He just didn’t know what.
Chapter Nine
The laptop saton the desk in her spare room, almost mocking Steff. Apart from checking her emails every few days, she didn’t do much else on it. Unlike before her attack, when she would forever be trawling the internet for any hint of something major going down in the entertainment world.
Some people may have thought what she and Cynthia did–working the entertainment beat–was frivolous, but she’d loved it. There was nothing better than dressing up and going to a red-carpet event.
She and Cynthia had been such a good team and good friends. Their friendship was different now.
Perhaps if she’d made an effort to retain the relationship the two of them had had, then maybe she wouldn’t have slid as far down into her lonely existence as she did. Cynthia had certainly tried.
Her therapist suggested that she bring Cynthia along to one of their sessions, if Cynthia wanted to, so they could work through some of the issues Steff was having. Steff hadn’t called her friend, and told her therapist that Cynthia didn’t want to come because she was doing work with her own therapist.
Steff had no idea if that was true, but she’d had to come up with a valid reason for why her friend wouldn’t have been there. Even though it was all a lie. It was after that session that Steff didn’t go back.
She’d been her own worst enemy. Not doing what she could to help herself.
Did she like wallowing in the pain the attack had caused her?
It appeared so, because she half-assed helped herself.
With one last look at her laptop, she turned on her heel and strode to where she knew her phone sat on the kitchen counter. Not allowing herself to second guess what she was doing, she swiped it up, unlocked it, found Cynthia’s contact details, and tapped the number to make a call.
Her heart thumped faster than it normally did, and she could feel the way her blood pumped around her body. Her skin tingled and the paranoid voice in her head was screaming at her to hang-up, but Steff steadfastly ignored it.
She was doing this.
“Steff? Hi, this is a surprise.”
Steff’s eyes drifted shut at hearing her friend’s voice. They’d talked every day for years, but in the last two years, she could count on one hand how many times they’d chatted, without it being a text conversation. “I’m sorry,” she blurted.
“What? What for?”
She sat with a thud on the nearest chair. “For being a bad friend.”
“I could’ve been a better friend, too.”
Nope, she wasn’t going to allow Cynthia to take part of the blame. “No, you’re the one who hasn’t given up. You kept ringing me those first few months after we were freed. I was the one who ignored all your efforts. But that didn’t stop you, you reverted to texting me. You’ve done everything. Don’t ever say you could’ve been better. It’s me. I could’ve tried done more.”
“We could go back and forth and take the blame that we both feel. What good would it do if we did? What do you say we put it behind us and look forward?” Cynthia suggested.
Her friend was being very generous, and the last thing Steff was going to do was throw it back in her face. Besides, Cynthia was right, nothing good would come of arguing as if she needed to punish herself even more. “I’d like that very much. Our text conversations didn’t go into too much detail about our personal lives, so what are you doing with yourself?”
“I’m doing some freelance work for some online sites. It’s fun, but not the same as working at the paper with you.”
Her former employers had told Steff that she could take as long as she needed and they would hold a job for her. She assumed that they’d done the same for Cynthia. But after six months, Steff knew she would never return, so she formally resigned. “Did you quit the paper too?”
It was better to ask than to speculate and come up with the wrong answer.
“I went back after, you know. And it was okay for a while, but I couldn’t go out at night when I was needed. So, in the end I thought it best to quit until I’m ready to face being on a crowded street again.”
The very idea of being at an event like the one Cynthia described had her skin crawling, as if she’d stepped into an ants’ nest and they were climbing up and down her legs. The fact Cynthia had said she was doing freelance would suggest she still hadn’t found the courage, or strength to do that just yet.
“How long ago did you quit?”
“A year ago. I’m still working with my therapist, and I’m getting better. I don’t want them to win. By not living my life the way I had before being taken, means those fuckers still have control over me. And I don’t want that to happen. I’m going toreclaim my life.” The resolve in Cynthia’s voice was plain to hear, and she admired her friend immensely.
Cynthia also made good points. Points Steff hadn’t considered. It was still a hurdle she wasn’t sure she could get over. “Aren’t you scared though?”
