Page 17 of Brighter than the Boss
A calm settled over me, my anger and defensiveness washed away by another flash of clarity. What stood before me was a very wounded man. One disillusioned by life, by circumstance, by default. He was right. I didn't know what he'd been through in life. But I also knew he was wrong. One hundred percent of my being didn't believe for a split second that our past lives or circumstances dictated our future. That was simply bullshit. I felt so strongly about it, I was willing to swear, willing to stick my neck out.
Placing my hand on his arm, ignoring the flinch when I made contact, I stepped even closer, needing him to fully hear me. "You are not your past, Cain. You are this very moment, which is darn convenient because this is the only time you can make a decision about where your life will go in the future. Living in the past means you'll miss out on all the things happening in your present moment. Like us." I squeezed his arm. "Don't live somewhere else. Live here with me in the now, Cain."
I could literally see the moment he shut down. His eyes lost their heat and his face went slack. He was physically present but he was already gone. In that instant, I knew I'd rather take his anger than to see this shell of a man, removed from me entirely. Anger meant he at least felt something.
He shuffled backwards, then spun around to walk out the door. I panicked, not wanting to see him go. Especially not like this.
"Cain! Quit being a victim!"
That stopped him up short, his body frozen, half in the door, half out. He jerked his head but didn't bother to turn back around.
"You don't know shit, Sunshine."
* * *
The next week passed in slow motion. I was out in the sun and sand doing my job with a constant cloud over my head. The fight with Cain kept running through my head, confusing me and making me feel things I didn't want to feel. I was drawn to him, despite how broken he seemed to be. He'd probably flip out if I ever said he was broken out loud as I'm sure he didn't see himself that way. I'd never met anyone like him: charismatic, charming, cutting, and conflicted, all at the same time.
Trying to avoid him at work was becoming a chore, a necessary one, but a pain in the neck just the same. He was my boss, for goodness’ sake. I'd have to interact with him at some point. And I wanted to interact with him when I really dug deep and was being honest with myself. The Cain who teased me and consumed me with his kisses was intoxicating, addicting. Whenever I was tempted to approach him, angry, intimidating Cain flashed through my brain, pulling me back and making me shy.
Phone calls to Mom happened daily, keeping me from losing my sanity. It was hard to pine over a guy when faced with the gravity of life and death and cancer treatments. She was handling things well, leaning on Dad when she was tired after her chemo treatments.
When I showed her my new short ‘do on Skype, she burst out laughing which morphed into crying, and of course, that made me bawl right along with her. Once we pulled ourselves together, she told me she loved it and loved me for doing it. If I couldn't be with her physically, being with her in spirit felt so right. And when her hair started to fall out after only the third chemo session, she kept her chin up and video conferenced me when she had Dad shave it off in their little master bathroom.
The distance was killing me, along with the black cloud that was Cain at work, so I begged my parents to let me fly home for a bit. Mom wouldn't hear of it, knowing just a couple weeks on the job wasn't a good time to take days off. What she didn't know was that I needed her right then just as much as she needed me. I didn't breathe a word about Cain or my troubles at work, however. The woman didn't need anything else to worry about.
I always felt like moving across the country for college was the moment I grew up. This month of man troubles, work troubles, and my mom facing cancer made me realize that all of that was simply child's play. Having to stand on my own two feet and be the solid rock for my parents to lean on was when I finally realized I'd grown up. ’Bout damn time too.
Part of coping with things on my own, I figured a night out with my new girlfriends was just what the doctor ordered. All this sulking and crying was getting to me. Time to turn this frown upside down and shake off this dark cloud. Take back control of my mood. Make like the sea and be happy as a clam. I pulled out all the trite phrases and told Cain to suck it.
In my head, of course.
Before work Friday morning, I group texted the Beach Squad girls to see if they were available for happy hour Saturday night. I wasn't a big drinker, and I figured most of them had dinner plans with their men, so an hour or two in the late afternoon would be perfect for everyone. Enthusiastic replies pinged my phone in rapid succession, with plans to meet at a bar off Main Street at four o'clock materializing without much effort on my part.
Saturday came with clear skies and perfect sunny temps. I slept in, took a class at Strike Ready, then ran errands before coming back home to shower and get ready for happy hour. On a side note, the second good thing about this short hair was that it took literally seconds for me to do my hair now. I like how low maintenance that made me feel.
It may have still been the afternoon, but I dressed like it was a night out on the town. Tight, flirty black dress, bright heeled espadrilles, jewelry, and makeup completed my look. I wasn't a makeup girl, mostly because I was in and out of the water all day, which made it impractical. But I loved playing with it, highlighting my eyes, and contouring my face. I grabbed a small handbag and headed out the door. Chili was not pleased with me leaving him, but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do to turn her attitude around.
I rode my Vespa downtown, a short three-minute ride, looking absolutely ridiculous on my Vespa in a dress and heels, but whatever. The helmet wasn't on long enough to mess up my hair, so all was well. Getting to the bar a bit early, I secured a long table along the side wall. According to the flurry of texts, we'd have a party of eight. I'd met everyone except Sage, who'd be here tonight. I was looking forward to diving into the group's silliness. They were so crazy, you just couldn't hold onto negativity around their antics.
"Sunny!" I heard my name shouted from the doorway, seeing Bailey and Esa traipsing in, dressed similarly to me. A genuine smile took over my face and I knew I'd made the right choice. Tonight would be good for me.
We hugged and then sat, conversation easy and rapid, just waiting for the rest of the group to show up. Mid-story about a crazy customer of Bailey's, Brinley, Autumn, and Shasta walked up to the table and snagged some chairs. Bailey started her story over again as we all ordered our first round. The poor server looked like she could handle our crazy group just fine, but also didn't look too pleased to have to do it. I would make sure we tipped well as a thank you for putting up with us.
Hessa and Sage walked in and took the last two chairs right as the row of vodka shots was placed on the table.
"Who ordered that?" I asked, nose wrinkled in disgust.
"Doesn't matter, drink up," Bailey interjected, wasting no time in handing each of us a glass. "To besties, new and old." She looked at me and then raised her glass above the middle of the table. We all reached up to clink glasses.
"Did you just look at me when you said 'old'?" Shasta asked after we slugged it down and caught our breaths. I almost choked, both from the burn in my esophagus and the indignation on Shasta's face.
Bailey didn't back down. "If you think I was looking at you then you need glasses. Which means what?" She paused. "You old, bitch!" Bailey cackled, the table joining in, even Shasta.
See? This is what I needed.
"So, what's going on in that pretty head of yours, Sunny?" Esa was looking at me, chin in her hand, elbow propped on the table. Like she had all the time in the world to ply me with booze and questions while digging inside my skull.
I gulped down some water before answering, needing to flush the alcohol and needing the time to gather my thoughts. I couldn't tell them about Cain. That would remain our dirty, little secret. The rest was fair game.
