As I did multiple times a day, I mourned for old Casey, the fun-loving girl who found joy in the simplest of things, the girl who would never consider blackmailing her husband into sex because, back then, all it would have taken to get his attention was a sexy, sideways glance. Oh, how Imissedher!
Sorrow, I’d discovered, had a way of sapping the sexy clean out of a person. Now, on a daily basis, I felt like a blubbery, soggy slug slithering my way through life as I left a trail of slurpy tears inmywake.
Without my even realizing it, heavy droplets had begun falling from my eyes, making way for what was sure to be a spectacular water show. Not wanting to give Jake yet another front row seat to the festivities, I shakily rose from the bed and slunk fromtheroom.
“Casey?” Jake called out, his own body slumped under the weight of my sadness. “Come on.Comeback.”
“No. Never mind.” I blinked away the emotion that blurred my vision and headed for the exit of thetourbus.
Jake jogged up from behind and pried my fingers from the door handle. Gripping my shoulders, he turned me around slowly, pulling me into a hug so tight that I knew I couldn’t fight my way out. Still, my body was unwilling, or perhaps it was just unable, to accept the comfort he was offering.Don’t give up on me.I wanted his love but felt numb to it all. Unsurprisingly, Jake didn’t back down, keeping me cocooned in safety until my shoulders finally wilted in response to his unyielding devotion and the dam gates opened. Wave after wave of sorrow poured from the core of my fracturedheart.
“Shhh, I’m here. You’re going to be okay. Just let it out.” Jake carefully stroked the tangled strands of my hair as if I were a precious possession he was safeguarding. His loving touch only made me feel worse. My suffering affected him just as much as his earlier struggles hadaffectedme.
Gripping his hand, I searched out his eyes and spoke with as much strength as I could muster. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to pull it together, I really am. I thought as time passed it would get easier, but ithasn’t.”
Jake tightened his hold on me. “It’s been only a few months. No one is expecting you to suddenly feel better. This isn’t something you get over, Casey, it’s something you deal with in the long term. You’ve got to take it one day atatime.”
Even though the day-by-day approach he was suggesting had, so far, gotten me nowhere, I nonetheless nodded my head. Of course I should pay more heed to Jake’s advice, as he certainly knew a thing or two about coping; yet even his ability to survive unimaginable trauma was doing nothing to help my own handling of the situation. When it came right down to it, I wasn’t Jake. I didn’t have his inner strength, nor did I have his off-the-charts survival skills. I was inherently an emotional being, feeling everything to uncomfortable extremes. When I was happy and in love, the radiance shimmered off me like a disco ball at an 80’s prom. But in my current state of disarray, it felt as if a light had been turned off somewhere inside, and I was casting shadows so wide that anyone in a hundred-mile radius was blanketed by mygloom.
As with all my crying marathons, the tears eventually dried up, but there was no need to worry about a drought. Within a few hours, the coffers would refill and once again be locked and loaded and ready to flow. When my stuttered breaths died down to hollowed hiccups, Jake broke from our hug and led me back into the bedroom. He gently lowered me onto the bed, and I sank onto its soft sheets, drained and disheartened. Taking his place beside me, Jake grasped my hand and placed it over his heart, a gesture that alwayscalmedme.
Don’t give uponme.
“Maybe you should stay in the bus for the show,” he offered. “Get somesleep.”
“No, I can’t be in here alone. It’s too quiet. I’ll just startthinking.”
“Lassen willbehere.”
“Lassen’s a worthless lug,” I said, my insult making me sound like an overindulgedtoddler.
“What’s going on with the two of you lately? Yesterday he said you threw a plastic plate at him like aFrisbee.”
“Yes, that’s right. I almost gothim,too.”
A smile broke out over Jake’s face. “Was there a specific reason, or were you just working on your targetpractice?”
“He acts like I’ve got the bubonic plague. Every time he sees me coming – tears or not – he gets all bug-eyed and pasty-faced. The other day he covered his nose and mouth with his shirt… hence the flyingplasticdisc.”
“Okay, I get your frustration, but give the poor guy a break. You know he hates feelings, and right now, you’re just a giant swirling hotpot of them. Just try to be nicertohim.”
Placing the palms of my hands over my eyes, I groaned in a long, drawn out manner. The last thing I wanted was to give Lassen a break, but I also didn’t want to put Jake between us. “Fine. I’ll be nicer, but onlyforyou.”
“Thank you,” Jake said, amused by the effort I was making on his behalf. “Oh, and while we’re on the subject of Lassen, he has requested that you stop dumping your used Kleenex in his wastebasket. He wants me to tell you that it’s disgusting and that it makes him want tovomit.”
A wicked little smile chased away the frown. That was just the reaction I’d beengoingfor.
Jake studied me a second before playfully poking me in the side. “I know you’re doing it on purpose, Case, so you’d better wipe that smile off your face when Lassen’saround.”
He knew me too well. Messing with Lassen had become a full time job for me lately. He was always such a grump, and pushing his buttons took little to no effort at all. Sure, I could be nicer to Lassen, but plotting against him was really the only thing that kept me going these days. I laughed, allowing the lightness to ease mysadness.
“You’re a brat,” he said, grinning. “But at least you haven’t lost that sense of humor ofyours.”
A lump formed in the back of my throat when I thought of the reason for its suppression. I burrowed in closer to his warm body feeling suddenremorse. “Jake?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry for sexuallyharassingyou.”
