Someone to Stay Page 9

  Gruffly, Cassie crossed her arms, eyes wandering to the truck that was heating up, the sound of the engine loud in the still, wintry day. It was the day after Christmas - Boxing Day, as her dad had told her this morning, although what that meant she wasn’t sure, because they were going ice skating, not boxing.

  She wandered off the porch, making fresh footprints in the snow. They’d awoken this morning to a foot of it - it had to be some kind of record, because Cassie couldn’t remember the last time they had this much snow for Christmas. For about the hundredth time, she made a mental list of all the gifts she’d gotten the day before - her stationary, her bracelet making bead set, the doll house with actual wooden furniture that her dad said he made himself, the pocket dolls and roller skates for summer and even a brand new bike...

  “Okay, kiddo! Let’s go!”

  She turned, the usual expression of joy when she heard his voice plastered on her face. Excitedly, she went to the truck, climbing in and buckling up.

  Her dad joined her, buckling in as well and turning on the radio to his favorite station - sports. Cassie rolled her eyes. When her mom was the one driving, they got to listen to rock n’ roll and the 80s. Cassie knew all the words to just about every song they played on those stations.

  “Are you excited to ice skate?” he asked after a while, and Cassie nodded.

  “Yes. But I’m a little scared I’ll fall.”

  It was her greatest fear - she knew that the ice would hurt.

  “Well, you probably will fall, but I’ll pick you back up. Ice skating is easy. You’ll catch on quick.”

  “What if I break the ice?”

  “The ice is really thick. You won’t. They wouldn’t let you on it if there was a chance of that happening.”

  Nodding, Cassie sat back, looking out the slightly frosted windows. She crossed her arms again, pulling her coat sleeves down so her hands could curl inside of them, creating a small cocoon of warmth. Her dad had quelled her two biggest fears - for now. Her mind wandered and raced around the idea that she was about to step onto a huge sheet of ice with nothing more than a thin blade to keep her upright, but she had already agreed to go. It would be no use to back out of it now.

  It was not a long drive to the pond, and before she knew it, they were parked and her dad was bringing her to an iced over bench for them to use to slip off their boots and pull their ice skates on. There were a lot of people on the ice - even little kids, way younger than Cassie, and she scrunched her face in determination that if a baby could ice skate, then so could she.

  Leaving their boots in a small corner under the bench, her dad held his hand out and helped her stomp their way over to the pond. The expanse of ice was somewhat frightening to her - she had never been on a frozen sheet of water and could barely believe it when she took her first, tentative step onto it. She immediately felt resistance, her foot wanting to give in and slide, but her dad held her close and steady.

  When both her feet were on the ice, she felt a sense of helplessness that she couldn’t just walk off of it. She gripped her dad’s hand tighter.

  “The first step to ice skating is to figure out your balance,” he said then, and let go of her hand momentarily to pull her left arm up, and then her right, straight out like she was pretending she was about to fly.

  “I’m going to fall,” Cassie said.

  “Do you feel like you’re about to fall?”

  Standing there with her arms straight out like that and feeling quite dumb, Cassie had to admit that she didn’t feel like she was about to fall...yet.

  “No.”

  “See? And even if you do, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll help you up. Now, start by going very slowly. Don’t go too fast.”

  Not entirely sure what to do, Cassie began to slide her feet on the ice in an attempt to move forward. Her dad chuckled a bit.

  “No, no - do it like this.”

  He was about to demonstrate, but Cassie held her hand up.

  “Hang on - hang on. I have to take this.”

  Turning away from him, she pulled her phone out, forgetting where she was for a moment and realizing that she was in a stark white room, a window overlooking a busy street with cars and people and noises and bikes.

  “Hey, Luke.”

  “Cassie, I’ve been trying to text you. What’s going on?”

  Heart lurching in her chest, she looked over at her father, half awake and staring, dazed, at the television.

  “I’m at the hospital. I told you I’d be here today.”

  She tried to keep her voice quiet - anything louder than a whisper seemed disproportionately loud here, where the nurses rushed back and forth on their tip toes and always seemed so hushed. She stole a glance at her mom, who was sitting next to her father, gripping his bony hand and staring at her.

  “I’m sorry, I forgot.” His voice sounded muffled, distant. “I was worried when I didn’t hear from you.”

  “Well, I’m fine,” she snapped, and she looked away from her mom, who’s expression had broadened into one of concern.

  “Woah, I said I was sorry.”

  “I’ve got to go, okay? I’ll talk to you later.”

  Hanging up the phone, she shoved it into her pocket, unwilling to feel guilty for cutting Luke off like that. Her mom’s face was a question mark, but Cassie only shook her head, crossing her arms and refusing to look at her father anymore.

  He’d been here for two weeks. Two weeks of up-down-up-down that felt like a suspenseful ploy. She felt so numbed at this point that she wished it would end - and then felt a strong wave of disgust at herself for thinking that. Because, for her father, the end of this meant only one thing.

  “Cassie.”

  Her father’s voice, which was so rare to hear these days, sounded cracked from disuse. She whipped her head around to look at him, finding it difficult to do so.

  “Cassie, you’re...” He broke off his words with a dry cough, and her mom leaned in closer toward him. His eyes focused on her, the most lucidity she’d seen from him in days.

  “What is it, dad?”

  “You’re a failure.”

  Cassie awoke with a start, sitting up in bed and gasping.

  It was terrible, that feeling of desolation and desperation she felt, that remorse and grief and pain. Pulling her hands up, she scrunched them over her face, feeling tears there.

  Fragments of her dream came back - the ice skating, a real memory, brought fresh and clear before her eyes. She had forgotten that day, the day after Christmas when she was maybe eight or nine. Such a long time ago; another life. She could still hear the sounds of the dozens of ice skates sliding and scraping across the pond, the sounds of families together.

  But the other part, the hospital...

  Lying back in bed, on her back, she stared at the dark ceiling. That memory was real too, or at least parts of it: she could remember her father, after radiation and after chemo, practically wasting away on the hospital bed. That conversation with Luke, that was also real; she remembered apologizing to him for it afterward, but breaking up with him four days later, the day after her dad died.

  But what her dad had said, what the dream said he said...that was not real.

  A substantial amount of sorrow hit her then - when was the last time she had thought about any of this? Before, when she had these dreams, she’d brush it off, bury it deep - and she’d been doing such a good job of doing so. Since Sam had practically busted down her door the previous fall, Cassie had managed to find a way to erase the pain she felt in the wake of the loss - that is, until Jake walked into her life.

  Thinking of Sam like that hurt. Remembering her fight with Sam didn’t help anything, either. Rolling over, Cassie huffed, the pain she’d felt last night returning with thoughts of their argument, a wound reopened.

  She wasn’t sorry. She couldn’t be sorry. Sam knew what she was saying, what it would make her feel. And these thoughts burned Cassie as they raced round and round her head, her eyes
fixated on her window.

  And Jake...

  She closed her eyes, his face popping into view in her mind’s eye, his kindness and grace and that strange way he made her open up all personified in her imagination, all plastered brightly and vividly there. She wished she could call him now - she hadn’t told him about the argument with Sam, not wanting to bring him down or make him worried, but she wished she could do so without feeling guilty about it. What was he doing now, she wondered? Was he asleep, or was he also lying awake, wishing he could talk to her, see her?

  Their date wasn’t so very long away - just two days. Maybe when she saw him in person she could tell him about what happened, after dinner so as to not spoil it, and maybe hear his advice.

  But doing that would require confiding in him, explaining things to him she’d rather not speak aloud.

  She was tired. She could feel sleep creeping in on her, claiming her. And it was with jumbled thoughts of dreams and Jake and fights and pain that she fell into it, and could remember nothing else.

  7.

  Nervously, Cassie smoothed down her dress, regarding herself in the mirror one last time.

  She didn’t usually do dresses, but the knee length A-line dress she dug out of her closet would have to do. It was one of her favorites, - creamy teal and black dotted on heavy fabric, not one of those thin cheap things you find at bargain stores. She refused to wear heels, though, and hoped Jake didn’t mind. Her feet slid easily into a pair of black flats and she sat on her bed, waiting for his text.

  Her mom was downstairs, knitting again. She tried to think of a viable lie as to where she was going dressed like this but couldn’t. She hoped her mom wouldn’t look too closely at her as she came down the stairs - once she was on the landing, she was beyond her mom’s line of sight from her chair.

  She nearly laughed to herself at this ridiculous train of thought. What was she, 16? Why was she even doing this? There was nothing to hide from her mom. She could just tell her she had a date with a guy named Jake that she had met - maybe her mom wouldn’t put two and two together. And what if she did, anyway? Did it matter? Her mom didn’t Facebook, didn’t gossip.

  The sound of the doorbell ringing startled her, and she stood up quickly, knowing exactly who it was but feeling very nervous.

  She hadn’t even reached the hallway when she heard the sounds of shuffling, of the door creaking and steps in the foyer. She literally felt blood draining from her face at the thought of Jake walking into her house at her mother’s invitation, and then she heard the familiar sound of her mom’s voice intermingling with Jake’s which seemed so out of place and yet comforting.

  “Cassie?” she heard as she reached the steps, her mom’s voice tinged with a hint of amusement.

  “I’m coming,” Cassie said, as she made her way down the steps. Seeing Jake in her foyer was incredibly off-putting and strange; she swallowed and stepped onto the landing, facing the two of them. It was an incongruent picture: Jake in what she would call business casual, slate slacks and a light blue dress shirt, more expensive than her entire wardrobe put together, she was sure, but he pulled it off without looking like an ass; her mom in her faded jeans and a Steelers t-shirt that had a couple bleach stains on it.

  “Hi there,” she said lamely, smiling with a certain level of forced enthusiasm. Not that she wasn’t happy to see Jake - her eyes lingered on him for probably a touch too long, actually, given that her mother was standing right beside him. But the sight of him after five days without seeing him reminded her of what she had almost forgotten: the tall, lean length of him, the piercing stare that held her own, that delicate curve of his mouth. She wondered, as her feet touched the landing, what it would be like to kiss that mouth. The thought gave her a strange buzz, and she forced her gaze to her mother.

  “So, Cassie,” her mom said pointedly. “You have me at a disadvantage.”

  Cassie’s face burned; she refused to look at Jake as she smiled even wider, her cheeks straining from the effort. Why didn’t Jake just text her he was here like a normal person?

  “Yeah...mom, this is Jake, Jake Mason. He’s here to take me on a date. Jake, this is my mom. Jessica Mills.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Jake said then, extending his hand and smiling in that familiar charming way. Her mom, however, seemed unfazed by this and smiled pleasantly back.

  “Cassie has said literally nothing about you,” she said as they shook. “I’m very surprised, but of course, I’m very happy to meet you.”

  Jake laughed, the sound of it so natural and effortless. Cassie knew that her mother was hurt - her tone may not say it, but her words did. Jake saw Cassie’s forlorn expression, she was certain of it, but he looked away quickly.

  “Mrs. Mills, I have to admit that I asked Cassie to keep it a little quiet - perhaps she took my words too terribly to heart? You see, I don’t make it a habit to ask out every girl that serves me dinner, but your Cassie was so charming that I couldn’t resist.”

  Her mom laughed at this, her face a genuine picture of delight. Cassie couldn’t believe that Jake had just lied to her mother so flawlessly. “Oh, yes,” her mom said. “I know all about her charm. I’m proud of her.”

  Jake and her mom at this point decided it was high time to both look at Cassie, and her eyes flitted back and forth between the two of them. Jake’s expression was amused, the smile on his face meeting his eyes. Her mom’s warm; the earlier slight was forgotten.

  “Well,” Cassie said then, forcing another smile. “I guess it’s time to go, right? We have a reservation.”

  Jake nodded.

  “Ah - yes. Yes, Mrs. Mills, we have a reservation. It was so nice to meet you. I hope you have a nice evening.”

  Cassie met her mom’s eye on the way out - the unmistakable expression on her face that said plainly, We will talk about this later.

  Once the door was closed behind them they walked off the porch and into the evening, the sun low across the river near the tree-line, making their way to his car, marked as a rental by the sticker in the window. She went to reach for the door but was blocked by his arm opening it for her.

  “Oh - thank you,” Cassie said, surprised.

  They both buckled in, and Jake started the car, the quiet sound of the engine breaking the stark silence within.

  “I can’t make our date a surprise because I don’t know the way,” he said, reaching his hand toward the touch screen of the vehicle, long fingers pressing for the GPS.

  Cassie giggled. “I forgive you.”

  She wanted to ask him why he rang the doorbell - the words were actually on her tongue, ready to form and eager to come out, but she stopped herself. Looking at him now, his brow furrowed in concentration and his mouth in a perfect frown as the GPS beeped and beeped with his selections, she couldn’t bring herself to.

  “Maybe he’s too much of a gentleman.”

  Sam’s words, unexpected and unwelcome, flitted through her mind. Jake was a gentleman - she didn’t need Sam to tell her that.

  “Please drive to highlighted route,” came the precise, robotic voice from the car’s speakers. Cassie realized that she hadn’t even looked at all at where they were going and smiled.

  “Where are we going?”

  Jake’s eyes looked green in the evening light, and he smiled.

  “If you didn’t look, then I’m not spoiling it. Are you ready?”

  Cassie nodded and said with mock seriousness but with no shortage of innuendo, “I’m in your hands.”

  A wink was his only response, and he backed out of her driveway.

  “In a quarter of a mile, turn left onto Union Avenue.”

  “What did you think of my mom?” Cassie asked, taking herself by surprise.

  “She seems like a lovely woman,” Jake said. “I didn’t know that you hadn’t told her about me.”

  His comment was not accusatory; it was mild, factual. Cassie looked out the window at the familiar homes, the familiar street.
<
br />   “In two hundred feet, turn left onto Water Street.”

  “I didn’t know what you wanted.”

  “But you told Sam, didn’t you?”

  “I - I did,” Cassie said, remembering the argument with Sam. She felt a strange emptiness at the thought.

  “Then - why not your own mother?”

  It was then that she remembered that Jake was an actor - an acclaimed one, one that had won awards. She looked at him, his eyes on the road, both hands gripping the steering wheel, the only sounds to hear the ones the tires made against the road. It frustrated her to not know if he was upset and playing it off, or if he genuinely didn’t care. She shrugged.

  “I just didn’t...I just didn’t know what to say to her.” She paused a beat, and then asked, “Are you upset?”

  “Turn right on Market Street.”

  Jake stopped at the light and looked at her.

  “Cassie...no. I’m not upset. I completely understand your reluctance to tell your mum about me.”

  His voice, his eyes...Cassie tried to look away but couldn’t. Without thinking, she reached her hand out and gripped his leg, right above his knee. With surprise, he glanced down, his right hand leaving the steering wheel to rest on it, the warmth delicious and intimate, and he turned his gaze toward her lazily, lips turned in a small smile.

  The light turned green. His eyes went back to the road.

  “I didn’t tell you before, but you look beautiful.”

  His words caused her heart to pick up its pace, her stomach twisting in a hefty knot. She turned her head toward the window, her hand not leaving its place on his leg, uncertain what to say.

  “It’s an old dress.”

  She felt him squeeze his hand on hers, heard him chuckle.

  “It suits you.”

  She was blushing - she could feel it.

  “Well - you don’t look so bad yourself.”

  His hand still on the wheel, he dipped his head. “What...this old thing?”

  Cassie could see the mischief in his eye - she giggled.

  This was going to be a good night, she could feel it.