The Space In Between(42)

“You’re overthinking it. Stop thinking. Turn off the left side of your brain and allow your creativity to flow. Like with your photos. When you take the pictures your body isn’t tight. It’s not overthinking about what the photo may turn out to be. You’re allowing the photo to flow to you.”
She made sense. I tried to stop thinking about the movements and fell into the art of dance. “So, you like her a lot.” She assumed I was learning the dance moves in order to impress Andrea. Ladasha wasn’t a dummy.
“I do,” I said as I glided myself around Ladasha. She informed me that tomorrow we would have to trade partners, which seemed much more complicated than I was ready for. So I pretended she never said that. One step at a time.
“I wish you could have known her before the accident.”
“I’m hoping to know her after it.” We kept dancing into the night. I wasn’t good—let’s not be crazy. But I wasn’t horrible. My feet stepped on hers more than I wanted to admit, but she was a great teacher. She allowed me to make mistakes and cheered me on when I fixed them myself. A brilliant instructor she had turned out to be.
When we decided to call it a night, she stuck around to help me move the furniture we had previously pushed into the kitchen back into the living room. As we carried the sofa, she told me she was in need of a few questions to be answered from me. If I had plans to be around Andrea for the long run, I had to first pass the best friend questionnaire.
“Have you ever been hooked on drugs? Alcohol?”
“No.”
She shifted the oversized blue chair into the far corner of the room. “STDs?”
“No.”
“Are things really done and over with your wife?”
That was a very clear yes. Minus the messed up paparazzi threats.
“Any children you may or may not know about?”
I grew quiet. She must have seen the sadness in my eyes, so she was quick to tell me that everything spoken during the questionnaire was strictly confidential.
“Two miscarriages and one lie.”
Her look of understanding was comforting. She didn’t judge me; she just listened. Hell, it was good to just have someone listen for once. I could see why Andrea spoke so highly of this unique woman. She was somethin’ else.
As she prepared to leave the room, she revealed a small fact about herself. “My mom cared more about her drugs, and my dad…God knows who he is. And as far as miscarriages are concerned…” Her voice trailed off and she lost herself in her memories, “Let’s just say I know how you feel.” I returned the same understanding look to her. She smirked and went back to her sassy self instantly. “But that’s off the record.”
“Of course.”
I opened the front door for her and walked her back to the house. I watched as she wrapped her arms around herself to keep warm in the falling snow, and I placed my jacket around her shoulders. As we said goodnight, she smiled and said the kindest thing to me.
“Cooper, you would have made a great father.”
I walked back towards the coach house that night with a few new dance moves and a brand new friend.
Ladasha’s parents had no clue about the treasure they’d let go.
Dumbasses.


Chapter Twenty-Seven

I WAS HAVING a nightmare. I was smiling, I was dancing, and I was lying next to Derrick. We were laughing at the neighbors, drinking in the bars, and living happily ever after. I snuggled my head into the curve of his neck and we fit so perfectly together. Yet when I looked up, Derrick was gone. I was standing alone, lost, and confused, crying out. Derrick! Why would he leave me? My breaths were short and my screams were loud, but no one could hear me. I raced through the house, searching for an explanation, searching for clues of his escape, searching for him. But he was gone. And I was left crying.
How could he leave me? We were so happy. We had everything. We had each other. Wasn’t I enough? How could he walk away and not look back? I continued searching the house— thinking I’d missed a spot. I had to have missed something, right? The tears kept falling, and I kept searching and praying for him to be there next to me. So I traveled to the front door and opened it to reveal the darkest truth.
Another man. He was handsome, charismatic, and mine for the taking. He looked at me and didn’t just see me, but he knew me. He knew the curves of my body—he knew the whispers of my heart. And he was waiting. Waiting for me to step out of the house. Waiting for me to walk down the pebbled sidewalk with him. He didn’t pressure me. He simply leaned against the porch railing and smiled.
He was handsome, charismatic, and mine for the taking.
And I closed the door in his face. I couldn’t leave the house. It was my safe haven. It was my place to find peace. But somehow—before my eyes—it had become a prison. The walls were the chains holding me down, and the memories were the nourishment I was so desperate to have.
`And I woke up. I could tell by the swelling of my eyes that I’d not only been crying in my dreams, but also as I lay asleep in the bed. I glanced in the mirror at myself and studied my face. Patting my fingers lightly under the puffy, red eyes, I began to wipe away the lone tear that was left as evidence to my semi-sleepless night.
Nightmares were the worst.
“Anders, are you all right?” At the sound of the word Anders, I knew it was my mother. What was she doing here so early? Why could I not catch a freaking break? I breathed in the dry air of the room and turned to the bedroom doorway.
“I’m fine, Mom. What are you doing here so early?” I watched as her eyes widened with even more worry, and I shifted myself to the alarm clock on the nightstand. 1:04 pm. Crap. It wasn’t early.