Authors: Stella White
“That’s alright; you two have a great night. I’m going to sleep, goodnight.” I muttered.
“Cassidy, wait!” John said.
I didn’t turn around, I just stormed to my room and shut the door. It wasn’t long before I heard a knock at my door.
“Cassidy, it’s not what you think.” He said through the closed passage.
I stood from the bed and walked to the door, cracking it open.
“I’m pretty sure it’s
exactly
what I think. Goodnight John.” I said, slamming the door in his face.
His shadow lingered under the door for a moment and then returned to his bedroom where I heard his door shut.
I didn’t sleep at all that night and just wished I were home.
8.
I didn’t speak to John at all and he made no attempts to explain anything. I didn’t mind, I wanted to forget this entire weekend. I even regretted what I had done and the rift I probably would make with Maggie were she
to ever find
out what happened. I’m sure she’d be heartbroken.
Maggie joined me in the car with bags under her eyes. She had been up all night from the look of it and worked hard to hide my envious expression.
As our plane flew us home, Maggie slept on the couch I had enjoyed on our previous flight while I sat in the chair and sipped on soda the flight attendant provided.
I thought back to the night we spent together and how much it meant to me and how little it probably meant to him. It pained me to think about how many other women he had probably slept with in that same barn under similar circumstances. Then I forced myself
to not think
about it at all.
I settled back into normal life with ease. But, I didn’t want this life anymore. I wanted something that I wouldn’t get from working at a grocery store. I wanted to use my experience and ability as an architect to make something of myself and the events with John were inspiring me to be a better person.
So I quit.
I hadn’t told Maggie about John and I, and I wanted to keep it that way but fate had other plans.
A couple months after our getaway to Texas and I was starting to get more than a little scared. I hadn’t had to deal with my monthly cycle for a while and a positive pregnancy test told my why. I even took a day off to visit a doctor and confirmed my suspicions.
I couldn’t help but be a little happy thinking about the small life already growing inside me. The result of one of the most amazing nights of passion I had ever felt in my entire life would soon be mine to hold.
Then I thought about John. He deserved to know if he was a father and I didn’t want to keep him from his child.
I started dialing his number but then I stopped, it felt a little too personal to convey with a phone. Then I started writing an email which also felt a little too distant and impersonal.
The only thing that made sense to me was a letter. I pulled out paper and ink and began to draft my letter.
I wrote all the things I wanted to say over the last two months, every thought that came
into my head
I wrote down. Everything came out as a jumbled mess as I wrote and wrote and wrote.
Twenty-nine pages later I stopped. I couldn’t send him a book.
I tried over and this time kept it simple.
‘Dear John,
I never felt anything for anyone like I did for you. Regardless of whether you feel the same, I wanted you to know. When I returned to my favorite spot by the ocean, I looked out into the magnificent blue water and cried. I felt like I had finally found some measure of solace in the world after spending that weekend with you.
I’m pregnant, and I’m going to keep it. I won’t ask for any money as I’m not interested in that at all. I’m sure one day your future child will wonder who their father is and I’ll tell them it was a wonderful man but I’ll leave your name out of it if that’s what you want.
I have become the person in control of my own future, not worrying about the day to day, just living my own passion because that’s the person I want to be. Your way of seeing the world helped me realize who I can be.
Thank you for the moments.
Love,
Cassidy.’
“What’s that?” I heard Maggie say from behind.
I folded the note and tucked it into an envelope trying to keep it from Maggie’s prying eyes.
“Nothing really,” I replied, “just a thank you note to a friend.”
Maggie plopped down in the chair nearby.
“He loves you, you know.” She said out of the blue.
“Who?” I asked.
“You know, I don’t need to say. I wanted to tell you for a while but you seemed so adamant about changing things that it never felt like the right time to say anything.” She said.
“But, how can you be so sure. Didn’t you sleep with him the last night we were there?” I asked.
Maggie let out a laugh and slapped my shoulder.
“No,” she said, “I didn’t get the chance because he was so hung up on you.”
I gasped and tried to stop the tear running down my cheek.
“He told me about it when we went on the ride the second day we were there. He told me about how much he loved your smile and the way your ‘lit up the room when you entered’” she said while air quoting the last bit.
I wiped the tear off my cheek.
“He’s a good guy, Cass. I’m just sad I didn’t get to him first.” She said.
“There’s more to it.” I added.
I couldn’t mouth the words so I just handed her the letter. As she continued reading her eyes lit up. Instead of looking depressed she started looking happy.
“You’re having his baby! That’s amazing! You gotta call him right now, he needs to know right away, don’t write some archaic note and hope he happens to read it.”
She plucked my phone off the table and searched through my contacts before settling on his number. The phone started ringing and she shoved it in my face.
I took it and held it to my ear. I could hear a ringing elsewhere in the apartment. Both of us started looking around only to realize it was coming from the front door. Maggie stomped to the front door and practically ripped the door off its hinges opening it.
John stood outside, his phone in hand nearly ready to answer. I dropped mine to the ground and walked toward him.
I gave him a giant hug and a kiss, as well as a well-placed punch to the stomach that made him reel back a bit.
“That’s for being creepy and standing outside my front door.” I said.
He laughed.
“If that’s all I’m gettin’ then I’m getting’ off light.” He replied.
I pulled back for a moment realizing that he didn’t know yet. I sheepishly looked toward the ground.
“John, I only just found out for myself, but I’m pregnant.” I said.
John lifted my chin so our eyes met and I could see tears starting to form in the corners. He stared into my eyes with an exuberant look and gave me a deep kiss.
“Cassidy, I’ll make that baby proud to call me daddy.” He said.
And he absolutely did.
*****
THE END
''I'm afraid if you want to further your career, it's that or nothing,'' Josie said. She wasn't even looking at Cara, she was reading her emails.
''But I really can't. The memory is still too painful to.....''
''Cara. I've had enough of your whining now. You either do it or pack your bags.''
Cara hung her head and left the office. It was her third week as a junior reporter at Revolver Rock Magazine. She liked it, she felt she was at the beginning of a great career in music journalism, but Josie was turning out to be a real bitch. It wasn't as if she was much older than Cara. But Josie hadn't taken as long as Cara to decide what
she
wanted to do and had made the position of editor her own in double quick time. Whether it was because she was a good journalist or the fact that she was sleeping with Nick Best, the gorgeous media tycoon that owned the magazine, Cara didn't know. She suspected it was the latter.
Cara had graduated in journalism a year ago. She'd spent a few months afterward bumming around on the beaches of California trying to mend her broken heart. When she'd heard that Josie, who'd graduated at the same time as she, already made
Editor
, Cara decided to get serious and start working.
Cara was more beautiful than Josie, and Josie knew it. Maybe that's why she
was being
such a bitch. She was scared Nick would dump her for the better-looking woman. But Cara wasn't interested in Nick or any man for that matter. She just wanted to knuckle down and develop her career.
''Why's life so damn
difficult
?'' Cara asked.
Ted looked up from his desk. ''Dunno, it just is.'' Ted fancied Cara, big time. Nick had hired him around the same time as Cara, his second junior journalist hiring of the year. Ted wasn't the best-looking guy in the world, but he could write.
He
was tall and thin with a big nose and sunken eyes.
He
was more geek than hunk but Cara like him. He was generous and had a wickedly dry sense of humor. Ted for his part loved Cara. When he got back to his shared apartment in the
evening,
he would complain to his peers, that he wasn't able to concentrate at work. One day it was her beautiful legs, rubbing against each other that distracted him, the next day it would be her breasts peeking out over a low cut top.
''She's making me do it, I can't believe it,'' Cara said.
''It's cruel
of
her. But think of it this way, it's
a massive
chance for you to further your career. Of course, she could send me instead. I think she's just doing it to spite you,'' Ted mumbled as he fiddled with a digital camera.
''I don't know why she would want to spite me. I've done nothing wrong.''
''Ah. You haven't done anything wrong. But Nick can't keep his eyes off
you,
and she wants you gone.''
''Really?'' That hadn't occurred to Cara. ''How perceptive of you Ted.'' Cara got up from her desk and kissed him on the cheek. A massive grin appeared on his face as he inhaled her scent.
*****
The University of South California - Arthur Morris School of Journalism had looked very intimidating to Cara when she'd first arrived there as a fresh eighteen-year-old.
Her mother had
cried,
and her father had had a tear in his eyes when they'd dropped her off at Trojan Hall, one of four freshman halls of residence on the campus. Her sister, just seven had given her a knitted bear as a lucky charm. Cara didn't sleep much on her first night. There were echoes as people came and went in the corridor outside her room, and she was sure she heard a couple having sex in the room next to hers.
Cara was there to study
seriously,
and she doubted anyone would catch her coming back to halls in the middle of the night or
entertaining
men in her room. That was what she thought before she'd met Giles, otherwise known as Shifty.
''Hi, what's your name?''
''Cara.''
''You're hot, Cara.''
He'd made her blush. She'd never thought of herself as hot, although lots of boys at school had asked her on a date. She'd only ever kissed one guy, a guy from her village called Henk. She'd enjoyed the kiss, but not his hand up her skirt.
''What's your name?''
''Giles. But I hate Giles. They call me Shifty.''
''Why?'' Cara asked thinking he must have done something dishonest in the past.
''Because when I play the guitar my hands shift up and down the keyboard so fast you can't see them move.''
''Really? And are you any good at the guitar?''
''I'm okay I suppose.''
Cara had always wanted to play guitar, but her parents had made her play the violin. Her father had told her it was more becoming
of a
young lady, and far better to be classically trained than stand on stage making an almighty din. She'd faithfully gone to lessons once a week and scraped away in her bedroom
to
please him, but she'd never taken to it. It ended in tears one day when Cara, a hormonal teenager at the time, had taken a pair of scissors and cut through the strings.
Cara hadn't known what to think of Shifty in the beginning. He wasn't like any man she'd ever met. All the guys in her year at high school had been nice guys, well dressed with well-cut hair and pressed shirts. Shifty wore ripped
jeans,
T-shirts covered in expletives and sneakers that Cara wanted to take off him and throw in the trash. His blonde hair was shoulder
length,
and although clean, it was beginning to form into dreadlocks.
But he had something she liked. She saw through the image he was trying to create. She saw a sensitive man, a man who
liked
culture, a shy man hiding behind a facade.
''So what are you studying Shifty?'' Cara asked. They were sitting in one of the canteens at USC. He'd seen her sitting alone reading a book and decided to sit next to her.
''Oh, I'm not.''
''Not what?'' she asked.
''I'm not studying anything.''
''So what brings you here if you're not a student?''
''Cheap meals.''
''But you can only eat here if you're a student.''
''Who the hell asks? They're happy to take my money.''
At the time, it seemed daring to Cara. She'd never done anything remotely incorrect. She knew it wasn't the crime of the century but still, he was breaking the rules.
''You look like
a proper
student. They'd never refuse you,'’ he said.
''What do you mean?''
''You look prim and proper. You're well dressed. Skirt, blouse, ribbon in your hair.''
''Is there anything wrong with that?
''Er...no....suppose not.''
''Well, it's better than looking like an undercover cop from the vice squad.''
He looked at her. Her beauty took his breath away. She was classically beautiful, more Audrey Hepburn than Cameron Diaz. She was the kind of girl he knew his mom would like. His mom and dad were professional people, she a surgeon, he a lawyer, and they both despaired of Shifty or Giles as they called him. They often wondered what they had done wrong in his upbringing. His mother sometimes cried when she thought what he could be. She'd told him until she was blue in the face, that he could do better. She'd told him thousands of times how intelligent he was
in an effort to
encourage him to better himself. But Shifty wanted to play
music,
and that's what he was going to do. Even a serious fight with his father hadn't changed his mind. His father had become so frustrated with him, that he'd taken him into the yard and challenged him to a boxing match. He hadn't realized how strong Shifty had become until Shifty landed a punch on his nose, splitting it in two.
''I don't look anything like the vice squad,'' he complained. ''I look like me.''
''Do you do drugs Shifty?'' she asked abruptly.
''No. What makes you say that?''
''Dunno.'' She did know. She fancied
him,
and if he was
going to
ask her out, she wanted to know beforehand what he was.
''Well if you think I look like a junkie all I can say is, see you later.'' He got up and sat a few tables away.
Cara was surprised to find how disappointed she was when he went. She'd made a deal with herself not to get involved with anyone at college, but she would have been fully prepared to break that deal if he'd asked her on a date. He was tall and
handsome,
and his green eyes had spoken to her. He'd brought life to the
table;
now she was alone again. She stood up and went to his table where she sat down.
''What are you doing?'' he asked.
''You went off in a sulk before our conversation had finished.''
''As far as I was concerned it was finished.'
''Well as far as I was concerned it wasn't.''
''You insulted me.''
''Have you got such a thin skin?''
''No.''
It was going nowhere, Cara thought. ''Tell me about your music Shifty.''
His face suddenly lit up. ''Do you like music?''
''Yes. I used to play violin.''
Shifty pulled a face. ''I write my
own
stuff.''
''What kind of
stuff
?'' Cara hated the word
stuff
. It was a lazy word used when people couldn't be bothered to speak
properly
.
''Rock, ballads mostly. Love, pain, death, betrayal, that sort of thing.''
Cara leaned
on
the table with her elbows and set about reappraising him. She added driven to the list. ''Will you play for me sometime?'' she asked. What are you doing Cara, she asked herself? No guys until after college remember?
''Are you sure you'd like that?''
That was the opportunity for Cara to change her mind, get back on track, but she didn't take it. ''I'm sure I would.''
*****
Cara had made an effort to look the part, but she didn't possess the kind of clothes Shifty wore. She managed a pair of jeans, a red blouse and a pair of sneakers. She also let her hair down for the occasion.
''Did you find it okay?'' he asked.
''It was a bit tricky, to be honest. The cab driver didn't know where it was, neither did the controller.''
Shifty was sitting on
a disused
loading dock in a broken down industrial estate. Cara had never been
to
such a rough place. Even the cab driver had asked her if she was sure she wanted to get out there.
''Come inside,'' he said.
Cara followed him into the disused building. It had been some
kind of
warehouse in a former life. Now there was a stage made of wood against the back wall and a few seats littered around the place.
''Sorry, it's a bit basic, but I can't afford anywhere else. I even have to pinch the electric from the next building,'' he said. He pointed to a cable that came from behind the stage, ran up the wall and through a window.
''No, it's fine. I'm looking forward to hearing you play.'' She cringed as her imagination took over. He was standing on the stage, guitar in hand, making
the most awful
noise she'd ever heard. That was her worst fear. She would feel so sorry for him if he was no good. He would be living a
lie,
and she didn't think she could take it if that were the case. She already cared for him too much to think he was wasting his life pursuing a dream that had
absolutely
no chance of ever
being fulfilled
.
''Sit here,'' he said pulling
a grubby
looking chair toward the stage. ''Right, now give me a few minutes, I need to tune up.''
Cara sat patiently and watched a few pigeons nesting in the rafters high above them. He sat on the edge of the stage and
tuned
an electric guitar. When he was ready, he stood up and bowed to her.
''Lady, no gentlemen, welcome to this mini concert. The first song
is called
, ''Why I Fell For You.'' Cara applauded and sat on the edge of her seat, fingers crossed he wasn't' going to make a real fool of himself.
When he started to play and sing, Cara almost fell from her chair. His voice had such power and despite being ignorant of guitar playing ability, she knew
he
was
very good
indeed. She looked at his face and noticed how completely engrossed in the song he was. The lyrics were beautiful, about a woman he'd fallen in love with but who'd jilted him for a man with more money. She felt a lump in her throat. She felt like one of the judges on a talent contest, one who had just found the talent of the century.