Page 74 of My Sweetest Agony
I can’t take another sleepless night.
So, even though it’s wrong, I still found myself driving down to where I found his bike parked for his meeting that first time, hoping it would be in the same spot.
I still waited until he appeared again, sticking a cigarette into his mouth and lighting it up as he stalked back to his ride.
I still sat mesmerized as he smoked it slowly, leaning against the seat, looking absolutely destroyed with his hair disheveled and his hand shaking until he smashed the butt on the sidewalk and rode away.
I still followed him through evening traffic to Frankford and watched him park his bike on the side of this building and go inside.
I did it all, knowing it was wrong.
Just like I knew it was wrong to kiss him the other night, to push him to act when I needed him to be something for me that he shouldn’t have been.
He may have left me that note, but I’m the one who should be apologizing…for all of it.
For relying on him so heavily to get me through this when he’s struggling himself, which I could clearly see tonight.
His eyes were dark when he came out of that meeting. His shoulders were tight under his leather jacket. His entire body seemed to vibrate with a barely restrained tension that he needed to release.
But whatever he’s doing in this building, he hasn’t come out.
And I haven’t mustered up the courage to go in after him.
Night has fully fallen now, that last thin streak of light dipping behind the horizon, casting an eerie, unnerving darkness onto the street and the buildings that line it.
I can’t sit out here in my car anymore.
This might be my only chance to talk to Cam. My sole opportunity to make any sense of the madness that happened the other night and to apologize for my role in it.
And I can’t pass it up.
My hand trembles as I pop open the car door, and I step out onto the street, staring up at the building. No one else has gone in or exited since Cam arrived, the windows all unlit, save for some on the top floor.
I cross to that side of the street and stare at the entrance. Flaked-off lettering on the glass door announces it as a textile manufacturer, but given the state of the building and the signage, I don’t think that’s accurate any longer.
So many properties in this area have been abandoned, left to rot away rather than anyone taking on the task of trying to save them until more recently. This building appears to have survived the worst that time attempted to do to it.
It stands straight and tall.
Worn.
A little rough around the edges.
But strong.
There’s something almost charming about it, and I reach forward and try the door, which tugs open easily. Either Cam left it unlocked, or it never had a working one to begin with.
Goosebumps pebble across my skin as I step inside, instantly scanning the small vestibule for any evidence of where Cam might have gone and why.
Several hand-written signs taped to the wall and arrows pointing down a hallway indicate that the first floor is occupied by a ballet studio. The list of class times below it shows there will be a late class in about an hour—likely why the door was left open. The second floor appears to be occupied by a tech company that would be closed this time of night, if its hours of operation below the name are correct.
Which means Cam likely went to the top floor.
Music floats down the massive metal staircase to my left, and I take the treads up on shaky legs. The higher I climb, the louder the thumping notes and strong vocals become until I reach the third-floor landing.
Heavy steel doors stand slightly ajar in front of me, allowing the deep bass of the song playing from within to slip out to where I stand.
There isn’t any signage to indicate what lies behind them or why Cam might be here, why this is where he fled to after his meeting, when he appeared so shaken and out of sorts.
