Fear of Falling(53)

The man that laid beside me today was still confused and outraged but he had begun to heal. He knew that intimacy wasn’t a substitute for affection, but he sought it out anyway. He needed that constant reassurance. He needed the physical reminder that he was a man, that no amount of abuse could strip him of his masculinity. I still hurt for him deeply, but I was honored to love him. He of all people deserved it.

“Kam?” he said, pinching my thigh and breaking me from my morbid account. “Wanna tell me why you’ve been missing Dr. Cole’s appointments?”

I shook my head and resumed putting the tiny origami stars back in the glass jar. “Because I’m not going back. It doesn’t help. And she thinks I’m being irrational.”

Dom let out an exasperated sigh. “You have to talk to somebody, Kam. I’m serious.”

“I talk to you.” I got up and put the jar in its spot on my windowsill before walking over to grab my guitar. I needed a distraction.

“Bullshit. You don’t talk to me. And I’m afraid that I won’t be around when you finally need to talk to me. Please, Kam, give Dr. Cole another chance.”

“Why the hell is she calling you about me anyway? You aren’t my father. Doesn’t that break some kinda patient-doctor confidentiality?”

“She didn’t tell me what you two talk about,” he replied, rolling his beautiful eyes. “Her office called to find out what’s been going on.”

“Mmm hmm,” I said, lightly strumming the strings. I was done talking. Nothing Dom could say would make me go back to therapy. It was a waste of time and money.

Dom got the hint and sat up with a huff. He knew I wouldn’t budge. “Fine. But the moment you feel yourself losing control, you come to me. Ok? Don’t give me that “I’m fine” bullshit. Next week, we look for another therapist.”

I nodded and just kept thrumming, getting lost in the melody that had been stuck on a continuous loop in my head for days. I hadn’t played for weeks but, for some reason, I felt the need to let my emotions trickle out in song. It flowed easily, and before I even realized it, I was humming, and the story was slowly coming into focus.

It was a song about hope and longing. About wanting something so bad but feeling too afraid to admit it. About fighting against fear and denial and letting in the unknown. The song swelled and flourished, the picture behind my closed eyelids becoming brighter and clearer. Hums turned into lyrics and the tune took on a life of its own, only using me as the vessel. And once it began to climax, the anticipation building deliciously, the picture came into focus, and I nearly broke into a sob.

Blaine. All I could see was Blaine. He was the muse for every song, every painting, every dream. He occupied my deepest, most intimate desires, and hindered my past pains from consuming me with his touch.

It had always been Blaine. I just wasn’t ready to see it.





I wasn’t sure what I would tell him, but I knew it was time. I couldn’t keep fighting what my soul so desperately needed. Him. His presence, his smile, his words. They were all necessary. It was the thought of not having those things that sent me into a panic. It was even stronger than the anxiety I felt at the decision to let him in.

But of course, life had different plans. It always did. It never stuck to the script that you had rehearsed in your head a dozen times. It didn’t give a shit about crushing your expectations, causing you to second guess what you were so certain about just moments ago.

We had been at work for a couple hours when life decided to remind me just what a bitch it could be. Things had been better since Thursday. Pleasant. Blaine insisted I take Friday off after my meltdown, and I was too humiliated to argue with him. It’s not that he made me feel embarrassed for losing it behind the bar. It was the total opposite, actually. He was sweet, gentle, patient. He was exactly what I needed. What I wanted.

AngelDust had just kicked off their set with one of their newer up-tempo songs, when Kenneth approached the bar with some of his buddies. I was shaking my hips as I flitted behind the bar, serving customers with an easy smile, as I sang along to the provocative tune. The moment his eyes locked with mine, I froze, nearly sending the highball glass in my hand crashing to the ground. Kenneth looked just as surprised before his mouth turned up into a smug smile.

“So I see you landed on your feet, Kamilla,” he said coolly. He refused to call me Kami, no matter how many times I corrected him.

“Yeah,” I rasped, my throat tight. My heart was hammering in my chest, and I was certain he could see it through my thin, snug tee.

“I have to say, I’m disappointed. A woman with your…skill set, working at a bar? Hmph.”