Chapter 18 Cass

CHAPTER 18 CASS

2000

Plattsburgh

My first few nights inside the café, even though the blinds were drawn, and the place was filled with plants, I dared only to use the small lamp next to the couch. No easy sight lines. You’d have to press your face to the glass to see me.

I believed I had a measure of privacy. And each night I stared at my open notebook and waited for something to happen. For writing to happen. But so far, nothing. It had been thirty-nine days since I left Amanda, and I was filled with shame. It seemed to have gotten infected, my shame. I felt feverish. I needed it out of me.

That’s how I was feeling the night Sidney knocked at the window. I was fidgety and stuck in my own head, reliving the moment. I had drawn a picture of myself going back to the island. A stick figure in a terrible little boat. Zooming across scribbled waves. Another stick figure, legs at unnatural angles, inside a lopsided pool. I stared at this picture, kept tracing the lines.

Then, a knock on the window. Before I looked up from the couch, I had this passing thought— please don’t be Sidney —but of course it was. Her long face pressed up against the window and this deep annoyance radiating off me. What I wanted was to see Amanda standing there, one hip turned out, or even my mom, with one of her luxurious hugs that was supposed to make up for all the other stuff , okay baby? I padded over and unlocked the door, just a little, but she slipped inside. She was either not good at reading body language or believed herself capable of overcoming it.

When we sat on the couch, I realized how bad of a state she had caught me in. She was tugging off her coat and setting it aside. It hit me hard then, the need to say things. I’d swallowed this story whole, an entire life. And here was someone who wanted to listen.

I remember rocking on my heels, trying to hold it all in, press it all down. But not possible. Then I was speaking, a torrent of words; and I was sobbing, my eyes puffy. Finally, I was coming down, coming back. And Sidney was close to me, and she felt safe, like dry land. I was surprised to find myself feeling glad she was there. Her body felt good against mine. Her lips were soft and gentle just like I always imagined a woman’s would feel. I liked it.

“Come with me to New York,” she was whispering in my ear. “I’ll make this new life real.”

What I said: Yes .

What I thought: Another door opening.

What happened: a second seismic shift in my story.