Page 329 of As the Rain Falls
“She can take another hour to order for all I care. Who’s in a rush anyway?” I mutter, tossing my napkin onto my plate. I fish my phone from my pocket, not sparing him a glance. “I have to make a call. Angie, don’t let them eat my food.”
Angelina grins knowingly, big brown eyes shining up at me. She gives me a thumbs-up. “Gotcha!”
***
I make my way from the restaurant to the parking lot. Yellow sand gathers around the building, and the leaves of the large palm tree next to it sway back and forth. Cassandra crouches beneath it, back against the trunk, face buried in her knees.
It takes me a moment to decide on what to do before lowering myself to her level, brushing my fingers against the soft skin of her elbow.
“Baby?”
The thing about Cassandra is that she wears all her emotions on her sleeve. It shows when she’s uncertain, especially when it’s about herself.
I find the signs in the little things. The dresses that reveal more skin, as if she wants to be noticed, only for her to shrink the moment she is. The foundation she uses to cover her little imperfections, only to hate the feeling of it when the heat rises too much. How she fights the urge to bite her nails around me but always loses herself to the nervous habit.
Cassandra second-guesses herself, particularly when she knows no one will back her up. It’s a pattern, because there was a time someone important to her didn’t. And yet, she’s always trying so hard to be digestible, posed.
It shows. I see it. I get it. The girl hiding underneath, my girl. The one who gravitates towards old bands, action movies when they come on TV, and silly jokes fighting to break through. But what happened with Nathaniel and Caleb is making her want to bury herself.
I can’t let her do that.
“Cassandra?”
She raises her head, and I’m almost relieved to see she’s not crying.
“Hi, Beckett.”
“Hi.”
Her face twists, uncertain. “Is there something wrong?”
“I was about to ask you the very same question.”
The waves crash in the distance, far away from us, their sounds carried on the wind as if they’re closer.
“I’m fine; I just needed a minute.” She bites her lip. “He made me mad, that’s all.”
“Is it about the food?” I ask, wanting to be sure.
“Yes,” she admits with a light cough, lowering her arms and leaning back against the trunk. I can see her face more clearly now. “I can’t eat all that.”
I’ve seen her eat before, twice as much as we’re eating now. I wonder what’s different about today.
“I only really wanted the fries and the salad.” She sighs, avoiding my gaze. “And now I’m… I don’t know. Nervous, I guess.”
“Okay. That’s fair. I’d be nervous, too.”
The corner of her lips twitch, cracks into a tiny smile.
“No, you wouldn’t.”
“Be nice. I’m trying to empathize here.”
“I don’t think anyone can.” She unclips her hair, letting the strands frame her face. “I have a very specific kind of brain.”
“That’s…”
I remember yelling at my mom as a kid after she washed my favorite teddy bear. My scent was gone, leaving me in overwhelming distress. Later as a teen, I’d panic over following instructions, neglecting my most important tasks, which often led me to spiral.
