SKIPPING TIME

Chapter 23

                 

                 

Cacee threw an arm over her eyes, desperately trying to drift back into the blissful forgetfulness of sleep, despite the fact that she'd already slept away the whole morning and the better part of the afternoon. The warehouse was quiet, except for Ray's humming as he tried to fix his stove which, two days ago, inexplicably began burning everything he cooked.

Although her father's humming was soothing, Cacee's stomach started to churn with a mixture of nerves and anxiety. She vaguely remembered something was wrong but determinedly shoved it away. Don't think. Go back to sleep. Shhhh. Sleep. Just sleep. She turned on her side, drawing her knees to her chest as her stomach cramped. Jess. That's what's wrong. Jess.

Cacee groaned, flipped to her stomach and shoved her head under the couch pillow. With a frown, she told herself this was ridiculous. So they'd broken up. So what? Everybody went through a bad break-up at some point. Three days was more than enough time to spend wallowing.

Even the longest three days of her life. She shook her head, and made herself sit up and rub the sleep out of her eyes. She needed to pull herself together. At this point she should be listening to girl-power anthems, exercising her way to endorphins, telling herself at least five positive self-affirmations a day and filling the hole in her heart with pints of Ben and Jerry's.

At the thought of ice cream, Cacee's stomach lurched as if it wanted to find the nearest escape route. She clamped her hand over her mouth, ready to bolt to the bathroom if necessary. She could not let Ray see her washing puke out of his rug again. Two times of emptying the contents of her stomach on his living room floor was enough for one week. She took a heaving breath, willing her stomach to stop bouncing around and return to its normal resting spot. Her body began to relax just as the soft strains of a guitar started up.

Cacee tensed. Despite the warmth of the room, she wrapped the couch blanket around her shoulders, trying to stop her shivers. A glance in the mirror would have shown a peaked, pallid face and eyes that gleamed with fever but, these days, she avoided mirrors at all cost.

She sighed as the guitar became a little louder. Of course Jess found a guitar in the back room. Why not? It's not like everything sucked already. By all means, the mournful sounds of Jess's voice should constantly torture her. With a loud sigh, she grabbed the couch pillow and clamped it over her head.

A few seconds later she tossed the pillow on the floor with a low curse more befitting Jess than her. She told herself she hated how often Jess played, but it was a lie. The music drifting from the back room felt like her only connection to him and, even though it drilled a hole right through the middle of her, she seemed to be powerless against the siren-lure of his voice.

The last of her nausea faded as she stood and let the music wash over her. She walked to the bathroom, moving quickly. If she could get in and out of there before Jess stopped playing he might not hear her. She held her breath as the bathroom door creaked open and then shut it quietly behind her. She washed up, combed her hair and brushed her teeth, all the while shooting nervous glances at the door separating the bathroom from the room Jess now stayed in.

But he never stopped playing. She left the bathroom as quietly as she'd come in, her head cocked to the side, spellbound.

The first time she'd ever heard Jess sing, his voice sounded haunted and melancholy. Nowadays it sounded downright dismal. She didn't understand the utter bleakness of his tone or why his words held so much pain. His voice was as beautiful as always. He actually sounded even better to her than before. But the aching emotion that imbued every word he sang made it seem like Jess must be as heartbroken as her. Cacee sniffled, picked up Shane from the bottom of the couch and sat down, hugging him to her chest. Too bad she knew better.