Coming Home

“So how are you with Derrick?” Vincent asked, opening the door to a closed office and urging Cassadee to sit down. She eyed him warily.

“Fine, thank you,” she murmured, standing while he sat opposite her.

“Sit, sit.”

“What is it you want, Vincent?” Cassadee snapped, breaking out of her façade the minute the door closed. He gave her a startled look.

“Don’t lie to me. I read my email. You’ve been sending me hate mail ever since the first article,” she snapped. Vincent eyed her with acute interest before leaning back against the chair, a slow smile spreading grotesquely across his face.

“I just wanted to thank you, Miss Adams,” he replied, looking up at her.

“Seriously? Cut the crap or I’m leaving,” she threatened, stepping towards the door.

“So impatient, just like Derrick,” he mused again, watching her with interest. When Cassadee didn’t respond, he continued.

“I’d like to thank you for bringing our ratings up,” he said again. Cassadee just looked at him. When she didn’t reply yet again, Vincent clicked his tongue and continued.

“And to think I felt bad when I read your article which was so undeservingly well-received by your public. But you’ve really helped the NDP.”

“What are you talking about?” Cassadee asked, narrowing her eyes.

“You played your part as Derrick’s little reporter girlfriend perfectly,” he said again. Cassadee felt a sick twist in her gut, feeling her blood churn cold.

“We weren’t acting,” she choked out desperately. He was lying, there was no way Derrick could have lied to Cassadee like this. Cassadee watched as Vincent narrowed his eyes.

“Are you sure?” There was silence as Cassadee tried to lean back, but found no support. She knew she shouldn’t believe him, but there was a very strange and unfeeling blossoming of hurt in her chest.

“You’re lying,” she finally concluded, recomposing herself. Vincent pursed his lip, before pressing a button on his phone.

“Vincent? Is something wrong?” Came a low, gravelly voice, blearing from the speakers of the phone.

“Sorry Mr. Fieldings, there seems to be a predicament in my office, it requires your immediate attention,” Vincent said, a cool and relaxed smile masking his serious tone. Cassadee felt queasy, and wanted more than anything to bolt out of the room.

In a few moments, she saw Sampson, Derrick’s father peer into the room. Under the pretence of the unknown, Vincent stood up respectfully, nodding in the direction of Sampson.

“It seems like Miss Adams has paid us a surprise visit,” Vincent smiled sincerely, and Cassadee felt like throwing up as Sampson turned his concerned eye to her.

“Cassadee! What a surprise! Is everything alright? You look pale,” he said.

“I- I- I’m fine,” she stammered.

“Oh rubbish. You seem far from being fine. Mr Fieldings, I was just thanking her for her help in raising our ratings,” Vincent sneered. In an instant, Sampson snapped his head to Vincent’s direction, an action so smooth and powerful that it scared Cassadee.

“You what?” Sampson said, his voice puncturing holes into Vincent’s pompous demeanour.

“Well I was just-“

“ENOUGH Vincent. I have told you time and time again, to stay out of Derrick’s personal life,” Sampson raised his voice, the office falling into complete silence.

“Personal? Your son’s life is hardly personal, especially concerning his love life!” Vincent argued, his voice cracking painfully, making Cassadee cringe. But his ugly voice was completely overwhelmed by another rush of nausea that terrified Cassadee.

“You are dismissed.”

“But Sir!”

“Get out Vincent, I will deal with you later,” commanded Sampson. Cassadee saw a fatherly protection in Sampson which she had never seen before. She was reminded Derrick was the only son he had left, Caleb had completely deviated from his father’s footsteps and Derrick was under his immediate care.

Vincent scowled and left the room, but not before shooting Cassadee a look so toxic that she could have thrown up on him.

“I’m sorry Cassadee, now what was it he told you?” Sampson asked gently, noticing the shaken girl’s tiny demeanour.

“Is it true?” She squeaked.

“About our ratings, why yes. I was very pleased to see that the public had such interest in Derrick, never knew he had it in him. Wise boy he is,” Sampson said again. He was stalling, Cassadee felt a wave of impatience rise up over her.

“No, Mr Fieldings. You know what I’m talking about. Was I part of this, plan?” She asked. There were so many words she could have used other than ‘plan’, there was ‘scheme’, ‘play’, ‘fraud’, ‘show’. The list was endless, but she didn’t want to cause a mess.

“Now Cassadee, I think you should talk to Derrick about this, I would hate to intrude-“

“We’re dealing with… personal issues. Please tell me Mr Fieldings, please,” she begged. She didn’t know why she was doing this. But she knew the truth would burn even worse than their fight, but it was something addictive about honesty that called out to her inner journalist.

“Well… Only if it helps both of you through this predicament.”

Cassadee waited for his words, patiently, trying not to throw up or do anything ghastly.

“Derrick… did agree to further his relationship with you to swing our popularity ratings, but you must understand that his work is very important to him, and to all of us. I do hope you’ll understand.”

Cassadee felt a physical noise cancellation that she had experienced many times before, the way her brain would empty itself when she was in pain, or when she had learnt something ground breaking. She wouldn’t have minded if he had told her, but it hurt most because she felt cheated, and lied to. He had lied to her, so explicitly that it hurt. He had said that their relationship would never cross working lines, and that it would remain anything but. The realisation dawned on Cassadee that she had been used again.

In all her past experiences, none of them hurt this much. Why would you try so hard to fix something, then break it down all over again? Maybe she wasn’t the one that changed, maybe it was him. He had his priorities checked, and she wasn’t on his list.

“Cassadee? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thank you Mr. Fieldings,” Cassadee mumbled numbly, before excusing herself and leaving, her cheeks burning, her eyes painfully trying to suppress the tears that were coming.

To lie to someone was bad enough. But to pretend to love someone was even worse, especially when Cassadee though that she was ready to forgive him.

~

Derrick closed his car door, locking it before rushing up to check on his work. He had just visited Crystal, and had taken her out for lunch. She had told him to apologise to Cassadee, because she didn’t understand why Derrick could forgive a ‘crazy nympho murderer and take her out for lunch’ and not forgive his girlfriend for an article she had written.

Derrick had to give it to Crystal, she made a lot of sense. He realised that it might have been the futility of chasing his career. It had to be someone’s fault that it wasn’t working, and Cassadee seemed to be the easiest to blame. He felt like a coward, hiding behind her article, and he needed to apologise.

As he neared his building, he saw the lift open and saw Cassadee walk out, in her usual working clothes. As the glass sliding doors opened to the cold wind, he saw how her hair danced wildly to the wind.

Then he noticed the tears.

“Cass! Hey, what’s wrong?” He asked, running to her- all traces of anger gone. He tried to reach out to her, but was met with such violent rejection when she shoved him a good distance away from her.

“You lied to me!” She yelled, her voice hitting his face like a ton of bricks, the wind stinging his face painfully. She was so angry that she barely forgot to wipe the tears off her face.

“You lied to me!” She said again, her voice cracking painfully, like it did when she was upset. Derrick looked at her, knowing that she knew. Somehow, she had known. It was the last thing he wanted- for her to know the truth out of someone else’s mouth.

“You chewed me up and spit me out last week. But you’re just so full of shit,” she said again. He watched her helplessly, watching their relationship get smashed to smithereens from her truckload of anger and his screwing up.

“Which part of this reflects your respect for working ethics? About being honest? About loving me?” She screamed, losing breath when she asked him the last question, her voice coming out in a short wheeze.

“Fuck you and your pretentious bullshit! I was ready to open up to you Derrick, I was ready,” she sobbed, her nose red from the cold and the snot that was spilling out.

“I should have never come back. I can’t do this anymore,” she wept, her emotions like a full tank, crushing her, crashing against her like a tidal wave. She was drowning.

“Cassadee, please,” Derrick finally spoke up, his voice sounding so repulsive to his own ear that he couldn’t take it. He watched as the wind blew whatever remnants of hope they had left far, far away.

“No. Leave me alone. Get out of my life. I quit. I quit dealing with politics okay? If it makes you happy. I’ll write about fashion, I’ll write about food. This isn’t a game I want to play anymore,” she said, her heart in shambles.

“I just wanted to be strong, for once.”

“You are strong.”

“No, you shut up.”

“Don’t text me, don’t call me, don’t get Caleb or Angela or Jared to talk to me for you. Tell the world we broke up, you don’t need me. They don’t need me.”

Derrick wanted to shake her, he needed her. He needed her more than anything. Work seemed so pointless now if he didn’t have anyone to guide him, to listen to him. He was selfish, that was what he had left define this relationship, and now it was coming apart.

“I’m done Derrick, I quit.”

Then she turned around, and for once, Derrick was speechless. He had ruined it, this was all his fault. And he couldn’t fix it.