The Space in Between

I saw Daddy cringe as he listened to Mom tear apart the precious moment he had previously built up with me. “Did you just ask if I have an eating disorder? First I’m a drug addict and now I’m anorexic?”

Clearing his throat, Dad wrapped his arm around Mom’s waist and kissed her forehead. “It’s late. I think we should get going. Have a good night sweetie,” He kissed my forehead too and disappeared out of the room, dragging my mom with him.

I stood up to shut the door, and right after it closed there was yet another knock. Leave me alone. Seriously! What didn’t these people understand about that? Swinging the door open, I waited to hear how my mom had planned to unknowingly offend me now.

“I think your hair looks sexy.” Cooper smirked and leaned into the room, moving a piece of my hair behind my ear.

Chapter Twenty-Six

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 f**king 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 f**k 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 f**king 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.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

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.