Cassie

 

Nikolai took us to my favorite pizza joint, and even though people grimaced at my face—which still hurt and was probably looking worse by the minute—I couldn’t be bothered by them.

We were having a good time and Nikolai was being nice, if I dare say it. He reminded me more of the Nikolai from the rehearsal dinner. The one that was funny and charming and convinced me to go back to his room. In the months since then, I’d wondered if my drunk brain had imagined that Nikolai.

We stuffed our bellies with pizza and breadsticks until none of us could stomach another bite.

Well, almost none of us.

“Can we get ice cream before we take Cassie home? Pleeease?” Eli tugged on his dad’s arm as we walked out to the truck.

“I thought you were full. You said your tummy was going to explode if you ate anymore pizza.”

“Yeah, my first tummy, but I have two tummies just like Cassie, and my second tummy is just for ice cream. It’s empty, see.” He rubbed one side of his belly and made a sad pouty face. Nikolai shot me a dirty look while I bit back a giggle. I mouthed, “Sorry,” even though I wasn’t really.

“Fine. We’ll stop for ice cream, but when we get home you better take your bath and get ready for bed with zero complaints.”

Eli jerked his head up and down, “I will, I will, I will. I promise, Dad. I’ll go to bed soooo good.”

We stopped for ice cream, and Eli was the only one who ordered, but that didn’t stop Nikolai or I from stealing his spoon for the occasional bite. His dad was forced to finish it off when Eli threw in the spoon and rubbed his belly, admitting defeat. “Now, even my ice cream belly is full.”

They drove me home and I found that I was almost as disappointed as Eli that the night was over. What had started out a terrible day, had ended up being . . . not completely terrible.

I still wore a slight smile as I climbed out of the truck and closed the door behind me. Of course, I forgot about what the rest of my face looked like as I headed inside.

“Goodness, Cassie, what happened to you?” Grandmama shrilled the moment she saw me. She bustled over and immediately started fussing, near hysterical when I told her about the accident. She was crying and kissing my face—the good side—and thanking Jesus that I was alright. Then she scolded me for not calling her, and insisted I call my parents right then.

They were slightly calmer than Grandmama. I started out talking to my mother and she relayed everything I was saying to my father, until eventually he got tired of asking questions through my mother, and took the phone from her so he could get the details directly from me. Once both my parents were reassured that I was fine, I promised to call them as soon as I heard from the mechanic. Dad thought it weird, just like Nikolai, that my car seemed to have sprung a major leak out of nowhere.

As I was hanging up the phone, a camera flash went off in my face. I blinked, caught off guard.

“Grandmama, what are you doing?”

She was holding up her phone, the one she barely knew how to operate. She was snapping picture after picture of my face.

“I want to send these to your mother.”

“Grandmama, stop.” I held up my hand and she relented.

“Does it hurt too bad? Do you want me to make you some tea?”

Grandmama and her tea. Got arthritis? She had a tea for that. Stomach ache? Tea for that. Migraine? Tea for that. Inflammation? Tea for that. Insomnia? Tea for that too. Whatever ailed you, Grandmama could fix it with a cup of tea.

“Sure, Grandmama,” I let out a weary breath. “A cup of tea would be great.”

“Okay, I have this green tea blend with ginger and turmeric and a bit of this and that, it’ll fix you right up and make you feel better.”

I was sure it would, because Grandmama’s teas usually worked just how she said they would. I was also sure that it wouldn’t taste very good. Medicinal teas rarely did. “Extra honey please,” I requested.

“I know just how you like it. Go have a seat in the living room and I’ll bring it to you in there.”

Grandmama continued to fuss over me until I finally convinced her it was okay to go to bed. After that, I dumped my third cup of tea—the first one was good, the second tolerable, but by the third cup she forced on me, I couldn’t stand it—and headed upstairs to my room.

I changed and readied for bed, and then crawled beneath the covers, letting out a deep sigh when I sank into the mattress. I was so exhausted I wanted to cry tears of joy that I was finally in my bed.

I lay there, going over the day in my head, dreading having to figure out the rental car situation with the insurance company, and the entire headache of dealing with them. Shit, I didn’t even know how I was getting to work tomorrow.

Before I could stress it any further, Nora called. She’d gotten home and found out from Spencer about my accident.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“If you saw my face you might not think so, but I promise, aside from being a little sore, I’m okay.”

“Take tomorrow off and rest, and let me know if you need anything.”

I wanted to argue and say I could still come in, but truthfully, I was grateful. After hanging up with her, I stared at the little message icon on my phone. After tonight, I felt a little bolder. Bold enough to open it and start a new text to Nikolai.

If I ask you a question, will you be honest with me?

After pressing send, I stared at the screen until it blacked out. I’d almost given up on a reply when it finally vibrated.

Go to bed Cassie.

I just want to know what your problem with me is. Why do you hate me?

Several minutes passed and I could see that he’d read the message, but he didn’t reply.

Why couldn’t he just answer me? Why did he have to be so damn aggravating? Maybe, if he told me what his real issue was, I could accept it. Or, I don’t know, fix it.

Further emboldened, and slightly annoyed at this point, I pressed the little call button beside his name and let it ring.

“I said, go to bed, Cassie,” he answered gruffly.

“I just want to know. Then I will.”

I heard his sigh through the phone. “I don’t hate you.”

“But you don’t like me.” It wasn’t a question and I hoped he wouldn’t lie to me and try to deny it.

“You don’t like me either,” he pointed out.

“But you didn’t like me first,” I shot back and then laid my head against the pillow. “You said you didn’t judge me because of him, but if not, I don’t understand what I’ve done.”

“Are we really having this conversation at ten o’clock at night? I have to be up in a few hours.”

“Answer me and we can both go to bed.”

He heaved an irritated breath into the phone. “You don’t think it has anything to do with you spitting in my coffee, serving me cold coffee, putting grounds in my coffee, or calling me every manner of name you could think of, some I’d never even heard before.”

I huffed, “But I did all that after you were a jerk. You couldn’t stand me from the second you got off, or maybe before then. I don’t know, but if you despised me from the beginning, I don’t even understand why you slept with me. You were nice at the rehearsal dinner.”

“Or maybe you were drunk and just thought I was being nice.”

“I wasn’t that drunk.” I’d been buzzed at best. “So why were you nice then, and then such an asshole after?”

 “Why do you think I was nice, Cassie? I wanted to get laid.”

Ouch. “So that’s it? You didn’t care who it was, even if it was someone you couldn’t stand?”

Silence.

“Fine, but you still haven’t told me why you didn’t like me from the beginning. I didn’t even know you then?”

“Cassie, I’m sorry I was a dick. Can we just leave it at that?”

“For fuck’s sake, just tell me what the hell is wrong with me,” I half shouted at him, sitting up again.

“There’s nothing wrong with you. That night just should have never happened. It was a mistake and I knew it was before we ever went back to my room. You’re too close. You weren’t someone I could hook up with and then never have to see again. There were consequences. Like you spitting in my coffee, or putting grounds in it.”

“God, you’re an ass. I wasn’t expecting us to start dating. I knew it was one-time deal. If you had just been nice about it, I never would’ve spit in your coffee. We could have been grown-ups about the whole damn thing.”

“I was nice about it. I gave you several orgasms and then sent you on your way.”

“But the way you did it wasn’t nice!” I growled.

“You’re saying you didn’t enjoy the orgasms?” his voice was laced with humor.

“That’s not what I’m saying. They were very nice. But feeling hadn’t even returned to my legs before you were all ‘you can go now’.” I did my best impression of his low, growly, indifferent voice.

“Thank you.”

“Why the hell are you thanking me?”

“You said I fucked you so good you couldn’t feel your legs. That’s a compliment. I’m thanking you. Hell, pet, even when I’m nice, you’re full of attitude.”

I let out an aggravated groan. “You’re missing the point entirely, but of course that would be the only thing you take away from that, because your ego is too big for an actual brain to fit in your head.”

“Then what’s the point of all this, pet?” He was humoring me.

“The way you dismissed me, and the way you’ve looked at me and talked to me ever since makes me feel shitty. And I don’t know what I did to deserve it. That’s why I’ll keep spitting in your coffee and pouring coffee grounds in it.”

“How do I fucking look at you Cassie?” All humor was gone. There was nothing but irritation in his voice.

“Like you’re disgusted with yourself for ever touching me,” I said in an almost whisper, because it fucking sucked to say it out loud.

It grew quiet again. I could hear him breathing, but that was it.

“Just forget it,” I mumbled. “Go to bed.”

“Cassie,” he stopped me from hanging up. “You don’t disgust me. You never did. You weren’t a convenience fuck that night. I didn’t want just any girl, I wanted you, even though I knew better. I was drunk enough not to listen to myself. I know I was an asshole afterward. I was pissed at myself for hooking up with you. And yeah, maybe I had already made up my mind not to like you, because I was judging you based on what I thought I knew about you. I thought . . . you were just too young, too immature. You seemed irresponsible and full of yourself, and like you didn’t take anything seriously. You seemed shallow and wild and reckless, and if I’m being completely honest, I might have even thought if you’d been more careful, been more mature, and used better judgement you might not have ended up with–”

“Please don’t say his name,” I whispered.

He said nothing again and I just sat there on the edge of my bed, head hung, feeling about the smallest I’d ever felt. “Thank you for finally being honest with me.”

“But you’re not who I thought you were, Cassie.”

I lifted my head a little. “What do you mean?”

“I’m saying I was wrong. I had you pegged before we even met and that was unfair, because you’re not those things. Maybe some of them a little, because you are young, but being young isn’t a crime, and neither is falling in love with the wrong guy.”

“If I’m not who you thought I was, then who am I?” I didn’t know if I was asking because I just wanted to hear what he thought about me now, or if I was looking for someone to tell me who I was, because I desperately wanted to know.

“I haven’t figured that out yet,” he said quietly.

“Me neither.”

Neither one of us said anything, and then I said, “Goodnight, Nikolai.”

“Goodnight, Cassie.”

I stared at the screen of my phone until he ended the call and it blacked out, plunging my room into total dark. I set it on the night stand and curled onto my side, hugging my body pillow to my chest tightly, like a child clinging to their favorite stuffed animal in the dark for comfort and to keep the nightmares away once they closed their eyes. I still had nightmares sometimes. About him. It wasn’t always the same dream, but it always ended with me waking in a cold sweat and tears running down my cheeks.

Tonight, I was afraid to close my eyes and chance seeing him in my sleep. Today was the first day in a long time that I’d talked about him with someone. I’d never admitted to loving he-who-will-not-be-named to anyone before today.

As feared, my dreams were anything but peaceful and my sleep hardly restful. I tossed and turned all night, waking several times, unable to recall exactly what I had been dreaming about moments before, but left with fuzzy images in my mind of a dark room and faces and this unsettled feeling in my gut. The chime of my alarm the next morning dragged me from the fitful sleep, my dreams still vague and fractured pictures. They slipped further and further away from me the harder I tried to bring them into focus. I felt anxious and unable to shake it. I snoozed my alarm and lay there for several minutes, eyes shut, focusing on breathing in and out, shutting out all the noise in my head.

When the alarm on my phone went off the second time, I groaned but dragged myself up. If anything, I felt more tired than I had before I’d gone to sleep. It was only as I glanced at my phone and thought back to my conversation with Nikolai last night, that I remembered I’d also spoken to Nora. I didn’t have to go to work this morning. Which meant I didn’t have to be up. I had the next three days to myself because Friday and Saturday were my scheduled days off this week.

I flopped back down on the bed and almost as soon as my head smacked the pillow, I was out again. Grandmama, and not my phone, woke me up the second time.

“Get up, you can’t sleep all day,” her voice yanked me out of sleep. When I pried my eyes open, she was standing in my doorway.

I groaned something unintelligible even to my own ears.

“Don’t give me that. If you don’t get up, we’ll be late for the spa appointment I made us.”

I lifted my head up off the pillow. “Huh?”

“I made us an appointment at the spa. Full treatment. But if you’d rather stay in bed . . .”

“No, no. I’ll get up.” I groaned again as I did so. My body was stiff and a little achy. Then something else occurred to me. “How are we going to get there, Grandmama? My car is a little bit toast at the moment,” I reminded her like she might have forgotten.

“I know. Which is why I called Ha-na and Sun-mi Park. They’re going to join us, so get ready. They’ll be here in an hour.” I had to silence another groan as Grandmama retreated from my room, pulling the door closed. I could think of a thousand ways to spend my day that would be preferable to an afternoon with the elder Mrs. Park. A visit to the gynecologist. A root canal. Paying bills. Running a full marathon. Just to list off a few. Mrs. Park was about as much fun as a potato. A wrinkly, mean, old potato. She was even more traditional than Grandmama and had only been in the US since her family moved her out here five years ago. Her daughter, Ha-na, wasn’t bad. She was a quiet woman, but I could already hear her mother’s voice clucking and tsking in disapproval at the state of my life.

“Why you no married yet, Cassandra?”

“Why you no have good job yet? I thought that’s why you went to college?”

“My granddaughter Mi-na no go to college. She married and have babies already. They just bought house.”

“My Mi-na would never get mixed up in trouble with boys like you.”

“Your poor Grandmama. I say extra prayer for you at church.”

Honestly, it was a wonder Grandmama could even stand her.

When I joined her downstairs in the kitchen, I found several loaves of my favorite Asian sweet bread, fresh from the oven. I took it as her apology for having to endure Mrs. Park.