The Cora Carmack New Adult Boxed Set: Losing It, Keeping Her, Faking It, and Finding It plus bonus material (14 page)

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-
T
WO

I
THOUGHT ABOUT
going to his place as soon as I got home, but truth be told I was afraid. And it was so much easier just to feel sorry for myself. I had a tub of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream in my freezer on hold for just such occasions. It would have been nice to share it with Kelsey, but I couldn’t afford to share my secret with another person, and I wasn’t selfish enough to make Cade witness any more of my pity party. He promised he wouldn’t tell anyone, and I believed him.

I sat on one end of my couch, eyeing Hamlet spread out on the other end. I wondered if she might comfort me. She had been nice to me only once at another sad moment, so maybe I had a chance. I reached for her, and received not just her usual growl, but a hiss too.

She was clearly on Garrick’s side.

I thought about going to him a thousand times, maybe a thousand and one. But I had to face it—he had been out of my league from the very beginning. He would have gotten tired of me eventually, once the forbidden factor wore off. And I can’t even begin to contemplate what might have happened if we’d been caught. Even the thought of it brought adrenaline rushing through me, like when he’d kissed me in the lab for anyone to see. Maybe I was doing myself a favor, severing the ties now. I mean, it sucked times seven billion, but it would have been worse after more time.

In my dim, quiet apartment in my ice cream induced haze, I could admit that I had been falling for him. Our oh-so-brief relationship had been like spending a day in sunlight when you’ve lived your whole life underground (my former self being the mole man in this story). Maybe that was all we got when it came to relationships like that—flashes of sunlight. Maybe it was too bright to be sustained for any extended period of time. Maybe I should be thankful.

I didn’t feel thankful. I felt miserable (and full of ice cream).

We were in the lab again Wednesday, and he never came within three feet of my workspace. At rehearsal that night, he sat in the top row taking notes, and never said a word.

Thursday and Friday were the same. Though the acting in rehearsals had improved now that Cade and I had patched things up (sort of). We weren’t quite friends again. I didn’t see us hanging out alone any time in the future, but we could talk without any major disasters, and both of our minds had cleared enough to focus on the play.

I returned to my mole man state on the weekend, never leaving my apartment, showering only when absolutely necessary. Any other weekend, Kelsey might have forced me into an outing, but she was still a little ticked about my attitude at the club.

So, I was pretty much alone.

I had no one, but Hamlet. Who hated me with the fire of a thousand suns.

I passed an entire week in a state of loneliness before I had the nerve to do anything about it.

I dropped by during his office hours, too afraid to confront him at home or after class. When I approached the door, he was on the phone.

“I know,” He was nodding, smiling. “I know. I’ll be home before you know it. What is it, just three more months?”

I froze. I plastered myself to the wall outside his door, and my lungs seemed empty no matter how many breaths I took.

“That? No, I’m over it. It really wasn’t anything to begin with . . . just inconvenient.”

Something was crumbling inside me, something that had already been vulnerable and weak, but now was breaking and breaking.

“I should have known better. I know, but it’s over now, and I don’t really care anymore, you know? Yeah, yeah. I’ll find another place to work. It’s just not worth it.”

Not worth it?

I think, until then, I’d still hoped, even though I’d tried to talk myself out of it.

Hope . . . it was such a motherfucker.

I wouldn’t cry. He was over it. I needed to be, too. And I needed to make sure he knew it. If he was thinking about quitting to stay away from me, I had to fix that. I wouldn’t be the reason he left.

Before I could change my mind, I reached out and knocked on the doorframe, and stepped into the open doorway.

He looked up, and stuttered over whatever he was going to say next. He stared at me for a second, the phone forgotten in his hand.

Then finally, he blinked, and turned back to his conversation.

“Hey, I have to go. I’ll call you later, okay?”

I hated whoever was on the other end of that phone call. Was it a girl? Did he have a girlfriend back in Philly? Had it been just a fling for him, just sex (or well, almost sex)? Whoever it was spoke for another twenty seconds while he said yes and okay and nodded along.

When he hung up, I still had no idea what I was going to say.

He just looked at me for a moment, and then said, “How can I help you, Bliss?”

His formal tone made me queasy, but I tried to copy it as best as I could. “I just wanted to apologize for my behavior during our rehearsal together. Cade and I have worked everything out—“

He interrupted, “I noticed.”

My thoughts stuttered, fleeing for the moment. “So . . . I, uh, I promise it won’t happen again. In the future, I will maintain a professional attitude. I won’t bring my personal life into rehearsal or your classroom.”

He put down the pen he’d been toying with, and started to stand. “Bliss . . .”

Whatever he was going to say, I couldn’t hear it. If I had to listen to him try to let me down easy (when I knew he didn’t care), I would end up crying and making a fool of myself. So I cut him off.

“It’s okay. I’m over it. No big deal, right?”

He paused and I was certain he knew I was lying, certain he could see into my churning stomach, my wringing heart. I willed him to believe me.

I’m okay. I’m over it. I’m okay. Okay. Okay.

“Right,” he finally said.

I sucked in a greedy breath.

“Great. Thanks for your time. Have a nice day!” Then I was out the door and running, running, running down the stairs out into the air where I could gulp and fill my lungs until I no longer felt like crying.

From then on, I built walls with smiles and closed myself off with laughs. I made up with Kelsey, promising her I would go dancing whenever she wanted. I threw myself into rehearsal, memorizing all of my lines over a week before the off-book date. I willed myself into March like a soldier, moving forward, refusing to look back. Eric praised my work in rehearsals, saying he could feel my shame, my self-hatred in every word, could see it in even my posture. I smiled and pretended like I was glad to hear it.

I set my sights on graduation, when I would leave and go who knows where. Maybe I’d max out a credit card and go traveling with Kelsey. Maybe I’d go back home and work, save some money. Mom would just
love
that. Maybe I’d stay here, get a job at Target or something. I just had to get to the end. Things would get easier then. Then . . . I would deal. I’d tell Kelsey about everything, and we’d party the pain away. Then.

I couldn’t wait for Then.

It seemed possible. It seemed do-able.

Until the Now screwed everything up.

We were one week away from Spring Break—a much needed break. Friday afternoon had us all in the black box theatre for beginning directing scene workshops. The entire department was gathered into the theatre—the Junior directors petrified, everyone else ranged from boredom to sadistic glee.

I was just marching forward, willing the time to pass, until Rusty stood to make an announcement before the first scene.

He cleared his throat, remarkably serious for Rusty. “So . . . I went to the doctor yesterday . . .”

“And you’re pregnant?” Someone at the back shouted.

“No,” He smiled, albeit a small one. “Actually . . . I have mono.”

There was a beat before it sank in.

“The doctor said that the incubation is anywhere between four and eight weeks, which means I could have had it as far back as January or February. So . . . you might want to be careful about drinking after people and . . . other things.”

January or February. The party. I’d kissed Rusty at that party. We’d all kissed . . . everyone.

By instinct, my eyes sought out the other members of that spin the bottle game. Their expressions were just as anxious and fearful as my own. If Rusty was already contagious back then, that meant I would have it, along with Cade, and Kelsey and Victoria, and every person at that party.

And Garrick.

Damn.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-
T
HREE

I
CAUGHT UP
to him as soon as the scenes were over. Actors milled about still in their costumes. Professors congratulated their students, and everyone gravitated toward their groups, making plans for the weekend. Everyone else seemed calm and happy, and I felt like the world was ending. Walking toward Garrick was up there with walking into a room filled with anthrax.

But I did it anyway.

Luckily, he wasn’t talking to anyone, just checking something on his phone. I stood behind him for a few moments. Just being this close to him affected me. It really was like a poison. I breathed him in, and I could feel it breaking down the walls and protection I’d built.

I don’t know if I made a noise or if he felt me behind him, but he turned and looked at me. For a split second, I thought he would smile. Then his expression changed, and he became wary. Like he didn’t trust me. Then his face went blank.

I had all these emotions and memories pushing against my barricades, trying to spill out into the open. He looked like he couldn’t care less.

I wanted to spit it out and run, but I knew that was a bad idea. It’s not exactly normal to warn your professor that you might have given him mono.

“Can we talk . . . in private?” I asked.

He looked around the room, and I could imagine where his eyes went. To Eric probably. Maybe to Cade. Or Dom. Whatever he was looking at, he stayed focused there as he said, “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Bliss.”

Yeah, I’d run out of good ideas a long time ago.

“It won’t take long,” I promised him.

He looked at me, finally. I wanted to believe I saw a softness in his eyes, but I could have imagined it. I did that all the time. All I had to do was close my eyes, and I could see him reaching toward me, his lips millimeters from my own. But always . . . always I opened my eyes and it wasn’t real.

A hand curved around my shoulder, and pulled me into a hug. It was Eric. He started talking, about rehearsals and costumes and spring break, and all of these things I just didn’t have room for in my head.

I looked at Garrick, smiling at his boss. His smile was tight, close-lipped. When was the last time I saw that gorgeous grin.

Maybe I didn’t have to tell him. I mean, I wasn’t even sick.

It’s not like he’d made out with anyone else from that party (I hoped). And if I never got sick, he never had to know. Plus, he clearly wanted to just forget our little fling ever happened. I mean, he’d talked about changing jobs for Christ’s sake. And ever since then, I’d been careful not to look at him too long or stand too close or give any indication that I wasn’t as over this as he was. Because as bad as things were, it would be infinitely worse if he were just gone altogether.

Yeah. I’d tell him if I had to. No need to bring it up if it wasn’t actually an issue.

I excused myself, said goodbye to Eric and Garrick both. Then I went back to pretending. At least my education was getting put to some use, even if I never managed to do anything else with it. It taught me how to lie.

T
HE LAST DAY
of school before Spring Break, I woke up exhausted and was so cold that I wore a sweater to Garrick’s class, even though it was spring in Texas. It was pretty obvious, or it should have been, but I was so pre-occupied with surviving the day and getting to the break that I pushed aside my unease.

Garrick let us go early, but not before saying, “Sorry to give you guys homework over the break, but when you come back—I want a definitive plan for what you’re doing on May 23rd, which for those of you not looking at your calendar is the day after your graduation.”

Dom snickered behind me, “Does still being drunk from the night before count as a definitive plan?”

I didn’t even have the energy to roll my eyes.

“Some of you I will see tonight at rehearsal, and the rest—have a great spring break! Don’t get arrested or married or any of that kind of thing! Enjoy the rest of your day.”

I think there was clapping, but my head felt a little fuzzy. I packed up my things, and decided I didn’t really need to go to the rest of my classes today. I should go home and take a nap. A nap sounded good. I’d be fine after I slept a little longer.

I felt dizzy as I tottered toward the door.

I hadn’t realized everyone was gone until Garrick and I were alone, and he asked, “Are you okay, Bliss?”

I nodded. My head felt like it was full of cotton.

“Just tired,” I told him. I was coherent enough to make sure my response was carefully neutral—not needy or bitchy. “Thanks though, have a good break!” My voice sounded far away, and it took all of my concentration to get out of the doors and to my car.

The drive home was a mystery. There had definitely been driving, but I couldn’t remember the streets or ever turning the wheel, but then I was in front of my apartment, so close to my bed.

I wanted to fall right into it, but my neurotic need to hang a calendar right beside my bed reminded me I had rehearsal tonight. I set one alarm for 5 P.M. so I’d have time to fix dinner before hand, and I set another for 5:05 P.M. just in case I accidentally turned off the first. Then the bed caved in around me, and I was tumbling head long into oblivion.

Minutes later, the world was screaming and it was so loud that I tried to press my hands against my ears, but they were dead, lifeless at my side. I swallowed, and my tongue felt barbed, my throat burned like chapped lips.

Rolling over felt like moving mountains.

The clock read 5:45
P.M
.

I blinked and read it again.

5:45
P.M
.

The world was still screaming and finally,
finally
I lifted my hands and pushed at my alarm until the noise stopped.

I swallowed again, but my tongue felt too big. My spit singed like acid on its way down.

Dazed, I looked at the clock again. I was out of time. Rehearsal started in fifteen minutes. Somehow . . . I don’t know how, really . . . I pushed myself out of bed. My legs quivered like the floor was a boat and beneath it the sea. There were things I needed to do . . . I knew that, but I couldn’t think beyond that nagging sense that there was something I was missing. And it was so cold, where was my coat? I needed my coat.

Wrapped in the warmest things I could find, I lurched outside toward my car. The world turned for a second, like a child refusing to sit still. I stuck a hand out to steady myself, but there was nothing there to catch me. I pitched sideways. I didn’t fall, but managed to catch myself, barely. I stared at the ground; I was just so tired. Would it be so bad to be there? On the ground?

It was so cold though. I really should go inside if I was going to lay down . . . or in my car. Did I have time for a nap in my car?

I shook my head, trying to clear the fog, and something awful rattled around in my skull. It hurt. God, it hurt. I pressed at it with my hands, trying to understand why, and I swallowed again, which hurt, too. Everything hurt. Everything.

I couldn’t stand up anymore. Standing was too hard. I was almost to the ground, reaching for it, thinking the asphalt would be warm against my cheek when something hooked me from behind.

I kept reaching, but I was caught, a fish dangling on a line.

I began to cry because my head was pounding and my throat was clamped down like iron. I still wanted my coat, and I didn’t want to be a fish, and I wanted to sleep.

Sleep.

Someone was telling me that I was okay. The hook was gone, and my pillow held me once more, and I must have been dreaming. Sleep.

Sleep perchance to dream.

S
OMETHING BUZZED.
I
thought of bees. I was flying with bees.

“ . . . Be okay. I can’t tell how bad, but she definitely has a fever. She’s not coherent at all. Mono, yeah. Should I take her to the hospital? Are you sure? You’re sure. Okay. Yes. Bye. ”

I reached a hand out. There were too many words. Bees shouldn’t talk. That didn’t make sense. Where was I?

“Where?” I groaned, then, “Ow,” because everything still hurt even after sleep. My hand found something. Or something found my hand. And it was warm. And I was freezing. I sighed. The warmth found my cheek and I pushed into it, wanting more.

“So cold,” I told the warmth.

And then the warmth answered, low and soft, “ I don’t know what to do.”

I clutched the warmth that held my face and asked, “More.”

Then the warmth left, even though I tried to hold on. Air blew past me, and I was shaking, shaking, shaking. I cried and the tears felt like rivers of ice.

“Cold,” I said. I swallowed, but that felt worse instead of better. I hated this. I wanted it to be over. Please. Please.

Please.

“Please.”

“I’m here, love. Hold on.”

The world fell over, bent sideways, broken. And it cradled me, taking me with it, but instead of dying, I fell into warmth, solid and strong. I clutched at it, wanting to be inside it, to make the shaking stop, to make everything stop.

It was the sun, and it held me in its arms, called me by name, touched me from forehead to toes. I fell asleep cradled in the sky in the arms of a star.

W
HEN
I
WOKE
next, my head was clear enough to know that I was sick. I had to breathe through my nose because my throat was too swollen, too tender to stand the passage of air. My muscles ached and my stomach felt hollow. I was still cold, but not frozen solid. Thawed. Sleep called me again. I was still so tired.

But I knew, knew what that meant.

I had gotten mono after all.

Which meant I had to tell Garrick. But that could wait until my head wasn’t bursting and my lungs felt full and my throat was not on fire. Once the fever broke, I would call him.

I shifted, wishing that my knees and my elbows and shoulders would just cease to exist because right now they were nothing, but pain. And then, I knew I was dreaming, that the fever had re-arranged my brain because Garrick was there beneath me, his bare chest my pillow. It was cruel, this fever. But I knew it was only because I had thought of him. I was probably still dreaming.

His eyes were open, staring at me, not speaking, just staring. Couldn’t be real.

“Wish it was real,” I whimpered, before giving in again.

Sleeping.

Sleeping.

W
HEN
I
WOKE
again, the chills had stopped, and I was alone. Even though I knew it was a dream, I pressed my face into my pillow, wishing it hadn’t been.

I hadn’t noticed until now, or maybe just hadn’t admitted it, but even now I was falling for Garrick. Maybe I had never stopped falling. Every memory and fantasy pulled me deeper into wanting him. Though still exhausted, this time I had to work to fall back in to sleep.

“Bliss, wake up.”

No time had passed at all. It must be a dream.

“You need to drink something. Wake up.”

I tried to turn away, to crawl deeper into sleep, but something tugged against me, and I was sitting up against my will. Something pushed at my back, refusing to let me lay down, so instead I leaned sideways.

My head met something solid. It wasn’t laying down, but it was close enough. I closed my eyes.

“Oh, no you don’t. Drink first. Then you can sleep.”

I was sleeping. At least, I thought I was. I must have been because out of nowhere a cup appeared in my hands. It was warm, almost as warm as the other hands wrapped around mine.

It smelled wonderful, and I let the cup be pulled to my lips.

Soup.

Chicken noodle, maybe. It tasted salty and warm, but swallowing was too hard. I pushed the cup away.

“Please, love. I’m worried about you. I don’t like worrying about you.”

I knew those words, and it was cruel for my subconscious to parrot them back at me now, when he was no longer worried at all. I looked up, and there he was, perhaps even more perfect in my dream state than in real life. He was the sun. He’d always been the sun—shining and brilliant.

This was too much. I was hurting inside and out.

“I miss you,” I told my sun. “I was so stupid. And now I’ve lost the light.”

He didn’t say he missed me back. He didn’t say any of the things I would want from him. He told me, “Drink, Bliss. We’ll talk when you are well.”

I did as he asked because I was too tired to fight, too tired to make myself face the unreality. Slowly, I sipped, tipping my head back and letting the liquid slide down my throat so I didn’t have to work so hard to swallow. Halfway through the cup, I could take no more. I pushed it away and he let me.

“Now you can sleep. Sleep, love.”

I fell back against the pillows, but I was seized by something else, by fear. I feared losing this . . . this dream space between worlds where I hadn’t ruined anything. Maybe Cade would arrive next, and Kelsey. And for a little while, my life could be simple again.

Dream Garrick brushed a hand across my forehead. “I think your fever is almost gone. That’s good. You should feel much better in the morning.”

I frowned. “That means I’ll have to call you soon.”

“Call me?”

“To tell you that you might get sick, too.”

His head tilted sideways. Why didn’t he understand?

“You don’t think I already know?”

“Not you. You’re not real.”

“I’m not?”

“Real Garrick wouldn’t be here.” I curled into my pillow, wishing this dream would stop.

It wasn’t nice anymore. It wasn’t real. We weren’t anything to each other . . . not anymore.

But Dream Garrick, stayed there, his hand on my hair, and I let myself believe it, for a little while longer.