Overture (Rain Dance, Book 1) (Rain Dance Series) (72 page)

     
"Don't be
so stupid," he scoffed. "It's not safe. How many times do we have to
go over this?"

     
I winced
involuntarily at the harsh tone of his voice. I was expecting it, but that
didn't stop his disapproval from making me feel ill. At this point, it felt
like all I ever did was disappoint him. "I'm tired. I don't want to argue
right now."

     
"…I'm
sorry," he replied, his voice turning quiet. "Promise you won't do it
again?"

     
I wanted to say
yes, but I knew better. I know I had agreed to it, but I suddenly felt as
though I were suffocating. It was bad enough that I had to live each day
knowing that someone would actually kill me if they had the chance. But now
with Ethan always having to know where I was, and on top of that, Noel was also
keeping a light watch on me…

     
Maybe I should
just go at it alone. I'd certainly feel safer that way. I think. Or had Ethan
changed that, too? "…I can't."

     
He exhaled.
"Daphne…"

     
"I can't
breathe. I need space." I took a seat on my bed. "Look, I know you
want to look after me. But I need to take care of myself."

     
"Is this
about what Karina said? I'm not risking anything if that's what you're worried
about."

     
"Maybe you
are, maybe you aren't…I have no way of knowing either way. Regardless, I have
to start thinking about what I'm going to do."

     
"It's not
just you anymore, remember?"

     
…But wasn't it?

     
No, silly.
Did you think you could mourn and that would be it? Did you actually think you
could move on from this?

     
"You're
right," I agreed. "It's not. But there is no us if I'm dead. I'll
talk to you on Sunday. Please don't bother me until then."

     
"Are you
doing something tomorrow?"

 
    
"I don't really know what I'm doing
tomorrow. I have to go."

     
"Wait -
just…
He
contacted you, right?"

     
"Of course
he did. Unlike you, he knows what I need to hear." It wasn't until after I
had spoken the words that I realized just how horrible they sounded. "…To
protect myself, you know," I added, hoping I hadn't just inadvertently
hurt him.

     
Ethan remained
quiet.

     
"I'm going
to sleep. I'll talk to you soon." After a few more lingering seconds of
silence, I hung up.

9/27/2014

I
dreamed today. It was the same dream I used to have everyday before I came
here. In it, I'm sleeping, floating just above the seabed. I'm safe - deep
underneath where, somehow, it's much easier to breathe.

Slowly,
I open my eyes. Far up above me, I can see it. The light. It's split up into
millions of tiny fragments, each one dancing. Altogether, it's a dazzling
sight. Catching the sun's light from down here is, by far, the most beautiful
thing I have ever seen.

Happiness
overcomes me and I begin to cry. The sea accepts my tears as its own. It
accepts me, as well, engulfing every singular part of my being into a welcoming
embrace. As I close my eyes again, I can hear it whisper in my ear…"At
last, you are home."

This
is my dream.

And
that's all it is - a dream and nothing more. Because in reality, death doesn't
come as easily. The water can only offer a certain amount of comfort before it
begins to choke you. Then the pain starts. It seeps into your nose and down
your throat. Panic sets in as you realize you're helpless to stop it. All you
can do is wait for it to fill your lungs completely. As soon as it enters, it
morphs into a deep scorching heat that makes you feel as though you're
literally on fire, burning alive from within. The pain becomes so bad that you
begin to wish for life again.

It's
funny, isn't it? On the surface, it's safe. Cool and inviting. It feels like
heaven against the skin. It feels like home. But once inside, it becomes a
monster, devouring you in the most hurtful way.

If
I weren't so afraid of the fire - of being burned, then I might just try it
again.

To
see those lights…To be held like that again. Even now, I think it might just be
worth it.

Blue.
That was the color I was feeling when I woke up on Sunday. Not the
sad
kind of blue, but more like the
let's completely bypass sadness and head
straight into partying and getting wasted so I don't have to feel anything at
all
kind of blue. I spent an hour awake in bed before finally getting up
and hopping into the shower. Afterwards, I sifted through bags of clothes for
some loungewear that would fit my mood. It was a vain attempt. No nightgown
could cure me.

     
Fuck it.
I'll dress in celebration, instead.
I slipped on a dark blue dress. It was
sleeveless with an outer layer of my favorite chiffon fabric. The front was
short but the back trailed all the way to my ankles. Since it was such a nice
dress, I fixed my hair and did my makeup, too. But after inspecting myself in
the mirror, I found that something was still missing.
Ah!
Running back
to my closet, I reached into my hatbox and pulled out a tiara, a large white
feather boa, and a silver wand covered in glitter and ribbons.
There.
Fucking perfection.

     
"Is there
a party going on that I don't know about?" Dale asked when I walked into
the kitchen.

     
"There is
now."

     
"What's
the occasion?"

     
"Life. Are
you going somewhere?" I noticed that he was fully dressed and had his
messenger bag with him.

     
"Gotta get
some things ready for the trip. I'll probably be out for most of the day, but
I'll be here in spirit. Don't go too crazy."

     
"I'm going
straight to level batshit," I stated proudly.

     
There was a
rather extended pause before he spoke again. "Are you really okay?"

     
"…I will
be. After I get some cray cray." I smiled and moved up and down on my
heels.

     
He laughed.
"I'm here if you need anything."

     
"I know.
Thanks, Coops."

     
A couple
minutes later, he left. It was just me alone in the apartment. His apartment.

     
….
Champagne?

     
Sure, why not?

     
I hadn't tried
any before, so I figured now would be as good a time as any. Was it odd that
not even a month ago I was adamantly against drinking just for the sake of
getting drunk? But now that I had experienced some damn good wine, I could say
that I was missing out by not enjoying it every once in a while. I still
preferred my ice cream cones, but I could only eat so many of those before I
started to get fat.

   
  
Thinking of ice cream led me to feeling hungry. I
checked the time to find that it was already noon. After putting together a
quick meal, I sat down to eat while watching another episode of
The X-Files
.

     
Because the
idea of going to buy something I knew absolutely nothing about triggered all
kinds of anxieties, I had to look up some tips. The first being: expect to pay
at least twenty dollars for decent-tasting champagne. My little mind had always
assumed that you couldn't get any for less than thirty dollars, so I was happy
to be proven wrong. This meant that I was already prepared to get the good
stuff. Next time, I would get the cheap shit and see if there really was a
difference in quality. The second tip was: visit an actual wine shop. That made
me especially anxious, it being unfamiliar territory and all, but I told myself
it would be an adventure.

     
I was about to
shut off my laptop when I suddenly remembered to do something I should've done
a month ago. I reopened the web browser and entered
Ethan Desmond
into
the search bar.

     
Seeing his face
appear on screen brought an instant flutter to my heart. I went ahead and
checked through the images first. Nearly all of them were taken at various
events. In most, he appeared to be alone if not in a group consisting of other
business associates, but there were a few that featured a female by his side. I
spent at least two minutes studying and comparing myself to every one of them,
surprised to find that none of them looked a thing like me. All were tall,
gorgeous, model-thin, and mature-looking.

     
Of the women,
there was only one who stood out. She was also the one to appear the most.
Karina. Although the other women were lovely regardless, their forms appeared
rather shapeless when compared to the way Karina filled out her gowns. After
seeing a picture of her in one particular dress, I could now confirm that her
tits were, in fact, very real. I had to stop looking before my imagination
could get the better of me. Picturing Ethan being intimate with her was not
something I could afford to do, so I quickly moved on to other things.

     
Still knowing
next to nothing about Luxadigm Industries, I focused my attention on that. The
business seemed to do a bit of dabbling, buying out other companies here and
there, but it was mostly known for designing and manufacturing parts and
products that primarily specialized in security. This included various
electronics, multitudes of non-tech gadgets, and raw materials used for the
construction of buildings and cars. Basically, they were big on safety and
protection.

     
As far as
information went about Ethan himself, I found nothing of importance. Nothing
that I didn't already know about, at least. According to the internet, he was a
well-respected man with a very clean name. There were no scandals linked to him
at all, much to my joy. His father was mentioned a few times, but it was always
the same thing: Luxadigm Industries founder Leland Desmond and wife, Nina,
found dead after plane crash on February 4, 1999…

     
My breathing
came to a stop when I read the date.

     
Was it some
sort of sign? Or was it just a huge coincidence that my father's death had also
taken place on that same day? As a shiver made its way up my spine, I quickly
closed the browser before shutting down my laptop. The heavens wouldn't be so
funny as to give Ethan and I a connection like that.
But apparently, they
already had.

     
After making
myself presentable, I began the journey of getting drunk. It was a fairly short
walk to the quaint little wine shop. Rather than ask the clerk for help, I went
straight towards the 'bubbly' sign. I didn't even bother looking through all the
bottles. As soon as I saw the one with a pink label, I knew it was for me. It
cost twice the amount I had originally planned to spend, but I didn't care. I
had more than enough money now.

     
On the way
back, I stopped by the convenience store to pick up some snacks that would be
fitting for a party. And since they were right there, I picked up some
balloons, too.

     
As soon as I
was back in the apartment, I had my iPod out, ready to blast some music. After
putting the champagne away, I put my party gear back on and began blowing up
balloons, making sure to take my time so I wouldn't run out of breath. The set
I had gotten came in blue, white, and silver. They were more expensive than the
standard rainbow pack, but they were much easier to tie.

  
   
"Whoo!" I threw the final balloon I had
just blown up into the air and watched as it slowly fell to the ground with the
others.

     
Wow. What a
party.

     
Okay, time
to get drunk!
I danced my way into the kitchen and grabbed one of Dale's
wine glasses from the cupboard and the bottle from the fridge. I had a bit of
trouble fiddling with the wire cage and the cork, but nothing spilled, at
least.

     
The liquid came
out as more of a peach-pink, which wasn't what I was expecting. It smelled like
berries with a slightly floral undertone. The taste was divine. I sat down for
a good fifteen minutes, enjoying both the flavor and the music. When I was done
with the first glass, I went for a second and twirled back into the living
room, setting the glass down onto the table, ready to dance.

     
Taking hold of
my feather boa, I spun around and around. I jumped. I kicked. I swayed. I even
sang.

     
It was all
wrong.

     
With the help
of the wine, the music
should
have been able to overtake me so I wouldn't
have to think for myself - I would only have to move. I
should
have been
having a good laugh at my silliness. I
should
have been enjoying jumping
through all the balloons. And yes, the alcohol should have been pushing to make
all these things come true.

     
But everything
was wrong. Here I was, a twenty-four year old woman, acting like a four year
old. I was a fool.

     
The urge to
curl up was strong, but not as strong as the need to lash out. I wasn't sure
what I was suddenly so mad about, but pure violence began coursing through my
veins. I wanted to do more than just scream. I wanted to lament. I wanted to
destroy. I came close to picking up my glass and throwing it across the room,
but I reminded myself that this was Dale's home - I would not taint it. Still,
I needed something to strike at.

     
I wanted blood.

     
I wanted
release.

     
I wanted to
fall.

     
I wanted the
dam to break - to start feeling normally again. I was both mentally and
physically tired of holding up the wall I had built around my emotions. I
didn't want to run away anymore. I wanted to fight. I wanted to brawl. I wanted
to live, not merely survive. But what I really wanted was Ethan and nothing
else. I wanted us to be okay.

     
I inhaled
deeply, readying myself for the outcry I was about to unleash, when suddenly
there came a knock at the door.

     
Steadying
myself, I straightened up. All previous thoughts ceased to exist. For a small
moment,
I
ceased to exist. My body walked to the door of its own accord.
I didn't look through the peephole. I already knew it was him.

     
As soon as I
opened the door he stepped in, rushing right past me. I shut the door before
turning to face him. He had his back to me, appearing to have stopped mid-step.

     
"Is it
someone's birthday?" he asked, taking in the mess of balloons scattered
across the floor.

     
"No."

     
He looked
around. "Is Dale here?"

     
"No."

     
Finally, he
turned to me. His eyes, obviously puzzled, ran up and down my form. "Why
are you…?"

     
My answer was
automatic. "I'm throwing a party."

     
"For
whom?" he asked when I said nothing else.