FADING (A novel)(123)

Chapter Forty


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A few days after the production, the calls started coming in. I was offered placements in five companies. Pacific Northwest Ballet here in Seattle was one of them, but when the call came from the American Ballet Theatre in New York, one of the most respected ballet companies in the world, I couldn’t say no. My dreams of dancing full-length classics such as Swan Lake and La Bayadere at the Met are about to come true. I can hardly believe it. Life has been a total whirlwind since I accepted their offer.

Graduation is in two weeks, so I have been busy packing up my room and researching apartments in New York City. I found a flat in a walk up that is close to Lincoln Center, where I will be dancing every day. I rented a storage unit here in Seattle to store some of my furniture and the boxes of things I don’t need or won’t have space for. Once I’m more settled I will figure out what to do with everything.

Everyone is out of town for Memorial Day weekend. I stayed behind because I just had too much to do. Kimber is still seeing Seth even though he is moving to California for grad school. She says they aren’t in love or anything, just having fun. They went to Whistler for four days while Mark and Jase went to Vegas.

It’s Saturday night, and while everyone is on vacation, I am sitting on the floor of my trashed room, trying to sort through all of my things, deciding what to throw away, what to take with me, and what to leave behind in storage.

My phone rings and when I pick it up, I see it’s Kimber calling and that it’s already past midnight. Swiping my phone, I answer, “Hey, Kimber.”

“Candace, hey.” Her voice is shaky and slow.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Uh . . . Candace, Seth just got a call from one of his fraternity brothers, and I need to talk to you about something.”

My mind immediately goes to Jack. Why else would I care about any news from Seth’s frat house?

“Okay. What’s up?”

There is a long pause before she speaks.

“Jack’s dead.”

I swear my heart stops when she tells me this, and I have to remember to breathe.

“What?”

“Yeah. It happened earlier today. A drunk driving accident.”

“Oh.” I don’t know what to say. I feel numb.

“Look, I can come home if you need me to. I just wanted to tell you before you saw it on TV or something.”

“No, I’m fine. Really.” For some reason, I feel tears threatening, and I rush to get off the phone. “You guys have fun. I’m about to go to bed. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Bye.”

When she hangs up, I set the phone down. I feel the tears run down my face, but I don’t make a sound. Jack’s dead. I keep saying it to myself over and over. He’s dead. The more I say it, the more my emotions well up. I want to shut down, but I know I need to force myself to feel whatever it is that is brewing inside of me.

When I choke back a breath, that’s when I begin to cry. I’m not sure why I’m crying. I’m so confused. I don’t know what I’m feeling, but it feels a lot like sadness. But why am I sad? Shouldn’t I be happy? But I’m not happy. He’s dead. God, what’s wrong with me? I shouldn’t be feeling sad for the guy who raped me. I should be relieved—relieved that I don’t have to be scared of him anymore. I begin to sob, my emotions overtake me, and I know for sure: this is hurt and sadness.

I pick up the phone to call Jase, but it just goes to voicemail. I hate that I’m feeling this way. I lie on the floor in the middle of my messy room, and curl into a ball. I try to slow my breathing, but everything about Jack starts flashing through my mind: meeting him for the first time at the club, dancing with him at Remedy, kissing him in his car. Why am I thinking this way? I should be thinking about the * that raped me, broke me, destroyed me. He ruined my life, and I’m sobbing on my floor because I feel bad for him.

I need to run away. I know I shouldn’t, but I just need to escape. I throw on my running shoes and walk outside. It’s the middle of the night, and the streets are quiet. It’s raining, but I don’t care. I just walk. I walk and cry as the drops fall from the sky. I don’t know how long I’ve been walking or where I’m even going. My running shorts and t-shirt are soaked through, and my hair is drenched in a bun on top of my head. I wander through the streets, unable to calm myself down.

When I turn onto yet another street, my vision blurred by my tears, I start walking up stairs—familiar stairs. When I knock on the door and no one answers, a fresh wave of tears break free. I feel so alone.

Hearing the click of the lock, I look up as the door opens, and my stomach clenches when I see his clear-blue eyes staring at me. I start sobbing and fall into his chest. He quickly wraps his arms around me, and I cling desperately to him. It’s been months since I’ve touched him. I melt into him, and he reaches down, slipping his arm behind my knees and scoops me up, cradling me in his arms as he walks me inside.

When he sits us down on his couch, I remain in his arms, curled in his lap. I lay my head on the curve of his shoulder as he holds onto me tightly, as if he’s scared I’ll slip away. When my cries soften into short breaths and hiccups, he asks, “Baby, what happened?”