E. Blair - Falling

“How much?” I ask, fearing the words that come next.

“Everything.”

He follows me upstairs, and as I help him pack her clothes and dance stuff, it’s like I’m packing up parts of me that she helped me find. Without her, I just don’t know who I am anymore. I can’t even wrap my head around what’s going on right now.

I go into the bathroom to get her belongings, but I keep a few of her things, including her bottle of perfume. I can’t let him take all of her away from me, so I leave them on the counter as I carry her other items out and pack them in her bag.

I watch as Jase zips it up and slings it over his shoulder. Before he walks out, he steps next to me and says, “I’m sorry.”

Nodding my head, because I can’t speak with the pain in my chest, he adds, “I’ll try talking to her for you. You’re a good guy and the only reason why she was able to be happy after what happened to her,” before walking out of my room and out the front door to head back to where I left my heart—with Candace.

Turning to face the bed, I look at the mussed up sheets where I held her last night. I tell myself that she just needs time. That when she calms down, I’ll be able to explain everything and we can work this out. Because we just have to.

Walking over to her side, I sit on the edge of the bed and see her necklace on the nightstand. She never takes it off, but here it lies. When I reach over to pick it up, I notice the chain is broken. I run my finger over the stamped words and wonder if we’re broken too.

“Baby, please. I know you’re upset with me, and you have every right. I fucked up, but I love you. Please call me back. Let me talk to you and explain everything. I miss you.”

I hang up the phone after leaving another voicemail for her. I’ve been calling and texting for the past few days, but I get nothing in response. It kills me to think that I might not ever hear her voice again, but each day that passes without being able to talk to her confirms what I don’t want to accept because it can’t be over. This can’t be it.

I went out yesterday to get her necklace fixed. I didn’t like the idea of it remaining broken. I can only hope that she’ll one day wear it again, but for now, it lies on the counter in my bathroom by her perfume.

I decided to come into work today because I’m going crazy at home. I need the distraction, and when I get here, I head upstairs. Max’s office door is open, and when I stop in, he says, “Hey, man. Been trying to call you.”

“Sorry. Things have been crazy,” I tell him as I sit down in front of his desk.

“Dude, I don’t even know what to say. Shit was insane when you left the other night.”

“Yeah?” I ask, but that night feels like it was weeks ago instead of days. So much has happened, and my thoughts haven’t been on anything but Candace.

“The cops came by later that night.”

“What did you tell them?”

“Just that I didn’t know who the fuck started the fight. That by the time I made it inside they were gone. There were so many people here that they weren’t gonna waste their time asking around, so you’re good.”

“Thanks, man,” I say. “What happened when I left?”

Leaning back in his seat, he tells me, “I dragged his ass out back and kicked the shit out of him before slamming him into the dumpster. He was fucked up. Bad.”

I don’t even know how to feel about all of this because it all just hurts. Every part of it. It all came crashing down so fast.

“How’s Candace?”

“I don’t know. She won’t talk to me.”

“Why? What happened?”

Dropping my head to the side, I rest it in my hand, telling him, “She found out about me being the one who found her that night. She bailed, and I haven’t heard from her since the day after the fight.”

He shakes his head, confused, and questions, “You told her?”

“No. I talked to Jase. He said she had spoken with the detective on the case, and he had told her who the witness was . . . me . She took the call while I was still asleep, and when I woke, she was gone.”

“Fuck,” he sighs out.

“I really fucked this up.”

Leaning his arms on the desk, he asks, “What are you gonna do?”

“I dunno, man. I keep calling and texting, but knowing her, she’s probably just deleting them.”

“Maybe she just needs time.”

“Yeah,” I say as I stand up. “Maybe. I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

I spend the rest of the day buried in work that Max should be doing, but I need to keep busy, so I take it off his hands and work late into the night.

I finally talked to my mom last night after avoiding her calls. She was upset, hating that Candace had to find out from someone other than me. But I can’t keep asking myself what if. It is what it is, and I can’t go back because if I could, I would have done it all differently.

It’s been two weeks—and nothing. I call her everyday—and nothing. I’m going crazy, practically living at the bar, hiding in my office, and doing what I can to keep busy. I wound up hanging out with Jase and Mark the other day when they came up for drinks.

They’re my only connection to her, but they are also genuine friends and I don’t want to let go of that. Aside from Max, they’re friends that I’ve connected with on a more authentic level than I have in the past. I don’t want to go back to what I had before I met them. Candace showed me what it was to connect, and I’m not going to trash that. I can’t.

When there’s a knock at my door, I open it to find Jase standing there.

“Hey, man. What’s up?” I say as he walks in.

“Nothing. What are you up to?”

“Not a damn thing,” I tell him. “Wanna beer?”

“Nah, I’m good,” he says as he takes a seat in my living room. “How have you been?”

“How do you think I’ve been?” I respond as I fall back on the couch, kicking my feet onto the coffee table.

“I can’t get her to talk to me,” he admits.

“Join the club.”

“I’m serious, man. She won’t leave her house. I’m worried.”

“Why are you telling me this?” I ask, because all his words do is hurt me.

“Maybe if she could hear you explain yourself . . .”

“You don’t think I’ve tried? Dude, I call her every single day. She won’t talk to me.”

“Go over there,” he says.

“If she’s not returning my calls or texts, she’s not gonna let me in.”

“She needs to talk to you. Take my key and just go. She needs to hear you ‘cause she’s shutting us all out,” he says. “You should see her. She looks awful.”

I watch as he slides her house key off his key ring and then sets it on the table.

“I don’t know, man. I don’t wanna hurt her.”

“She’s already hurting. You’re the only one who has ever really gotten through to her in the past. Just try?”

Staring at the bronze key lying there, I’d be an idiot to not take it. If only just to get a look at her. Anything. I’m desperate, so I take it.

“Thanks, man,” he says before heading out.

Pulling into her driveway, I already feel my anxiety welling up. I don’t know what I’m about to walk into, but I know she’s inside, and I’m desperate to see her. When I ring the doorbell, it takes a moment before I hear that voice I’ve been missing so much, but her words are nearly lifeless when she says, “Go away.”

“You won’t return any of my calls, babe. Please, let me talk to you.”

She doesn’t respond, and when I use the key to unlock the door, she turns to me and yells, “What are you doing?!”