An oversized T-shirt waits for me on the pillow. My tummy flips knowing who it belongs to. I pull it to my face like a crazy fool and suck in the sandalwood scent of Dax. He’s worn this at some point. I’ll be pulling on this T-shirt knowing that Dax has been in it too.
Jesus.I feel like a schoolgirl. An idiot with a crush, but that’s what I am, isn’t it? I dress, trying not to think of the way the cotton feels as it dances across my bare skin. Soft and warm, it’s the closest I’ll get to Dax and I know it.
Leaping under the covers, and bouncing upon the mattress, I reach for my phone. As soon as I figure out which icon brings up the dial-pad, I tap in Charlie’s number and listen to the outgoing pulses.
“Hello? Who is this?”
The familiarity of Charlie’s voice, even as confused as it is, does something unexpected; I unwind. The pain, the fear, the loss, the nerves—all of it—embeds itself in my words and floats down the phone to my friend. Someone who has always had my back.
“Charlie? It’s Jules.”
Her relief at hearing my voice is instantaneous and bears out in the shift of her mood.
“Hey darling! Why are you calling so late?”
“I’m sorry, Charlie, but I wanted to let you know I won’t be able to come into work for a few days.” My guilt, the part of myself I rarely show others, slips into the driving seat. I feel like a piece of shit. I’m letting her down.
“Are you okay?”she asks.
“No. Not really,” I admit. “Some strange things have happenedand well…I got myself into a situation…” Downplaying the circumstances makes me sound like a liar, but I don’t even know how to form the words to tell Charlie everything that has happened.
“Something to do with those new friends of yours?”she asks, way too observantly.
“Actually, yes, but it’s not their fault.”
“Do you need me to send Daddy-bear to come get you? I promise he will obliterate anyone. Just point them out and consider it done.”
“I know he’d do it too, but no thank you.”Not yet anyway.“I can’t go into details, but my dad has kind of sold me and the family out. Mum’s gone away with the kids, and I’m looking out for myself for a while. I’m safe, but there might be people who come looking for me and…well…I don’t want to be there when they do, for everyone’s sake. Can you put it out that you sacked me? I mean, you might have to fire me for real. I can’t really say how long it will be before we sort all this out.”
“No one is sacking you!”she insists. “I’ll call my sister to come down and help for a while. It will be nice to catch up. And if anyone asks, I ditched you for back talking me, and I know nothing else. Sound okay?”
Thank you, God, for this woman. She’s one of the few reasons I still have faith in people at all. “Sounds perfect. Thank you, Charlie.”
“Listen, you call me to check in, okay? That rescue offer will stay open. We will come get you no matter when or where, you hear?”
I nod; throat choked and eyes burning with gratitude. “I hear. Thank you”
“Okay. Stay safe, darling.”
“I will. Bye, Charlie.” I hang up without waiting for her response and wipe the tears from under my eyes. As soon as I remember I’m wearing Dax’s T-shirt, I dart out of bed and grab a roll of toilet paper for the snot running from my nose.
Charlie is amazing, and she means every word she says. I knew she would offer to help, but hearing it said out loud completely cripples me. I’m blessed and cursed to have such loving friends. My heart glows to have them, and is crushed because I will never feelgood enough for them. I could never ask her to do the things she offers. I don’t know if it’s pride, stubbornness, or a sense that I don’t deserve her kindness, but I can’t rely on her. It wouldn’t be right. I owe her more than that.
I slide back into bed. As comfortable as I am, sinking into a mattress stuffed with angel feathers or unicorn hair given how out-of-this-world it feels, I can’t sleep. Closing my eyes invites an action-replay of everything I’ve seen and heard today.
A series of betrayals and discoveries.
Without the responsibility of work, I have nothing to focus on, and no need to sleep in order to keep up with the day ahead. Sleeping means waking. Waking means facing a new temporary future that I’m not in control of and, despite the craziness of everything that’s happened, I am genuinely scared to see the new day.
Ilie awake, staring at the ceiling. Ornate crossbeams divide it into square sections. I picture myself as a bug in this mansion and I ponder how long it would take me to climb one of those crossbeams? Each one is a hurdle to overcome if you want to move to the next section. Would it take hours to cross the entire ceiling? A day? More? Or is time different for bugs and tiny creatures?
The journey feels like a metaphor. My grandmother would have made a saying out of it. ‘A failure can only see the barrier that got in his way. A success sees the hurdle he surpassed to win,’ —or something like that.
A droning buzz draws my attention from the ceiling. I look to the bedside table to find my phone making a leisurely escape across the surface, heading straight for the edge. I grab it just before it slips over the side and wince as the bright light from the screen flares my vision.
A text message? Who from? This late? Dax’s name stares back at me from the screen.
What are you doing?
