There Is No Light in Darkness (9 page)

“I know, babe. You liked him, but he wasn’t Cole.”

“Becky,” I groan. “It has nothing to do with Cole.”

“Of course not,” she replies sweetly. “So when are you moving over here?”

I smile at the change in topic and tell her how jealous Aubry is of her job location.

“I told him I could get him a job here, but he refuses to leave you behind,” she says.

Her idea sounds fabulous, but she knows I wouldn’t do it. Until I uncover the truths in my life full of lies, I’m stuck in Chicago.

“Why don’t you meet us in New York this weekend?” she asks.

“What are you going there for?”

“Greg has a scrimmage game against the Giants,” she says, yawning.

Greg is a running back for the San Diego Chargers. I usually see them when he comes to the East Coast for games, so I know she’s already expecting me to agree.

“Sure, I’ll meet you there then,” I reply with a smile.

“Awesome! I’m so excited now,” she squeals. “I can’t wait to tell Greg that his cowboy will be meeting us there. Tell Aubry!”

“Obviously,” I laugh. “You think he’s going to let me rub it in his face that I saw you and went to a game without him?”

After Becky and I hang up, I scroll through my phone. I don’t want to call Cole yet. Maybe I’ll call him next week when I’m back in business. I doubt he’ll let me get away with that. Knowing him, he’ll show up here and demand to know why I haven’t called. What’s worse is that Greg will probably tell him that I’m going to New York.

We’ve gone long periods of time without speaking. While we were both working on our undergrad, we barely said a word to each other. We kept in touch through our friends and saw each other on holidays but didn’t directly communicate with each other.

As I try to shake away thoughts of him with other girls, I pour myself some Lucky Charms and milk in a plastic cup. I switch on the TV and watch a rerun of Saved by the Bell: The College Years. I hate those episodes, but it’s better than the alternative shows that are on. Thoughts of Cole and Erin seep back into my memory. Her angry voice after he answered the phone during sex repeats itself in my head. I let out a breath and feel my stomach churn. When I look back down at my now-soggy Lucky Charms, I’m no longer hungry.

I try to sleep but give up after an hour of relentless turning. Maybe counting sheep only works at night. My cell phone rings a couple of times, but I don’t bother to get up and look at it. When the house phone rings, I sit up in bed. I look over at the cordless phone next to my bed and see Cole’s name light up on the caller ID. I groan and sink back in bed.

I hate the fact that we even have a house phone. We rarely use it anyway, and it’s just another way for people to have more places to contact us. When we installed our alarm system, we were told we needed one. The alarm system was my idea. Everybody thought it was dumb since we live in a condominium—an expensive one with a doorman—but I need to feel safe. When someone opens the front door or balcony doors, the little chime beeps. It annoys me sometimes, but it’s worth it.

I hear Cole’s deep velvety voice fill the emptiness in my room, and the butterflies in my stomach awaken. “Blake, Aubry told me you were home. Pick up the phone please. We need to talk. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you when you called yesterday. I …” he pauses and I hear rustling. “I’m sorry. I know you heard and I’m sorry. Please talk to me. It kills me when you shut me out. Call me—” The machine cut him off. Good.

After four years of not saying much to one another, when Cole and I started to speak again, we promised not to shut each other out again. Regardless of the girlfriends or boyfriends in our lives, we promised we’d be there for each other. We always put each other above everyone else in our lives. I feel bad for Erin because she is a sweet girl—even in times that I wouldn’t be. She seems to have as much patience as Cole does, which irks me. I would love to say I’m happy that Cole has such a great girl in his life—and deep, deep, deep inside I am. He’s my best friend. I want him to be happy. He deserves it, but still ...

He calls again, and I let the machine pick it up.

“Blake, please answer the phone. Please, baby,” he pleads hoarsely. My heart drops at the sound of his voice and I feel the tears I was holding back run down my face. I finally roll over on my stomach and pick up the phone.

“Hello?” I answer in a cracked voice before I clear my throat.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” he asks in a worried tone.

“Don’t call me that,” I whisper harshly. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Bullshit, Blake. What happened yesterday?”

“Nothing. I don’t want to talk about it.”

My heart starts racing as I look at the phone base and start recalling all those movies I’ve seen where the phones are being tapped. The thought of people watching Cole makes me want to wrap him up in cling wrap and tuck him into a corner of my underwear drawer. It hurts me to think of my loved ones being harmed, and Cole has been through enough. We all have, but I can take the pain.

“Cole, I need to call you back. I can’t be on the phone. I ... I’ll talk to you tomorrow or another day,” I say in a rush.

“What?” he exclaims. “What do you mean tomorrow or another day?” he emphasizes, growling the last two words.

“I gotta go, Cole,” I say quickly.

“Why? Talk to me, damn it,” he shouts angrily.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” I reply evenly.

“I know you’ve been crying, Blake.”

“Yeah, well, I’m always crying,” I sigh.

“No, you’re not. You never cry during the day.”

I laugh—a real laugh. That’s such a stupid thing to say. As if there’s a right time to cry.

“You’re an idiot. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Thanks for making me laugh,” I say with a smile as I shake my head in disbelief.

“You know what I mean,” he replies quickly, and I can picture him stopping in the middle of his pace wherever he is. “We’re not done talking, Blake. I need you to forgive me,” he whispers. My heart drops when he says that, and I close my eyes to stop fresh tears from flowing out.

“There’s nothing to forgive. I’m not the one you should be apologizing to,” I reply quietly.

He exhales into the phone. “You’re the only one that matters, baby.”

“Stop calling me that,” I say in a shaky voice. “I have to go.”

I hang up before he can say anything else. I make a mental note not to speak to him on the phone through the landline. I need to find out if people can tap cell phones. I look outside and smile at the cloudless day. I figure I might as well enjoy the warm weather while it’s here, so I decide to go to the park for a while before I head to the grocery store.

I walk around Grant Park and fill my insides with warm fresh air. I snap some photos for a couple of tourists and pick a spot to sit in. Herds of people are walking toward the river in their beach gear. It makes me wish I would have brought my bathing suit. I could use a tan. A couple of teenage boys are throwing their football around me. It makes me laugh, and I remember my teenage days and how no teenage boy would dare to get near me. Oh, Cole, you were such a dick back then. Still are.

When I get up, I saunter over a couple of steps to where the ball landed. I bend over, pick it up, and look up in time to see four ogling eyes. I laugh quietly and throw it back over to them. I’m not sure what they’re more impressed about—that I threw it back or that a pretty girl can throw a football. Either way, loud cheers, laughter, and a couple of “Tommy, she’s got a better arm than you!” break out all at once. I laugh loudly and tell them to have a good day as I walk away.

I head down the stairs of the train station and through the long hallway to wait for it. As I stand around listening to groups of teenagers talk about their summer adventures, I can’t help but wish I were their age again. I’d do anything to be young and naive. I would love to go back and slap myself for all the times I spent on Google and other sites trying to find out who my parents were—instead of enjoying my careless life. I look around and see a couple of homeless people, the same ones that are usually in this station. It makes me sad to think that they have nobody. I know I’m an orphan, but I have a family: Maggie, Greg, Becky, Aubry, and Cole. They’re my family, and they’re a damn good family. I wouldn’t trade them for the world.

I’m grateful that I have them in my life. I know I could be a totally messed up, angry, and depressed individual because of the cards I was dealt. Instead, Shelley helped shape me into a positive person, and Maggie continued to help me grow from there. I get sad sometimes. It makes me angry that I have nightmares. It makes me angry that someone took my family away from me without giving me a chance to enjoy them. I can’t imagine what it must have felt like for them though. I didn’t know what was happening—they did.

My wounds have somewhat healed, but it doesn’t mean I’m less frightened. I am scared of the unknown. I am scared to be alone. I am scared to not be alone. I am scared to have people love me, and I am scared to have nobody love me. I live my life in a constant state of fear and need for control. I try not to be obvious about any of my feelings. I put a smile on my face every morning and pretend that I’m as normal as everybody else—even though I know I’m not.

As I wait for the train, I replay Shelley’s letter in my head. My name is Catherine. Holy shit! By the time the train arrives, I feel like I’m going to be sick on it. I cram myself between a group of tourists and take the last empty seat. When I look up, I find an elderly woman in front of me, standing and holding on to the rail. Of course. I stand up and offer her my seat. She gladly accepts it, and I take her place holding the rail.

The Jamaican man that always sits in the corner is there. He’s always playing his Bob Marley a tad too loud on his iPod. Even with the bustle on the bus, I can make out “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” coming through his old school earphones. I roll my eyes for what seems to be the tenth time today and hope that I make it to the supermarket before the afternoon crowd does.

As I’m standing in line to pay for the few things I’m buying, I spot Cole and Erin in a magazine I’m flipping through. Erin has her arm draped around his waist, and he’s on his cell phone, smiling. I love seeing him shine, but I hate seeing him in magazines with his different women. I should be used to it by now, but it still bothers me. Not that it should. I know I could be with him if I wanted to. I just feel like he needs to get things out of his system. And we wouldn’t be living in the same city anyway, so what’s the point? I can’t ask him to give up the job he loves so much for me.

When I walk in the door, the alarm doesn’t go off, so I know Aubry is home.

“Hey, Cowboy,” he greets as he walks toward me in his work clothes. I smile at him. He is so good looking, my Aubry. He grew out of his lankiness and into a fit swimmer’s body. He still swims every morning and most nights in our building’s pool.

“Hey, Aub. You talk to Greg today?” I ask even though I already know the answer.

Greg was the one that started calling me cowboy. He told me the name Blake is a boy’s name. I told him I was supposed to be a boy—not that I really knew this. He then went on to say that Blake was a cowboy name. The boys laughed, and the nickname stuck.

“I did. Did Becky tell you they’re going to New York next weekend?” he asks, and I hear the hopefulness in his voice.

“She did. She said Greg has a game there. You should go,” I say with a small smile.

His face falls. “I was hoping we’d go together. Take a break, you know?”

“Well, I did take the week off. I guess I’ll go,” I say, smiling. I was planning on going anyway. I haven’t seen Becky in so long.

Aubry laughs and continued talking about his job and his new clients while I put the groceries away.

“So what’s up with Aimee?” I ask as I’m rinsing off dishes after dinner.

I laugh as I watch a slow flush cover Aubry’s face.

“She’s an interesting girl,” he says smirking.

“That she is. Please be careful with her. I know she’s not your usual type, but she’s a good girl.”

“You know me, Blake,” he says looking confused. “I treat my women with respect.”

“So where do you want to stay?” I ask gladly getting off the subject.

He looks at me with furrowed eyebrows, and I already know what he’s going to say. Before he can reply, I put my hands up.

“No, absolutely not. If you want to stay there, fine. I’m staying in a hotel.”

“Blake, he’s going to be mad. Cole has enough room. What would we tell him?” he groans.

“I’ll tell him that I like my privacy or that I’m planning on taking Russell with me. Trust me, he won’t mind letting me stay at a hotel,” I reply with a smile.

He laughs. “It won’t work. He even said you could bring Russell if you wanted.”

The cup that I’m washing slips out of my hands, and I grip the sink to steady my weak knees. That doesn’t sound like Cole at all. Maybe he really is happy with Erin. Maybe she’s the one. The thought leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. As I’m trying to swallow past the lump forming in my throat, Aubry starts laughing.

“I’m just kidding, Blake. He didn’t say that. I wouldn’t put it past him though if it meant having us stay in his house,” Aubry says, looking amused.

I pick up the dishrag and throw it at his face. “You’re an asshole! I’m going to shower, and then we’ll book our flight and my hotel room. Let me know if you want to join me, so I can book double beds.”