Page 44 of Crashing Into Me
ONE WEEK.SEVEN days. A hundred and sixty-eight hours since she’d ripped herself away, and Lana lay curled in the suffocating darkness of her new bedroom, where she had spent the majority of that time. The townhouse, a bland, unfamiliar space meant to signify a fresh start, mocked her with its emptiness. Unpacked boxes, silent sarcophagi of her old life, stood stacked in corners, mute witnesses to her self-inflicted exile. The duffel bag from Hamby, a relic of the aborted vacation that had started this entire, devastating chapter, still lay discarded on the floor where she’d dropped it, its zipper a stark line across its crumpled canvas.
Her old apartment lease had conveniently run up, a cruel twist of fate that had allowed her to escape without further questions. It had been a fast transition, a dizzying blur of phone calls and signed papers. The townhouse was only a few miles from her former building, making the move "easy-peasy" when you hired the help. She had clung to the hope that the physical change, the blank slate of new walls, would help her.
But it didn't. Not an inch. Each morning she woke, a leaden weight settled in her chest, the same dread, the same aching void she felt every morning she woke away from Kayden. The air in the new place was sterile, lacking the lingering scent of his skin, the faint echo of his laughter, the very things that now felt like a missing piece of her own soul.
Her cellphone had long since died, a dark, inert rectangle on her nightstand, and she purposefully hadn’t charged it. It was a self-imposed amputation, a necessary barrier against the relentless assault of his love, his confusion, his pain. She couldn’t ignore his calls for fear of picking up, of hearing his voice, of letting the raw emotion in his desperate pleas unravel her already frayed composure. And she certainly couldn’t listen to his recorded messages; she knew they would be filled with agony, with questions she couldn't answer, with a love she couldn't accept.
Each imagined voicemail was a bullet, and she couldn't endure the inevitable falling to pieces. She didn’t want to talk to anyone, and didn't want to see anyone, anyway. The thought of engaging with the world, of pretending to be okay, was an unbearable weight. It was easier to sleep away the pain, to dive into the numbing oblivion of unconsciousness, than to accept the crushing reality that he was truly gone from her life for good.
Easier than facing the images of his heartbroken face, than feeling the phantom touch of his hand. Easier than admitting the devastating truth of her own sacrifice. Lana squeezed her eyes shut for the third time that day, pressing her palms against her temples, willing herself to stop the fresh wave of tears, to silence the agonizing echoes of his name in her mind, and to fall back into the blessed darkness of sleep again. Just for a little while longer. Just until the pain dulled.
16
edge of anger
Nearly a month had passed since she’d left Hamby, yet Lana still couldn’t decide whether everything that happened there had been real or some elaborate illusion. She jogged along the trail at her favorite beachside park, trying to coax her life back into something resembling normal.. The vast green palm trees gave little shade as the sun was high and scorching, dripping sweat as if she’d just stepped out of a shower. Slowing to a stop, she bent forward, her hands on her knees to catch her breath. Although hot, the feel of the sun was welcome after weeks of being trapped in the snow with him.
The snowstorm heading out of Georgia had gotten better the farther she drove away from Hamby, but the effects of the weather had taken their toll on her truck. While at a rest stop, in between fits of rage and anger, the truck wouldn’t start, and she had to call Triple-A to rescue her. They took her to a car rental company, where she was able to get a small mid-sized vehicle to take her the rest of the way home, thankfully.
She still thought about calling Kayden back every second of every day, and she had over a hundred missed calls from him—her voicemail box still untouched. Lana couldn’t bring herself to listen to any of them. The sound of his voice mightsend her running back to Hamby, and she knew full well the consequences of what would happen if she did. She stood up straight and turned the volume up on her earbuds, then sprinted down the track again, as if someone was chasing her. As long as she could keep the up-tempo beats in her ears, her running shoes in motion, and feel the burn in her legs, she didn’t have time to think of anything else.
AFTER HER RUN,Lana walked her throbbing legs into her small townhouse, still trying to catch her breath. She threw her keys on the small table by the front door and stretched her arms as she stood in the living room. Her new place wasn’t fancy. It was minimal, a lovely couch, a decent-sized TV on the wall, with a bookshelf filled with every novel she owned. It was all she needed, and she was content with that. She didn’t own the house, so painting was out of the question, but she did her best to bring color into her domicile with throw rugs and pillows to add a pop of color here and there.
Entering the kitchen, she opened the fridge, and it was bare save for a bottle of water. She had no appetite as of late and didn’t feel the need to grocery shop. The answering machine light on her home phone in the small kitchen was blinking, and she knew it was the representative from the state board of Nursing, informing her that her license was OK. Although Maureen didn’t report her to the police as promised, someone contacted the board and filed a complaint against her, putting her license under review and removing her from the ER until her file was reviewed.Probably Kim,she thought at the time.
She grabbed the water bottle, chugged it, and tossed the empty container into the trash. She had been struggling withwhether to return to work anyway, and this time off gave her the space she needed to sort it all out. With all her free time, her new itinerary was spent hanging out with Carmen, hitting the clubs, or at home watching Netflix—anything to numb her pain. Although clubs never were her scene, they served as a much-needed distraction.
While stretching her hamstrings, she caught herself wishing she could talk to someone—anyone. A therapist crossed her mind more than once, but the thought of making that call left her frozen. She couldn’t trust her voice with the truth of what had happened; instead, she ran and danced until the memories blurred around the edges.
Inside the living room, she peeled off her Nikes and sank into the chair at her computer desk. Her toes burned as she pressed them against the cool floorboards for relief. With a deep breath, she pulled up an application for Nurses Without Borders, a travel program guaranteed to push her miles past anything familiar.
The N.O.B. association helped other countries with poor health services, and she struggled with whether she should go. It would be nice to give back, but hitting “apply” had a lot of implications that came with it. She guided her mouse to a new tab and opened a search engine. In the search box, she typed: “Kayden Capshaw Wedding.” And there it was—a Page Six announcement of his pending nuptials to Kim. It had only been a month since everything went down, and she had to hand it to Maureen.
She knew her son better than Lana ever would. Kim swooped in just as she said she would, comforting him in his time of need. Maybe shewasjust a phase for him. She shook the thought away as her eyes welled with tears. Glancing down at her cell phone, she picked it up, turned it on, and hit the voicemail button for the first time since leaving Hamby. She drew in a deep breathand held it as she put it to her ears. Then she heard his voice, and in an instant, the swirl of memories engulfed her, and suddenly she was back in the house, lying in bed with him, her head on his chest, cooking dinner in the kitchen, reading poetry by the fire, making love.
His messages went from fear to disbelief to anger. Every human emotion a person could have, Kayden left in her voicemail box. She could only hope that he didn’t spiral out of control and start drinking and making irrational decisions like he did before. She pressed the phone for the following message, and it was a woman’s voice. It was Paula. Lana braced herself, fearing a lecture, a heartbroken accusation, or even worse, a fresh wave of Maureen’s manipulations filtering through a well-meaning friend. But Paula’s voice, though tight with restrained emotion, carried a different current entirely—one of fierce loyalty and grim determination.
Paula wasted no time. She explained that she had been looking in on the house during her vacation in Hawaii, and explained that she hadn't onlyseenthe cruel orchestrations of her mother and Kim; she had captured them.
"I've got everything, Lana," Paula stated, her voice firm. "Proof. Visuals. Dates. The whole ugly truth. And I'm ready to present it to Kayden. We need to expose them together."
A dizzying surge of something akin to hope, raw and terrifying, shot through Lana. But the path to revealing the truth to Kayden felt like walking through fire, unsure if anything pure could survive the flames, and that message was already three weeks old. Lana put the phone down, and for a second, she was happy to hear that. But her cynicism wouldn’t allow her to believe that the evidence would make a difference. Maureen was cunning, with her talons deep in everyone around her. She didn’t have the stamina to fight with her or Kim anymore. All the fight left when she ran out of Hamby.
Hopefully, he will see the videos and understand why I did what I did,she thought. But going back to Hamby was out of the question for Lana, and there wasn’t much that would make her change her mind. Not even her best friend.
KIM TIPTOEDINTO the living room from the guest room at Paula’s, wearing only panties and a pair of heels. She had been trying to get Kayden’s mind offthat dumb girlfor weeks, and nothing was working. Finally, she thought she had to be bold and would surprise him with something she knew he always enjoyed.
Kayden was sitting at the dining table, going over the blueprints for his house, and his mind was clearly preoccupied. He had bags under his eyes, and his temper had been getting the best of him lately, but she wouldn’t let that deter her. Kim walked up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder, startling him, and he jumped.
“Damnit, Kim!” He spun around.
She jumped back, covering her bare chest with her hands.
“I’m sorry. I wanted to surprise you,” she replied.
“What in the hell are you doing? Put some clothes on!” He snapped.
Her eyes filled with tears, and she ran towards the guest bedroom —“her bedroom” — and slammed the door behind her. Kayden returned to his plans, hunched over the table, and continued to study them. He may have agreed to marry that girl, but only on paper. Nothing said he ever had to touch her.
