What's Done in Darkness (4 page)

He narrowed his eyes, and I could see the doubt. Like my sister, he didn't believe me.

“You know I didn't, baby,” I went on. “I wouldn't. I was angry about you and Michelle, yes, but—”

He pulled his hand from mine, dragged it over his face.“You always get so emotional, Jade. Too emotional.”

“I lost my dad. You think that's easy to deal with?”

“Yeah, but it's like you want to hang on to your pain, let the world know you're suffering.”

I said nothing, because I didn't know what to say. Wesley had both of his parents. He couldn't understand what I was going through.

“Damn it,” he uttered, and I knew what he was referring to. The thought that I had deliberately hurt myself.

“I didn't do this on purpose,” I stressed, my voice holding a pleading tone. How could he not believe me?

“No?” he challenged. “I mean, you did it before. And I saw that you were unraveling again.…”

“That was different. That was…” My voice trailed off.

“You can't hurt yourself just because things aren't working out for us.”

“I didn't do this on purpose,” I stressed, needing him to believe that. The one thing I hated more than anything was the way people seemed to believe that one bad decision on my part meant I would be a fragile flower for the rest of my life. “You know that the other time, it was about me losing my dad. My whole world had fallen apart. Honestly, I don't even think I was forming coherent thoughts. All I knew was that I wanted to be able to get some rest and forget.”

Wesley gave me a doubtful look.

“I made a stupid decision,” I admitted. “But I wasn't in my rational mind.”

“Just like yesterday.”

“No. Yesterday, I was angry.” I opened my palm, wishing he would take my hand again. “We can work things out,” I ventured, hoping that he'd had a change of heart since last night. Even if it was just that seeing me in this hospital bed was what made him realize he cared too much for me to let me go. “Obviously, you care. You heard about the accident, and you came.”

“Of course I came.”

I was emboldened by his response. “We can see each other every other weekend.”

Wesley's lips twisted. “I'm going to Seattle. It's not around the corner or just a couple of hours away.”

“That's why God invented airplanes,” I said, offering him a smile. “We can do this, baby.”

He blew out a harried breath. “It's like you didn't hear a word I said the other night.”

I swallowed. “I don't want to take a break. I don't want to test our relationship. It just seems stupid. Honestly, this won't even be an issue if I just apply for a transfer to a college in Seattle.”

“No.” He was shaking his head. “You spent all these years at UB. You should graduate at UB.”

“Fundamentally, I agree with you.” But for me, not graduating at UB wasn't the end of the world. My relationship with Wesley was more important than where I finished school. “That's why I'm willing to travel to see you.”

“It's just … so much work.”

Not if you love
me.…

“When you're done school,” he went on, “it will be so much easier. And we'll know for sure how we feel about each other.”

I started to tear up. “I already know how I feel about you.”

“I don't want to rehash this conversation. Long-distance relationships are hard. I think we'll both be happier knowing there's no pressure to stay committed.”

My jaw tensed. “That way, you can screw whoever you want.”

“Jade—”

“Did you already fuck Michelle?”

Wesley shook his head, but it was more in reaction to my question rather than a denial of what I'd asked him.

“This isn't about Michelle. I love you … you know I do.” He paused, took a breath as if he was measuring his words carefully, and then continued. “But how many people actually end up with their college sweethearts for the rest of their lives?”

And as I stared at Wesley, at the boyfriend I'd started dating my sophomore year, it felt like I didn't know him at all. Who was this person at my bedside, and why was he saying these things?

“Lots of people,” I told him. “Because they love each other, and they make an effort to work things out.”

“Maybe in a romance novel,” Wesley said. “But this is real life.”

The tears threatened to spill from my eyes, but I willed them to stay put. “I can't believe you.”

“You know that next year on campus some cute dude is gonna step to you and you're gonna be flattered. Do you really want to be attracted to him but have to worry about staying faithful to me?” He paused. “If we're meant to be, we'll be. Let's take the year to figure things out—without any strings. If, after that time, we're missing each other like crazy, then we'll know.”

A year … it seemed like a lifetime. One I couldn't bear to spend apart from him. How could he bear to be away from me?

As I stared at Wesley, my chest filling with pain, I began to hate him. Because how was it that we'd dated for two years, had been a tight couple at UB, and now he was letting distance force us apart?

“Get out,” I said, an angry whisper.

His eyes narrowed in response to my statement, but he stayed put.

“I said
get out
.”

“Jade—”

“You want to take a break from me, you may as well start now. I don't need you coming here out of pity.”

“This wasn't pity. I still care what happens to you.”

“Really?” I snapped. I wanted to punch him. “Get out already.” I glared at him. “
Get out!
Get out! Get out! Get out!”

Wesley sprang to his feet, his eyes volleying between the room's door and me. He was panicked, as though he feared someone would come in and think he'd done something to harm me.

Which he had.

The man I had loved for two years had broken my heart.

 

CHAPTER FOUR

Over the next couple of weeks, the proverbial dust settled, but I didn't feel much better.

I was getting used to my new reality, one where Wesley wasn't in my life. Oh, he still claimed it wasn't an official split, and he called and texted every few days from Seattle, but clearly things weren't the same between us. In fact, the more I heard from him, the more it hurt. Because inevitably I would ask if he'd changed his mind, only to learn that he hadn't.

I was in a funk. But trying to move forward.

I'd moved out of my dorm room and was back home with my sister, where I felt like I was walking on eggshells all the time. Because every time I got even a little emotional, she treated me like a baby. Fussing over me and telling me to talk about my feelings so that she would know I was okay.

“I'm not suicidal,” I'd told her one day when her concern was too much for me to bear. “I messed up; I know I did. But that's all.”

I know she didn't believe me, and I supposed I couldn't blame her. Looking at the situation objectively, I did appear unpredictable. I'd lost control when our dad died. Then I'd lost control again at the graduation. But I was seeing things more clearly now, and I was trying to move on with my life and deal with the reality of having a long-distance relationship.

A couple of days later, I was in my room lying on the bed with a book when there was a knock on my door. I looked up to see Marie entering, wearing her nurse scrubs, and was surprised that she was home at this hour.

“Hey,” she said.

“Why are you home at noon? Aren't you in the middle of your shift?”

Marie walked into the room. “I can't take another day of coming home to see you sulking, so I decided to do something about it.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Sulking?”

“You know you're depressed.”

I did my best not to roll my eyes. “Something like what?”

“I spoke to a friend of mine—we both pledged the Alpha Sigma Pi sorority at UB. She's from Atlanta, but she's now living in Florida where she recently started her own business. It's a small coffee shop, catering to tourists. As we got to talking, she was saying that she could really use some help. And I ended up telling her that my sister could really use a job. She was excited. She said my call to her must have been intuition, because two of her staff quit a few days ago and she's been running ragged.”

“You suggested to a friend in Florida that I'd work for her?” I asked.

“I'm sure it's not what you want to do for the summer,” Marie said. “But it's a job. And more important, it will get you away from here.”

I made a face as I looked at Marie. “You're worried that if I stick around here I'm going to what? Jump off a bridge? How many times do I have to tell you that I'm not going to hurt myself before you believe me?”

“I didn't say that. But … I'd be lying if I didn't say I wasn't worried about your mental health. A change of scenery is always a great thing after a breakup.”

We didn't break up,
I almost said, but didn't bother to explain that fact again. Maybe it would seem like I was clinging to Wesley in an unhealthy way, but I had decided to take him at his word. And the last thing he'd told me, even though I'd sent him running from the hospital room, was that this wasn't a permanent break. If he said he wanted to test the strength of our relationship, then that's how I needed to see our time apart. Because when I didn't believe that, that's when I started to feel despair.

It wasn't just the loss of Wesley that I was feeling but also the loss of my best friend. I hadn't heard from Michelle since the incident at graduation. Of course, she had unfriended me on Facebook. Nonetheless, I'd tried to reach out to her, but she hadn't responded to my texts or my social media messages.

“I know you don't always agree with me,” Marie began, “but I think this will be good for you. Even Lucy said that you should do something for yourself. And Florida? Palm trees, sand … what's not to like?”

Lucy was my therapist. The one I'd seen after the pill incident and the one my sister had dragged me to see after I got out of the hospital.

Though in part I resented my sister arranging to have me go to Florida, I was nonetheless intrigued by the idea. Putting my book down, I sat cross-legged on the bed. “Florida's a beautiful state. But damn, it's got to be hot now.”

“But it's got beautiful beaches you can enjoy. Let's face it—the scenery will be a lot better than here.” When I didn't say anything, Marie sat down on the bed beside me. “I know you've been frustrated with me, thinking that I'm treating you with kid gloves.”

“You have. I'm not a basket case, even if I've made mistakes.”

“I think that Florida will be good for both of us. I know things have been stressful these last couple of weeks because we haven't had our own space. Trust me, if I didn't have my job here, I'd jump at the opportunity to go to Key West.”

Yes, things had been stressful—but not in the typical way. Ever since I'd come home from the hospital, Marie hadn't been her usual abrasive self. We may have been sisters, but we didn't always get along. We could fight like cats and dogs. Something that hadn't happened since I'd come out of the hospital. Even when Marie and I had a disagreement, Marie didn't raise her voice. Instead, she tried to mollify me.

Which only annoyed me more. Because it told me that she believed I was lying. Lying about being okay mentally.

“You're not saying anything. You think it's a bad idea?” Marie asked cautiously.

“I didn't say it was a bad idea.” Perhaps it was a good idea for me to go away, branch out on my own, and do something different. Show my sister—and Wesley—that I wasn't this fragile flower they all thought I was.

“It's just a lot to process,” I went on. “I wasn't expecting it.” I gave her a pointed look. “And I don't expect you to call in favors from friends on my behalf.”

Marie offered me a sheepish smile. “Okay. You got me. But bottom line, you have a job if you want it. She knows it's only for the summer, because I told her you're going back to school in the fall.”

My sister, older than me by six years, spoke as I imagined my mother would. Making sure to guide my decisions. I didn't remember much of my mother, because I'd been so young when she had died.

“Katrina said that she'll be grateful for the help,” Marie went on, “for as long as she can have it.”

“Florida,” I said softly, more to myself.

“And Key West, Florida,” Marie stressed. “We're not talking Orlando here, with hordes of children and no ocean breeze. You've always liked writing. Ernest Hemingway lived in Key West for a long time. Maybe you'll get some inspiration and actually write that novel you've been talking about.”

The idea was growing on me. Maybe Marie was right. Sunshine, blue skies, the ocean. I could do a lot worse for the summer.

And I just might find that inspiration I needed to do some serious writing. I knew I loved stories and that I wanted to write a novel, yet I could never find the time to write a word. Not with school papers and Wesley and friends and other distractions. As well, Lucy said it would be a good idea for me to start journaling. She said that putting all of my emotions down on paper would be healing.

Perhaps there was no better place to heal than Key West.

“I'll go,” I said.

Marie beamed, as though I'd just agreed to go into rehab. “Great. I'll let Katrina know.”

*   *   *

“I'm going to miss you,” Marie said a couple of days later, hugging me hard as I stood outside of the Chevy Malibu that had once belonged to our dad. It was mine to borrow for the trip to Florida, which I supposed spoke volumes. My sister trusted me to get behind a steering wheel again.