Fear of Falling(116)

I missed him. Missed him like hell. But this was better for him. He deserved a healthy, loving relationship. One where the girl worshipped the ground he walked on and showered him with affection. Someone who didn’t break down when fear swallowed her whole. Blaine deserved normal, and I was far from that. And that was ok. I had come to grips with that fact. I could want the best for him and know that it wasn’t me, and still manage to be happy for him. Eventually.

That was the noble thing to believe. But loving someone, yet knowing that you could never be with them, doesn’t make them any easier to forget. If anything, it just made you want them more.

You see, the heart was a stubborn, selfish bastard. It didn’t let go easily. It never did what the brain commanded, no matter how badly you tried to push it into detachment. It kept on feeling just like it kept on beating. And the more you tried to deny it of what it wanted, the more it pined for that forbidden piece of fruit, the stronger the craving grew. So while it became less painful to accept that Blaine and I could never be, it felt like my heart would explode every time I thought of his playful smile. Or remembered the way he smelled. Or daydreamed about the feel of his bare skin against mine.

I didn’t let myself wonder if he missed me too. I wasn’t a total glutton for punishment. I knew Blaine wouldn’t stay single for long. It had been months. Months without any contact whatsoever. He never tried to see me after I dismissed him at the hospital. No phone call, not even a text. He was done with me, and I should have been satisfied with that result. I had been right all along. I told him I wasn’t the girl he was looking for. I just hate that I had let myself try to be.

I’d probably always love Blaine Jacobs. But I also loved him enough to let him go.

“Hey Kam?”

I looked up from the piece of paper I had been mindlessly folding into a crane. In the past few months, my collection had tripled in size. Luckily, Dom had suggested I donate most of the pieces to the center where he worked. The kids loved them so much that he arranged a special origami class once a week. Of course, it took many hours of begging to persuade me to do it, but after I saw how much those children enjoyed it, I was sold. Many of them were suffering from self-esteem and anxiety issues. Origami gave them an outlet. It was therapeutic. To be able to take a blank sheet of paper, something that is often discarded or ripped to shreds, and create something beautiful and graceful with it…it really put things in perspective for me.

I smiled at my best friend and roommate and waved him in. “’Sup? How was work?”

Dom strolled in, loosening his tie. His brownish green eyes looked weary though they still sparkled. “Tiring. Had a young girl come in today, probably around 11 or 12, and already very sexually active. Her mom can’t get through to her and if she doesn’t get help, that girl is gonna be sitting on Maury’s couch within a year.”

“Yikes. That’s tricky.”

“Yeah,” he replied, flopping back on my bed. “But that’s not the worst part. I’m pretty certain she’s been sexually abused.”

I tossed the crane on my nightstand and gave Dom my undivided attention. “What? Are you sure?”

“Yeah. All the signs are there. And if I’m right, her promiscuity is a result of whatever trauma she’s experienced. So talking to me won’t help. It will only scare her more.”

“Have you tried?”

“Of course! At first, she clammed up. Then—and I swear, I did nothing to provoke it—she came onto me. This child was trying to proposition me for sex!”

I shook my head. “Oh my God.”

Dom reached over and grasped my hand the way he did when he was about to ask me for a favor. I braced myself. “I need you on this, Kam. Please. Maybe you could talk to her?”

“Me? How could I be of any help?”

“Because you can relate. She needs another female to talk to about this. She’d be more open with you. Plus, you’re amazing, Kam. No bullshit. You’ve overcome so much and have turned out better for it. And whether you want to believe it or not, you are warm and nurturing. Kinda like how I imagined my own mother would have been like. You’d put her right at ease.”

Tears glazed my eyes as I shook my head. “Damn you, Dominic Trevino. Playing the Mother Card. That’s a low blow.”

“You’re sweet and comforting,” he continued, knowing he had hit my soft spot. “The sound of your voice just draws people in. Makes them listen. You’re absolutely the most selfless, good-hearted person I have ever met.”

“So not true,” I mumbled.