Chapter 42
Reed
Ihad been concerned about Cici when I peeked in her classroom and she was nowhere to be found, but that quickly turned to worry when she rushed into the PTA meeting, nearly late, dropping her things off on the side of the stage.
From a few rows back, I kept my eye on her as she fumbled with the bracelets on her wrists and twisted the curls at her shoulders around and around her finger.
She was never nervous about these meetings, but I supposed the topic at hand was a heavy one for her.
Still, it killed me watching her look so helpless.
She stepped up to the podium after being introduced as the founder’s granddaughter. She stared into the audience, her eyes frozen open.
Blink, baby. Blink.
Her lashes finally fluttered closed, and she found her voice, but it was far less powerful than it usually was.
“My grandmother believed the education of our youth was the most effective way to make the world a better place and give the future hope,” she began, clenching the notes she wasn’t even using.
Her shoulders squeezed tight to her ears, and her shaking hands clenched into fists, destroying her notes.
Her gaze lacked any emotion and didn’t confidently wander the crowd; instead, she stared straight ahead, giving her speech to someone invisible in the back of the room.
I wrangled with the need to run up there and massage her shoulders and hold her hand to help her get through it.
She finished quickly and stepped to the side of the room. As she gulped down water, some spilled on her shirt, and she mouthed “Fuck” before wiping at the wet material.
Karen spoke into the microphone, explaining how students in fourth through eighth grade created a performance based on one of the five Grace Vilotta HEART visions.
The first group walked onto the stage as moms and dads cheered and whistled all around me. A child walked to the front, holding a big sign with the letter H.
“Honesty,” he belted to the crowd, “is more than not lying.” Another child stepped forward. “It is being truthful to others.” A third child joined them and added, “It is being truthful to yourself.” The fourth finished with, “It’s doing what’s right, regardless of who is around.”
I glanced over at Cici, whose shoulders were slumped forward in defeat.
I knew this day would impact her, but I never would have imagined it would affect her this much.
Not in this way. When we spoke last night, she seemed excited to celebrate her grandmother, not have a day of grieving.
But who was I to speak on that? I knew the pain grief could bring.
How it could sneak up on you when you least expected it.
Happy times could quickly turn sad when that pain decided to visit.
Usually, when I looked her way, or when she peered at me, our eyes would find each other. Like our souls were magnets, always seeking each other out. But she didn’t look my way. Instead, her hand lifted to her face and wiped.
Oh shit.
She was wiping tears.
A song began, tearing my focus from her back to a choir of completely off-key singing. “Honesty is the best policy…”
In my periphery, I caught Cici sneaking out the side door. She clearly didn’t want to be followed, but nothing could keep me away. A quick turn down the hallway, and I spotted her. Leaning against the wall, curled into herself. My heart leaped into my throat.
The chorus muffled through the walls as I stopped and stood silently at her side. She was frozen, other than her chest heaving with rapid breaths. Her sniffles filled the hall, but no words, like she was hiding.
I couldn’t hold back from rubbing her back, slow strokes up and down. Her upper body lurched forward with a sob. “Shhhh,” I soothed. “Baby, it’s okay. I’m here.”
She stood up so quickly, I had to snap my head up and back to miss being headbutted. She shushed me back, but hers was missing the note of comfort. It was more of a hiss, a warning, and the wideness in her red eyes told me she meant it.
“You can’t call me baby here,” her breathless voice cracked.
Tears still streamed down her face, but the ferocity behind her words didn’t match the vulnerability of her weeps.
I took a step back, my hands in front of me.
I wanted to shush her again but was afraid that would pull her further into the emotions she was clearly falling into.
“Okay, Cici,” I exaggerated, making sure she noted that I called her by name, per her pleading request. “What’s going on?”
She crossed her arms, hugging herself, crumpling.
Her shoulders heaved up and down, her breaths short and labored.
Her whimper nearly tore me in half. I was her person, and she needed me, so I leaned down, fitting myself in her collapsed space, and braced myself on her crossed arms. “Cienna, please tell me what’s going on? ”
She took a deep breath, but the exhale shuddered out. Her sobs were deep and wavering, but she choked out two words. “We. Can’t.”
She lifted her head, and the sight nearly did me in as she gasped for breath.
She shook, and it took her real effort just to stand up straight.
I stood before her, close enough to wipe a tear, but her face was streaked.
Not drops, a flood. Her tortured eyes met mine, and my stomach dropped.
I knew what I was seeing. Sheer panic. But this time, a little graze of my thumb on her lip wasn’t going to fix it.
Her arms dropped to her sides, and I grasped her shoulders to prevent her from collapsing.
“Cici, you need to sit back down,” I whispered.
She shook her head in quick, repeated jerks, so I held her shoulders until she finally rested her head against my chest. The feel of her leaning on me shot relief through my senses, letting everything still for a few moments.
Her breathing slowed. Her trembling stopped, and she finally calmed.
I kissed the top of her head, letting out a sigh of my own.
She took a step back, looking down at her feet, and the loss of contact came with an emptiness in my chest, a cold spot where her head had just been.
Her eyes met mine, and where I was normally met with a glimmer of tenderness, they were hollow.
Nearly black, only made more striking by the red rings around them. “We can’t do this, Reed.”
There were so many things she could be referring to. Talking in the hallway. Choosing a DJ instead of a band for the dance. But I knew what she was leading to.
Forced conviction stilled my body, and I listened to her continue.
“All day, I’ve been reminded of my grandmother’s vision.
The H, Reed.” She placed her hand on her chest, and I could practically hear her heart racing.
“It stands for honesty.” She shook her head, looking at her feet.
Her voice quaked as I tried to make sense of her words—something about Jill, Abigail, and vanilla?
She shook, choking out a spew of words. “Do you know how hard it is to teach a five-year-old about honesty, listen to a ten-year-old’s poem about honesty, and know that the greatest part of my life is a lie?”
Curling back into herself, she looked so defeated, and my heart wanted to reach out, heave her into me, carry her over my shoulder, and leave. But my mind said no. We were on the verge of so much hurt.
She continued through soft sobs. “Abigail is part of a lie that she doesn’t even know about.”
Abigail. Her world played a part in all of this.
And just like that, my heart didn’t matter, hers did.
Cici continued, a storm of words. “I’m so ashamed, Reed.
” She finally looked up at me, and I wasn’t sure what she saw reflected back at her, but she paused.
Her focus darted all over my face like she was taking in every feature of whatever expression it wore.
“What would she think?”
I knew she was referring to her grandmother. “She’d think you’re dedicated to this school. She’d be so proud of you. I can’t imagine anyone not seeing how amazing you are.”
She shook head.
“What about us?” My voice rose, the words exploding from me, and her eyes went wide.
I quieted my words and connected my hand with hers.
“You don’t think she’d be happy about you and me?
” I gestured back and forth in the little space between us.
“You don’t think she would be happy that we found each other? That we found love?”
Her eyes shot to me, and I took a step back. Fuck. I said the word. Maybe I didn’t say it directly, but the word was out there now. Spinning in the space between us.
I took another step back, feeling the L-word evaporating the further our bodies were apart. “So what now, then?”
A fresh tear rolled down her cheek. I wanted to wipe it away so badly. To hold her face in my hand, gently kiss her lips, and tell her to start over. Start this stupid conversation over so we wouldn’t crumble everything we had together in this hallway.
“We wait.” Her eyes searched mine, her body leaning toward me, like a string was pulling her my way. “Until after the decision is made.”
I’d like to say I saw red. That I flashed with heated anger, truly outraged. But I didn’t. The hurt on her face told me she didn’t want that. But regardless, she was requesting it.
“You’re telling me… You want to hold off?” I tossed up air quotes. “On our relationship, on the impact you’ve had on Abigail, until when? The end of the school year? Months from now?”
Her chest heaved, holding back sobs, but she nodded. “I… care about you so much, Reed, but I am trying to protect Abigail as much as you are. She can’t be put in the middle of this.” She mimicked my gesture from before. That, I agreed with.
“Fuck that. Take me out of the picture because I’ve been walked away from before. I know how to do this. But what do you think that will do to Abi?” My hands flew up, regardless of my controlled voice. “You will be another person missing in her life.”
“I’ll see her every day,” she pleaded.
“Will you bake bombas?”
She gnawed her lip, swaying her body slightly. No response as she stared at her feet.
“Will you read her stories before she gets tucked in?”
She sobbed, her hands covering her face.
“Will you have movie nights with pizza?”
Her teary eyes met mine. My words hit hard, and she had no retort, but she didn’t relent.
I took another step back, my arms finding their way to my pockets. A safe place for them to be at the moment. “Okay, Cici. We can’t. Your words. Not mine.”
She nodded as she wiped her hands across her wet cheeks.
“I’ll give you space, then. We will give you space.
” I nodded curtly, my jaw clenched. I took three more steps back and had to catch my breath as suffocating pain wrapped around my chest. I ached for her, I ached for myself, and my heart plummeted at the thought of Abigail.
“I’ll start now, but let me be the one to walk away for once. ”
I turned and trudged through the halls, in earshot of the auditorium, and waited for the PTA attendants and students to fizzle out.
I walked in, greeted by committee members gathered around the tables, some sitting, some up and chatting.
Cienna snuck in and sat at the farthest end of the table from me, scrolling through her phone, looking more disheveled than I’d ever seen her.
Even first thing in the morning, pre-coffee and shower.
Her face was blotched with redness and her eyes were bloodshot, but she gave a weak smile to those who greeted her. No one questioned her tears today.
I faced away from her as Jill clapped for our attention and began.
Nothing made its way through my thoughts as she spoke.
My mind was a fog of pain, swirled with confusion.
When I heard my name, I snapped my attention to Jill.
My eyes automatically flashed to Cici, and she was looking at me questioningly.
“Yeah, what’s up?” My blasé response earned me a side-eye from Jill.
“I wanted an update on the baking and if you will need volunteers.”
I glanced at Cienna, then back to Jill. My jaw tightened as I spoke.
“We decided not to go with bombolini.” I sat back in my chair, and a flit of hurt, then resilience, sliced through me.
“Home-baked goods are a little too cozy.” I quirked my brow and addressed the entire group.
“So we decided to get a catered cake, something more professional.”
Jill sneered, “So no little donuts, then?”
I shook my head. “Nope. No more little donuts.”