. She didn’t wait for Mark. She knew he’d hang back and give their apologies.
“Fuck that,” she said to the night air as she stood by the car. They weren’t her apologies. She wasn’t sorry for anything she said.
Mark approached the car and took a deep breath.
“If you even think about saying anything to me right now, I’ll scream bloody murder,” Cadence warned.
They locked eyes, and Mark nodded. There were so many things he wanted to say to her, but he stored them up instead. The explosion was coming. He knew. And he thought he ought to make it a good one. She most certainly would. So he sealed his mouth and seethed in silence, setting the countdown timer in his heart.
***
“Whoa. Somebody’s a sassafras,” Michael said, eyeing Cadence. They were ten minutes early for their composition class.
“Where do you come up with this stuff? You’re such a dork,” she spat.
He watched her pretty face screw up in a most unattractive scowl, and chuckled.
“What?” Cadence barked.
“What is your problem? How can you be this irritable already at nine in the morning? What the hell did I do?”
Cadence sighed. “Nothing. You didn’t do anything. I’m sorry.”
“Okay. You covered your bases with me. But now you need to apologize to all that.” He swept his hand across the window.
“Apologize to what?”
“The world.”
She cracked a smile.
“Seriously. What’s the matter with you?”
“Nothing,” she mumbled. She didn’t trust sharing her problems with Michael. He always seemed a little too eager to know what was wrong with her and even more eager to help her feel better.
“Try again.”