19. Regretfully Yours, Cain
REGRETFULLY YOURS, CAIN
FAITH
F or Christmas, I get a pair of boots, a jacket, and oh so many books. I can’t even return them because these are from the town, and not a specific person, not Cain.
Every time I go into town, people stop and talk to me. No one seems to mind that I’m a bartender at a strip club.
People are nice .
Cain comes by all the time—usually after he closes Ripley’s. He sits at the bar with a book, leaves it behind, and a couple of days later talks to me about it.
Tonight, he taps the paperback copy of Love in the Time of Cholera . “What did you think?” he asks, like it’s some kind of test he hopes I’ll pass.
I glance at the book, then at him.
He hasn’t even glanced at the stage, where a blonde in thigh-highs is climbing that pole with the determination of someone chasing rent money on a deadline.
Cain doesn’t look. Doesn’t leer. His whiskey’s still mostly full.
He’s here for me.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
“I think the book is about obsession.” I wipe down the bar even though it’s already clean. “Florentino doesn’t love Fermina. He wants her because she said no.”
Cain nods slowly. “That’s one way to read it.”
“It’s the only way that doesn’t feel like a lie,” I reply, not looking at him. “He didn’t wait out of devotion. He waited because he couldn’t let go of the version of her he invented.”
Cain is quiet for a moment, then says, “So you’re saying love doesn’t wait?”
“What Florentino feels is obsession. He mistakes it for love.” I pause. “Sometimes people feel guilt and mistake that for love.”
Flinch .
I refill his water glass. His fingers brush mine and stay just a second too long.
“I didn’t come here to argue literary theory,” he says quietly.
“No?” I drop the rag on the bar counter and cross my arms. “Then why are you here, Cain?”
His gaze lifts to mine.
It’s steady.
Unapologetic.
Devastated.
“To see you,” he says.
I want to scoff. I want to scorn. I want to say, “ Go fuck yourself. ”
But I don’t. Because God help me, part of me still wants to be seen…by him .
It’s a slow courtship.
Winter gives way to Spring, and Cain and I continue over books and pole dancing women he doesn’t even look at.
I speak with Cain’s parents over the phone. I’m careful, they’re loving and affectionate.
I don’t leave Silverton.
I start saving again.
Not to run, but to build?
I move out of the motel and rent a small apartment over Let’s Read , the only bookstore in Silverton. The owner, Jackie Jones, is a riot and a half—and we’ve become friends.
Actually, I have more friends than I did in Seattle; partly because I’m not dating a douchebag, and because Silverton is making amends.
I mention that to Cain, and he smiles. “Then you’ll stay, won’t you?”
I don’t give him an answer, but he knows, as I do, that I’m staying. I’m healing. This place is good for me.
The ugliness of what happened is still within me, but not taking center stage any longer.
I see Melody and Paula from time to time. I ignore them. I walk away. I have nothing to say to them.
“You don’t want to punch them and break their noses?” Onyx asks once when we see them at The Rooster, a bar on Main Street.
Those two are still thick as thieves. You’d think after everything that happened—Kyle dumping Paula, Cain and their parents cutting her off, even going so far as to kick her out of the house—she might’ve changed? But no. Nothing’s different. She and Melody are still inseparable.
“Nope. Don’t want to punch anyone.”
“Well, I do.”
I have a normal life again. A simple one. It’s the best life I’ve ever had. It’s even better than how it was when I first came to Silverton. Now, people know me. People see me.
Cain sees me.
Slowly but steadily, the ice walls around my heart are thawing—and it’s not painful to let go. In fact, it’s pleasant.
I’m starting to believe that maybe the world isn’t all bad—that there is still good.
I smile when I see Cain. I don’t have to force a plastic one. It’s real.
No one in my life has taken such care with me.
He did wrong, and I may never give myself to him or anyone else again—because healing only goes so far, but I can talk to him, be near him, enjoy him.
Liar, liar, pants on fire!
Sheesh!
Okay, I’m still attracted to him and want him.
I still love him.
I still have dreams that we’ll end up together, somehow , though I don’t know how. I can’t see a future with him, but I want it, which is scary, so I bury it deep, deep, deep inside.
“Hey.” He’s coming earlier in the day now, before we open at noon.
I’m restocking the bar and thank him when he helps, carrying boxes from the storage room.
Ricky teases that he’s not going to pay Cain, and enjoys the free labor.
Cain counters, “The minute she lets me, I’m hiring her back at Ripley’s—so enjoy it while you can.”
I haven’t been in Ripley’s since I was arrested. It’s not something I’m able to do. I’m managing better with what happened to me, but it doesn’t change how my gut tightens even as I walk past Cain’s place.
He knows. He doesn’t push.
“So…I was wondering if you’d like to go on a date with me.”
I jerk my head too fast and bump it against the lip of the bar as I’m bringing up bottles.
He starts rubbing the bruised area. “ Ouch! You okay, sweet thing?”
Sweet thing!
The man needs to stop calling me that. He doesn’t do it all the time because I told him not to, but he does it when he’s not paying attention, like now, when he wants to soothe.
I like it.
I hate that I like it.
But I like it.
A lot.
“Date?”
He nods.
I lick my lips.
“Just simple. No drama.”
I want to say no. There’s no profit in seeing him again. He’s a reminder of things lost.
“Okay.”
What the fuck, Faith?
“Really?”
I roll my eyes.
He pulls me into a hug and smacks his mouth against mine. It’s a playful kiss.
“Tomorrow at eleven.”
“In the morning?” I ask as he’s leaving Nectar.
“Yeah.”
“I have a shift.”
“Already talked to Ricky. He’s giving you time off.” He blows me a kiss and waves before disappearing.
I press my palms against the counter, exhaling slowly.
What are you doing, Faith?
I don’t know.
Yes, you do. You’re playing with fire.