CHAPTER TWENTY
Jude
It’s been four years since I’ve felt like my life was out of control. Four years since I worked for the magazine. The moment I came back from my assignment overseas, I molded my life so that I could exist and be happy. I worked, I played soccer, and I picked up fast women. I never once felt like I was lacking anything, so why the hell does it feel that way now?
I pick up my pace, practically sprinting down the blistery city streets. The wind is working against me, pushing my body and adding extra resistance. I use it to work through my anger. I press on harder, whipping around the sidewalk and into Central Park. It’s too early for anyone to be here. Even in New York not many people want to get up and run at five AM, especially in fall. Cold air whips through my black fleece jacket, reminding me of the changing seasons. Does Charley like fall? If I had to guess, she would probably prefer fall and winter to springtime. She just seems like she’d rather curl up by a fire with her paintings instead of dancing in a flowery meadow. Although who would even do that anyway?
She’s called me a dozen times in the past few days, but I haven’t answered. She’s even left a few voicemails, and although I should, I couldn’t force myself to delete those. It seems too final. Not to mention, I know I’ll be desperate in a few days. I’ll need those voicemails for proof that she really did care… on some level.
…
As I round the corner back to my apartment, her little blonde head comes into view. It almost looks like a mirage at first because a perfect angel waiting for me at my doorstep seems too good to be true. But there she is with her hands propping up her chin and her knitted sweater pulled up over her knuckles. She looks like a scared animal, but I can’t pretend she’s that innocent. I can’t pretend that she hasn’t been lying to me, or hell, maybe just lying to herself.
“What are you doing here?” I ask as I approach the weathered stoop that leads into my apartment building. The entire warehouse was refurbished a few years back. Each condo has a wide, open layout and floor to ceiling glass-paneled windows.
When she hears my voice her eyes widen and her head snaps to look in my direction.
“We need to talk.” Her blue eyes plead for me to listen.
“Do we?” I ask, crossing my arms.
She bites her bottom lip and glances away for a moment, down toward the bottom of the stoop. I’d be blind if I didn’t notice her lip quivering or her blue eyes starting to cloud with sadness.
“Yes, Jude. Please,” she finally begs.
“How’d you find out where I live?” I ask in a clipped tone.
“Bennett gave me your address.”
“Huh.” I raise my eyebrows sardonically, “good to know where his loyalties lie…”
“Jude…” she protests, not wanting to drag Bennett down with her.
“Can I just speak to you for a few minutes? If you’re still upset with me after, I’ll understand completely. But I can’t let you assume anything my mother said was true.”
I squeeze my eyes closed, taking a deep inhale, and then I sigh and brush past her. The industrial door to our complex slides open after I tap out the combination key, and without looking back, I start heading to my apartment. If she’s that desperate to talk, then she’ll follow me.
Our footsteps echo across the smooth concrete floor and I almost turn around and cave. It’s torture trying to fight the connection we have but caving now won’t do either of us any good.
The second my apartment door closes and we have privacy, Charley starts speaking so quickly that I can barely make out each syllable. Does she think I’m going to kick her out mid sentence?
“My mother was lying when she said I’m engaged. Well, I was engaged or technically “betrothed” to Hudson when we were in school, but that was just our parents trying to control everything. We never took it seriously, but my mom really thought I’d go through with it. She thought we’d go off to the same college, he would officially propose, and then we’d live happily ever after. I have no clue why she brought that up today. It’s a blatant lie, Jude!”
“Charley, stop!”
My stomach is twisted into a tight knot and I can’t listen to another word she says. Everything she spouts seems to complicate things even more.
“Obviously I know your mom is full of shit, but that’s not what made me leave. It’s the overwhelming secrecy that weighs you down. You won’t let me in. I would’ve known that your mother was lying right away if you had told me anything about her at all.”
I take a deep breath, but I still have so much left to say.
“What happened to your family? Why do you avoid speaking about them?” I pause, glancing up to see if she’ll answer, but when she doesn’t—I keep asking just to prove how much she’s been hiding from me. “How did your father die?”
I grip the side of my black granite counter top. “Is your real name Clarissa? You told me Charley wasn’t a nickname, so is it your middle name? At times I feel like I know nothing about you and it scares the shit out of me. I’ve shown you every demon in my closet, and yet you keep yourself hidden away from the world like a porcelain doll.”
“Jude…” she murmurs, but my name hangs in the air. She still doesn’t answer my questions.
Silence fills my apartment and my heart starts to sink all over again.
“I don’t want to be with someone who can’t be honest with themselves, Charley. I don’t expect you to trust me with everything right away, but I walk on eggshells around you. That’s not what relationships should be like.”
There. I said it.
My hands relax enough for blood to start flowing back into my white knuckles once again, but it takes a few minutes before I can look up at her. When I finally lift my head, her eyes are distant and focused a few feet above me. Her features are relaxed: soft eyes, tan poreless skin, rosy cheeks— but I know there’s a war raging behind that facade.
She doesn’t protest or even offer a rebuttal. She doesn’t have a sudden epiphany and tell me every sad memory from her past. Charley nods her head slowly. Just once. Then she turns and walks out of my apartment and out of my life.