The Space In Between (18 page)

THERE IT WAS! A smile. Well, a
partial smile, but I would work with whatever I could get. She looked drained.
I gave her a ‘friendly’ nudge on her shoulder. “Can I come in?” She opened the
door wider, and that was enough of an invite. I took it.

I closed the door behind me and took a seat on the floor,
legs crossed. She raised an eyebrow and sighed. “You know, there are chairs and
beds to sit on.” I patted the spot across from me, and even though she was
reluctant, she joined me. “Why are you so nice to me?”

“Why wouldn’t anyone be nice to you?” I asked.

“Come on, Cooper. One day I’m all over you, and the next I’m
crying in your bedroom. Then I’m needy. Then I need my space. I’m angry. I’m
dark at times. If bi-polar was a person, it would be me.”

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”

She chuckled. I fucking loved that sound. “What is it you
see?”

I rested the palm of my hand under my chin. I was astonished
that she didn’t see herself at all. I wondered what she saw when she looked in
the mirror. “I see a spirit that was broken the day her loved one died. I see
someone who is waffling back and forth between being happy and feeling guilt
for that happiness, trapped in the space between holding on and letting go. And
I see someone I want to help put back together.”

I meant it. I was dedicated to her. And whatever she needed,
I wanted to be the one to provide it for her. Even if that meant we would only
be friends.

Her head lowered to the wooden floor panels and she ran her
fingers across the cracks. She began to shake a small amount and looked up to
me with tears trying their best to stay hidden from the world. “What if I can’t
be fixed?”

I glanced to the floor panels and copied her finger movement
along the cracks. “Then we’ll be broken together.”

PRIDE AND PREJUDICE
. I’d
never seen the movies. I’d never read the book. And it wasn’t that I didn’t
dance, I
couldn’t
dance. So the idea of walking into a dance studio
tomorrow afternoon for my cousin’s party terrified the fuck out of me. After
leaving a tired Andrea’s side, I headed through the house towards the backyard
to get to the coach house.

After passing many different doors and many different
hallways, I saw a bedroom door swung open and a cat sleeping on the ground. My
skin started to feel like spiders were creeping across my whole body. I fucking
hated cats. Not kidding. HATED them.

But I glanced up to the bed to see a lovely lady sitting up,
with her eyes glued to the television screen. Her eyes sparkled as if she were
waking up early on Christmas morning in time to catch Santa Claus. “What ya
watching?” I asked outside Ladasha’s bedroom. She grinned and waved me in. I
glanced towards the sleeping cat and rubbed my earlobe. “I’m good here.”

“
Sleepless In Seattle
,” she responded as she walked
over to greet me at the door.

“Never seen it.”

“I’m not surprised, Mr. ‘I’ve never seen any romance or
romantic comedy movie ever.’ What are you? A guy?” she sneered. Ladasha was one
of the most charming people I’d ever come across in my life. Her ability to
make people feel comfortable and safe around her was incredible. She was
intelligent, highly educated in the world of film. She was a good friend; the
way she’d squeezed Andrea’s hand at the dining table showed me that. Let’s be
honest, she was sexy as hell and she was hilarious. For the life of me, I had
no idea why this girl was single.

“Have you seen
Pride and Prejudice
?” I inquired. I
required her help.

Snickering out loud, she placed her long brown hair up into
a messy bun. Her hand found the perfect placement on her hip as she glared at
me. “Psh. Have I ever seen
Pride and Prejudice
. Did you really just ask
me that?”

Biting the tip of my thumb, I put on my best puppy dog eyes.
“Can you do me a favor?”

“IT’S ALL RIGHT. Try again.”

She remained calm as I stepped on her foot for the fifth
time within the last thirty minutes. We stood in the emptied living room of the
coach house as Ladasha tried to teach me a few dance moves of the English
Country Dance. She told me the dances of the eighteenth century were simplistic
moves with a few steps easy to follow. For some reason I thought it was rocket
science.

“You’re overthinking it. Stop thinking. Turn off the left
side of your brain and allow your creativity to flow. Like with your photos.
When you take the pictures your body isn’t tight. It’s not overthinking about
what the photo may turn out to be. You’re allowing the photo to flow to you.”

She made sense. I tried to stop thinking about the movements
and fell into the art of dance. “So, you like her a lot.” She assumed I was
learning the dance moves in order to impress Andrea. Ladasha wasn’t a dummy.

“I do,” I said as I glided myself around Ladasha. She
informed me that tomorrow we would have to trade partners, which seemed much
more complicated than I was ready for. So I pretended she never said that. One
step at a time.

“I wish you could have known her before the accident.”

“I’m hoping to know her after it.” We kept dancing into the
night. I wasn’t good—let’s not be crazy. But I wasn’t horrible. My feet stepped
on hers more than I wanted to admit, but she was a great teacher. She allowed
me to make mistakes and cheered me on when I fixed them myself. A brilliant
instructor she had turned out to be.

When we decided to call it a night, she stuck around to help
me move the furniture we had previously pushed into the kitchen back into the
living room. As we carried the sofa, she told me she was in need of a few
questions to be answered from me. If I had plans to be around Andrea for the
long run, I had to first pass the best friend questionnaire.

“Have you ever been hooked on drugs? Alcohol?”

“No.”

She shifted the oversized blue chair into the far corner of
the room. “STDs?”

“No.”

“Are things really done and over with your wife?”

That was a very clear yes. Minus the messed up paparazzi
threats.

“Any children you may or may not know about?”

I grew quiet. She must have seen the sadness in my eyes, so
she was quick to tell me that everything spoken during the questionnaire was
strictly confidential.

“Two miscarriages and one lie.”

Her look of understanding was comforting. She didn’t judge
me; she just listened. Hell, it was good to just have someone listen for once.
I could see why Andrea spoke so highly of this unique woman. She was somethin’
else.

As she prepared to leave the room, she revealed a small fact
about herself. “My mom cared more about her drugs, and my dad…God knows who he
is. And as far as miscarriages are concerned…” Her voice trailed off and she
lost herself in her memories, “Let’s just say I know how you feel.” I returned
the same understanding look to her. She smirked and went back to her sassy self
instantly. “But that’s off the record.”

“Of course.”

I opened the front door for her and walked her back to the
house. I watched as she wrapped her arms around herself to keep warm in the
falling snow, and I placed my jacket around her shoulders. As we said
goodnight, she smiled and said the kindest thing to me.

“Cooper, you would have made a great father.”

I walked back towards the coach house that night with a few
new dance moves and a brand new friend.

Ladasha’s parents had no clue about the treasure they’d let
go.

Dumbasses.

I WAS HAVING a nightmare. I was
smiling, I was dancing, and I was lying next to Derrick. We were laughing at
the neighbors, drinking in the bars, and living happily ever after. I snuggled
my head into the curve of his neck and we fit so perfectly together. Yet when I
looked up, Derrick was gone. I was standing alone, lost, and confused, crying
out.
Derrick!
Why would he leave me? My breaths were short and my
screams were loud, but no one could hear me. I raced through the house,
searching for an explanation, searching for clues of his escape,
searching
for him
. But he was gone. And I was left crying.

How could he leave me? We were so happy. We had everything.
We had each other. Wasn’t I enough? How could he walk away and not look back? I
continued searching the house— thinking I’d missed a spot. I had to have missed
something, right? The tears kept falling, and I kept searching and praying for
him to be there next to me. So I traveled to the front door and opened it to
reveal the darkest truth.

Another man. He was handsome, charismatic, and mine for the
taking. He looked at me and didn’t just see me, but he
knew
me. He knew
the curves of my body—he knew the whispers of my heart. And he was waiting.
Waiting for me to step out of the house. Waiting for me to walk down the
pebbled sidewalk with him. He didn’t pressure me. He simply leaned against the
porch railing and smiled.

He was handsome, charismatic, and mine for the taking.

And I closed the door in his face. I couldn’t leave the
house. It was my safe haven. It was my place to find peace. But somehow—before
my eyes—it had become a prison. The walls were the chains holding me down, and
the memories were the nourishment I was so desperate to have.

`And I woke up. I could tell by the swelling of my eyes that
I’d not only been crying in my dreams, but also as I lay asleep in the bed. I
glanced in the mirror at myself and studied my face. Patting my fingers lightly
under the puffy, red eyes, I began to wipe away the lone tear that was left as
evidence to my semi-sleepless night.

 Nightmares were the worst.

“Anders, are you all right?” At the sound of the word
Anders, I knew it was my mother. What was she doing here so early? Why could I
not catch a freaking break? I breathed in the dry air of the room and turned to
the bedroom doorway.

“I’m fine, Mom. What are you doing here so early?” I watched
as her eyes widened with even more worry, and I shifted myself to the alarm
clock on the nightstand. 1:04 pm. Crap. It wasn’t early.

“I made an appointment with Ms. Sally for your hair, it’s in
thirty minutes. I’ve been calling you all morning but there was no answer.” I
remained in my seat at the desk and watched through the mirror as my mom
started straightening up the room around me. The suffocating feeling always
seemed to arise whenever my mom came around; I didn’t know how much more I
could take. But I remained silent and went digging through my luggage to find
something to wear.

I heard sniffles from behind me—oh no. Mom was crying.
Again. She looked at me and pulled me into a hug. The type of hug I needed from
my mom—not too overbearing, but not nonexistent. She must have taken notes from
Daddy.

“I’m sorry Anders. I know this hasn’t been easy for you. For
any of us.”

I agreed. “I’m sorry I missed Thanksgiving, Mom.”

She pulled away from me and nudged my arm. “I saved you a plate
in the freezer. After the dance tonight, you should stop by and eat.”

She loved me. She was crazy, a worry-wart, and extremely
dramatic, but she was my mom. And I was so happy to have her there with me.

“Now. Let’s go do something about this hideous hair of
yours.”

MS. SALLY STOOD BEHIND me, clipping
away at my hair after it had been washed. The amount of hair falling to the
ground was somewhat worrisome. I was almost positive I was going to be bald by
the time she was done. But I didn’t say anything. Questioning Ms. Sally’s
tactics was like questioning God. You just didn’t do it.

Chop chop chop. Gossip gossip gossip.
Within that
hour, I found out that Rachel had officially moved back into town, Derrick’s
mom was on anti-depressants, Fred’s Bakery made a new strawberry jam and…

“Wait. What!?” I looked up to Ms. Sally, who stood with an
‘oh crap’ look pasted on her face. Her eyes shifted towards my mom, who was
holding a magazine. She, too, had the ‘oh crap’ look plastered across her face.

“Oh…I thought. I mean, I assumed you knew, honey.” Ms. Sally
slapped her chubby arm against her waist. “My gosh Betty, you could have told
me Andrea didn’t know! I hate spreading gossip.”

“Is it true?” How could my mom keep this from me? How could
she NOT tell me this big detail?

“Well...yes. It happened over Thanksgiving. We were hoping
you would come but, well, what did you want Eric to do? Wait until you called?
Because you never did.” She huffed and puffed, making up excuses of why it had
‘slipped’ her mind to inform me that my brother and Michelle were now
officially engaged.

I returned to my seat. I couldn’t talk. I didn’t want to
talk. They were getting married. They were about to begin the journey of their
happily ever after. And I was jealous, bitter, and saddened by the idea. What
kind of monster had I become?

 The outcome of the change in my hair was beautiful. Ms.
Sally did a fantastic job. I was now sporting a pixie cut, platinum blond
hairdo which was much more me. It felt good to get back to the blondness, yet
my blue eyes still stared back at me in the mirror like they didn’t know who I
was looking at.

“That’s much better.” My mom smiled at me through the mirror
and squeezed my shoulders. The look of joy beaming from her was proof that she
was satisfied with my new look. “Now, time to get you to your dance rehearsal.”

Ugh. I shook my head, stood up, tossed on my coat and
gloves, and informed her that I would walk. It wasn’t that far, and the fresh
air would be nice to knock the grumpy out of my system.

MY HEART SKIPPED a beat as I stood
outside the dance studio and saw everyone laughing inside. There were quite a
few people in the room, but my eyes landed on the most important people. I saw
Eric’s best friend, Bobby, talking with him and Michelle. I saw Ladasha
smiling, chatting it up with Steve—Derrick’s best friend. And I saw Cooper in a
corner with Rachel, who was laughing hysterically. Surely nothing could have
been
that
funny. Jealousy filled me up while watching Cooper lean in
towards Rachel and her beautiful grin. I had no right to be jealous; he was a
free man to do whatever the hell he wanted to do, and we were just friends.

It was clear Cooper was the man in my dream, waiting for me
to step outside—or in this case,
inside
—with him and move on. What was I
waiting for? And how long could I expect a guy to wait for me? His head rose
towards the window and I stumbled back. His dimples appeared as he locked eyes
with me. I didn’t look away, but I didn’t move closer. Cooper held up a finger
to Rachel, excusing himself and it was less than five seconds before he was
standing outside in the chilled winter’s air next to me.

“Hey, you,” he said as I watched his breath hit the cold
air. He rubbed his hands together and wrapped his arms around himself. “You
look amazing.”

I gave him a half-smile and rubbed my mittens over my new
hairdo. “Thank you.”

“What are you doing? It’s freakin’ cold out here. Come on
in. They were about to get started.”

My foot shifted on the snow resting against the sidewalk. I
pointed towards Ladasha. “That guy with Dasha? That’s Derrick’s best friend.”

“Ahh, I see.” He walked over next to me and stared into the
dance room. He was wearing a short-sleeved black t-shirt and jeans, and I could
see the hairs standing up on his arms. He was freezing. But he wouldn’t show it
because he didn’t want to leave my side. “So here’s what I have learned about
Pride
and Prejudice
dances. They move quickly. You change partners fast. And you
hardly have enough time to chat with anyone. So I doubt Steve will even have
enough time to notice you. But it’s completely up to you what you want to do.
In or out?” he asked. No pressure, just a question.

I let out a breath.

In.

As I opened the door, the room filled with laughter came to
a screeching halt. It wasn’t long until the heartrending, poignant glances
towards me arrived. They saw me as a sad, abandoned puppy. The air was filled
with an overwhelming amount of whispering. At least in my mind that is what I
heard. They were questioning how I looked, how skinny I was, how alone and
depressed I must have been. They were judging me. They didn’t say it, and I
doubt they meant to, but I could feel it.

I took off my coat and tossed it on a chair in a corner.
Cooper was wrong—the dancing didn’t start soon enough. As I turned from
dropping off my coat, I stood before Steve. Not only was he Derrick’s best
friend, but he was a best friend of mine too. I hadn’t spoken to him since the
accident, and I’m not sure if I’d even glanced his way at the funeral, yet
there we were. Face to face.

Don’t cry.

I opened my mouth to speak but choked on the air. What did
you say to your dead fiancé’s best friend? He gave me his gracious smile and
ran his hands through his sandy brown hair. I smirked back towards him and
tilted my head. He lowered his eyebrows and held a hand out to me. “Wanna
dance?”

I grabbed his hand and moved to the dance floor. The
lightness of the room returned as everyone realized I wasn’t dead. I was just
going through the motions of dealing with death. The laughter came back, which
was so much more pleasant than the utter silence. Before I knew it, the dance
lessons had began and everything wasn’t as bad as my mind was making it up to
be.