In a fragment of a second, Cleo became a host of contradictions. As her chest tightened with a harsh burden, it became the hollowest it had been in many years. Her blood ran icy, and it boiled. She wanted to scream, laugh, cry. She felt everything magnified, but she was entirely numb. A single light illuminated the kitchen, coaxing her toward it as she had entered the seemingly vacant apartment. It was a stagnant silence that filled her senses, and feeling the need to match it, she’d padded lightly. Should she announce herself again? She had no wish to startle the apartment’s inhabitants, so perhaps a gentle proclamation would have been appropriate. As she opened her mouth to make the utterance, she noticed the trail of discarded clothing leading down the hall, in the direction of Mason’s bedroom. Passage of time diminished to a painstaking drag in the following moments, but the emotions she felt and didn’t feel hit her as if they were shot from a gun.
The sources of her turmoil were numerous, and to pick one that carved the deepest was a substantial undertaking. Essentially walking on on Mason with a woman bit into her throat. The fact that the woman was undoubtedly his ex, a woman with which Cleo shared no parallels, a woman that had caused Mason’s life to be plagued with misfortune, burned through her skin and muscle and into her bones. The timing was a slap in the face. But one source took out a knife and stabbed Cleo in the heart. Not long ago, she had been disconcerted by how quickly this place became a shelter for her. How quickly the man who lived here became her refuge, her sanctuary. That shelter was crumbling before her. She was an intruder in the place she’d always felt most welcome. That source of turmoil took the wind from her lungs and left her weak. As time trudged through molasses, mere instances had passed since her discovery.
Get out. Get out now. Time returned to its normal pace, then up a few notches. Cleo turned on her heel to make a brisk exit with some shred of her dignity left intact only to find herself plummeting towards the ground, the still open dishwasher clearly exacting its own plans for the evening. In a last ditch effort to save herself the mortification, a hand shot out to catch herself on the counter. Instead, it found a freshly washed plate, which joined her in her rapid descent. Gasping as what little breath she had left was knocked, forced from her lungs, Cleo’s ears rang with the shrill sound of the plate shattering beside her. She stood, backing away from the physical mess she made as the intangible mess only began, a bewildered expression finding her delicate features. A moment of shocked silence was interrupted by the steady drip, drip, drip of blood from a wound she didn’t realize the plate had painted across her hand. That set her into action, grabbing a dish towel from the counter to prevent further pooling on the floor, clutching it with her injured hand as she backed up a few more steps, the circumstances turning her to a cornered wild animal. Her less glamorous iteration of Cinderella’s glass slipper was left behind as a poetic mar as she turned to make a hasty departure, just catching a glimpse of the person she’d come to see. The person she would have no desire to face for quite some time.
The commotion from the kitchen put an instant stop to the activities going on. The first thing that ran through Mason’s head was that Addi had woken up and went for glass of water. He had caught her climbing up on the counter to reach the cabinet with the glasses many times. It was his deepest fear that she would attempt it in the middle of the night and something bad would happen. Mason was released from the bed with a long sigh as he stumbled from the bed, the only one seemingly panicked and worried. “I have told her several times not to do this alone,” he mumbled as he grabbed his sweats and pulled them on. His heart pounding, he left the room and practically raced down the small set of steps that lead to his kitchen/living room. “Addi, you can’t--”, he started staying before coming to an instant halt at the sight before him. Â
A figure shuffled in the darkness, only illuminated by a light over the sink, went through the kitchen, and out into the hallway. It certainly wasn’t Addi and his heart sank when he suspected who it was. “Cleo--”, he shouted after her, but that was the only thing he managed to say due to the culminating events that followed his attempt to stop her. He moved towards the door, past the dishwasher that had been left open, the broken pieces of glass he slowed to tiptoe around, and the small drops of blood he barely even noticed. He made it to his door, not even thinking that he could be seen in the hallway half dressed, just in time to catch the girl pulling open the door to the stairway down the hall and disappearing. He sucked in a breath, preparing to go after her when he heard the small words that always set his heart on fire. “Daddy--”, the small girl spoke, voice quivering which Mason instantly knew there were going to be tears. Mason turned from the door to see his daughter standing near the dishwasher with a tired face and wide eyes. He frowned, knowing that she had probably been scared awake by the commotion. He looked back out into the hallway, hoping some miracle would bring Cleo back. “Hey,” he spoke, feeling his heart splitting between the two girls in his life that have ever mattered to him. It physically hurt to leave the hallway behind, quietly shut the door behind him, and meet his daughter with a protective embrace. “Daddy had an accident, it’s alright.” Fingers brushed the first hint of tears at the corner of her eyes. “Lets get you some water and then send you back to bed,” he said with all the softness he could conjure. She nodded with a small laugh and buried her head in the crook of his neck as she rubbed her sleepy eyes.    Â
It was half an hour before Mason had gotten Addi to bed and clean up the mess left behind by his visitor. His limbs felt heavy, knowing he had let her down in so many ways that could be described in physical words and other ways that could not. Their friendship made complicated by their kiss so many months ago was now further sullied without either having even seen each other. Also shattered was the idea that his apartment was a refuge for her, a place she could always come when she needed company or a place to stay when her own apartment was not an option. He knew that he had corrupted the space they had created together, derailed her trust. Yes, it was his own apartment the he was paying rent for and he could have warned her not to come, but it had also become her place in a small way. Plus, he had not so much as thought about telling her that his ex had moved in for the time being, since it had happened so fast -- in fact, deep down he didn’t want to tell her, because there was no way he’d be able to keep things from her, including the weird feelings his ex had stirred within him. He didn’t want to involve her in his messy past, or in his messy feelings that would screw everything up. Yet, there he was. The answers he wanted had punched him right in the face, Addi’s mom had never been the woman he wanted. But she was the woman he could have at the moment.Â
Mason sighed as he dumped the last pieces of glass out of a dustpan and into the trash. When the trash was closed, he checked his phone. The long message in the form of, “Please call me,” had yet been answered, and he knew it would probably stay that way. “Is everything alright?”, the voice asked from the feminine form wrapped up in his sheets when he returned to his room. He didn’t say anything for a few moments as he moved around the bed, grabbing a blanket and a pillow. “Yeah, Addi broke a plate that was still out while she was trying to climb up on the counter again.” He stopped for a moment as the woman reached out to catch his arm. “Are you really doing this again?”, she asked, rising from the pillows. He frowned at her as he shook her hand off. “Goodnight,” he mumbled as he left the room once more without further dialogue.
