Her response was pure Candy, crystallized into a single sentence.Would you rather charm them or employ blunt force trauma in verbal form?
He laughed out loud, even as that emptiness inside him ballooned further.
Your brand of blunt force trauma is a pleasure to observe, always. Bring on the carnage, Candy.
He waited for a response. When it came, it was brief.
Very well.Take care, Griff.
Five words. He stared at them for a very, very long time.
Over the next few days,he and Candy orbited each other from a safe distance. They sat at opposite ends of tables during faculty gatherings, greeted each other in passing as they walked down the halls of the school, and e-mailed documents and updates on the initiative rather than discussing them in person.
Sometimes brief, bright glimpses of their old rapport shone through the veil he’d placed between them—
It appears I bludgeoned our department members into submission,she’d written after the meeting, and he’d snickered at both the memory and her choice of wording.I hope you enjoyed the show.
—but for the most part, their new relationship was everything he’d told her he wanted, and nothing he hadn’t.
To quote Shakespeare:When you depart from me sorrow abides, and happiness takes his leave.
To quote his students: It sucked.
One more week of emptiness. Two.
By the time their Falling for Poetry Initiative actually began, he was coming out of his skin, agitated and exhausted and confused. Still, all their plans and activities ran smoothly the first two days of the week. He and Candy hadn’t needed to confer in person once.
In all honesty, by Tuesday afternoon, he was kind of hoping something would go wrong.
When he saw Candy after school that day, though, he regretted his wish.
Something clearlyhadgone wrong. That horrible grayness had leached the rosy color from her skin once more, and her face was closed as a fist. And if that wasn’t enough to alarm him, she was wearingpants. Her fine, ash-brown hair, sans headband, flopped around the sides of her stiff, still features, and she didn’t push it out of the way.
She was passing by him in the hall outside their rooms.
They made eye contact. Hers were red-rimmed.
She offered no polite smile, as she usually did. No simple, friendly greeting. Nothing but a bare nod as they crossed paths and continued in their separate directions, farther and farther apart.
He couldn’t take it.
“Candy.” Catching her good arm, he gently urged her to a stop. “Hold on a minute.”
Obediently, she turned to face him, but said nothing.
Her total lack of expression kicked his heart into a panicked gallop. Dammit, what the hell had happened to her?
He stepped closer. “Are you okay? Because I haven’t seen you look like this in—”
“It’s the three-month anniversary,” she told him in a monotone. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to make a phone call.”
Shit.Shit. He should have remembered.
July fucking fourteenth, she’d spat.My baby sister.
When she turned away, he moved in front of her.
“Candy, please.” Ducking his head, he caught her eye again. “Is there something I can do to help? Do you want to talk, or—”
