Coming Home

Cassadee and Derrick didn’t see each other for the next week. There was little to say after what happened and neither were enthusiastic about talking about what happened.

Today Derrick finally had some free time to himself after countless meetings over the nation’s politics. Something about including free public transport to bring in the votes, the same agenda, over and over and over again until the only opposing voice left had no choice but to agree.

He walked towards the rehab centre, feet crushing the dried leaves beneath him as he eyed the white building he had seen so many times on the brochures she sent to him. Pushing the door open, he spoke to the lady at the counter who directed him to her room.

Pausing in front of her ward, he stopped. Not sure what to do next. Unlike that night as Cassadee’s place, he was a lot more comfortable, his heart less seized up. Pushing the door open finally, he relented that he needn’t be afraid of her, she was after all, a friend.

“Derrick!” Came her voice, as she physically tackled him to the ground.

It was like being welcomed home by a very friendly pet- even though Derrick would hate to compare Crystal to a dog, or any kind of animal. She was very much human, even though defunct and technically a killer.

He lay on the ground as she lay on top of him, her red hair pulled back into a pony tail, looking down at him. She tested him, poking a finger at his face before smiling- a genuine smile that almost split her face into two.

“You’re real,” she said, before standing up again. Brushing herself off, she yanked Derrick off his feet as he looked at her. This was the real her, not a smudge of make up on- her eyes again wide and clear, lips soft and red.

“You look a lot better,” he smiled, as she led him next to her bed where he sat opposite her.

“Doctor says a few more months till they get me up and running again,” she shrugged, looking painfully small in an oversized shirt and shorts.

“I did technically kill two people,” she shrugged.

“Crystal-“

“No, no. It’s part of my treatment. They keep telling me to be honest with myself, it’s I think part of my prayers. To keep asking God for forgiveness for what I did,” she shrugged again, eyes thoughtful, away from the last time he has seen her- screaming and shaking.

“It’s funny because I think why I’m still here is because I’m not afraid to admit that I’m a psychotic murderer.”

“Was.”

“Right. Enough about me, how about you?”

Derrick started talking to her, completely unaffected by the fact that he was sitting in her room in a rehab centre, filled with other mentally unstable people. As far as he knew, he came to talk to a friend whom he cared for, and they were catching up with each other. He told her everything he had experienced in the past years, trying his best to leave out any intimate details he didn’t want anyone to know about.

“You’ve had quite the year Derrick,” she mused.

“What about you? Still dancing?”

“Sure, I mean they’re trying to get me on my feet again. The first few times I tried I completely broke down, went insane, punched the mirror in the dance studio,” she confessed, showing him a few white lines lining her knuckles.

“You know I don’t usually get visitors, usually just my parents, and my dance instructor-“

“Me included now that I’m back.”

“I would expect nothing less,” she teased. Derrick smiled, happy to see that she seemed a lot happier now, like her heart had been set free.

“You know she came to see me, once,” Crystal suddenly said, lowering her voice, looking at warily at Derrick. Derrick hated the way people looked at him when they mentioned her, it was like they were reminding him that she was her weakness. Strangely enough, he didn’t think she was weak anymore. Not that she ever was, but now she was fully capable of beating up a guy without even trying.

Suddenly before Crystal could continue, a tiny child ran into her room, screaming her name.

“Lily!” replied Crystal as the little girl pranced into her arms. Derrick stared at the both of them half amused, and half still itching to know what Crystal had to say.

“Sorry Derrick, this is Lily,” she pinched the girl’s cheeks, “the best dancer we have here.”

“Is this why you’re dancing again?” He asked, smiling fondly at the child on her lap. Crystal nodded absent-mindedly, cooing to the child.

“That was why she came you know, to get me to dance again. Got me to volunteer down at the Little Feet Academy, I’m teaching them now. They pay me, occasionally.”

Derrick looked at Crystal, nothing bad in her, as if all her treatments and rehab had sucked every single mean cell from her body. He let his heart swell with pride for a moment, relishing in the thought that deep down inside, Cassadee was still the same. Until he realised that she was no longer his to be proud of.

“Alright honey, thanks for coming, I’ll see you on Wednesday!” spoke Crystal, gently pushing the little girl out of the door. Giggling and laughing, the child ran off- leaving behind a shadow of her childlike innocence.

“I never saw her again, but I’d really like to thank her. After all I did to her,” Crystal rasped, her voice choking up. Derrick looked up to her to see that she was struggling to keep her tears in.

“You didn’t tell me when I called.”

“I knew what I did Derrick, I knew why you left. Everyone knows. I figured it was best to tell you in person,” Crystal struggled with speaking, wiping moisture away from her eyes.

He looked at Crystal, pained and torn over what she had told him. It took a lot for a person to reach out to the obsolete and help them. Cassadee had every single right to never talk to Crystal again, but here she was- saving her, or rather, she had saved her. Crystal was better, better than ever in fact.

“Anyway, that was last year. They had to send a few police marshals to keep me in check, but those kids are so precious. It helped me get through the shit I hated during dance you know?” She asked, hastily ridding of her tears.

“Join me for dinner tomorrow,” he asked.

“I don’t think anyone would appreciate me being there,” she shrugged.

“Bullshit Crystal. You’re such an amazing person, it would be killer not to like you.”

He watched as she winced at his choice of words, shooting her a sheepish and apologetic look.

“Plus it’s only a few of my college friends, not anyone who you know, was there.”

He watched as her smile reappeared. She was so pretty, that kind of girl-next-door prettiness exuded from her. It was a shame that it took so long for her to get there.

“Okay?”

“Pick me up at 7?”

“6.”

“Gotcha, I’ll tell the nurse.”

~

“Hey Cass?”

Cassadee looked up from her desk, ploughing through the edits that her editor had given her. She saw Jeff, her reporter who occasionally followed her to interviews.

“My little boy is sick, his school called, I need to leave early.”

“Is he okay?” Cassadee asked, running a tired hand across her face, before looking at Jeff.

“I need to get him to the doctors, I’m sorry I can’t make it for the interview with NDP today,” he sighed, apology written all over his face. Cassadee liked Jeff, he was a doting father, and a very likeable and respectable co-worker.

“No, no. It’s okay. You go take care of Jimmy, I’ll handle this.”

“Thanks, I owe you one.”

“Nah, family always first.”

Smiling gratefully at her, Jeff hurried off, bag bristling against the glass door. Cassadee checked her watch, the interview with the National Democratic Party started in about 3 hours, and she had tons of paper work to go through before meeting their correspondent.

The funny thing about working as a journalist was that in the faded anarchy, the OB markers never seemed to get any more lenient or fair.

OB markers were classified as out of bound markers- information which journalists and writers couldn’t allow onto the papers. With the tense political rivalry going on, many played dirty. Cassadee hadn’t experienced before, but she had heard from others that many journalists were bribed with sex and money. And she hated it. The idea of democracy came accompanied with the ideals of freedom, fairness and liberation. But OB markers were the exact opposite- restricting both interviewee and interviewer, and they were always in the favour of the ruling party (in this case the NDP) and provided no real sense of press freedom.

But part of why Cassadee loved her job was because of the tiny loop holes that presented themselves to her. Always sneaking in a snide comment here and there, one word could change everything. The beauty of words was that it was like a puzzle that could fit and form into a million different pictures.

Maybe that was what had empowered Cassadee, the power and freedom of words.

~

Striding alone outside the shiny NDP building in her cuffed khaki pants and white blouse with a green hooded parka to fight the wind, Cassadee trotted along in her heels, letting go of misty white breaths of warm air as she struggled to keep her thoughts in check.

“Cass?”

She turned and saw Derrick running up to catch up with her- in a pressed shirt and proper working pants. She looked at him and stopped, just 10 minutes away from her scheduled interview.

“What?” She said unintelligibly, mentally slapping herself. She couldn’t get her mind to wrap around the fact that she had so coincidentally run into the person she had been trying to avoid. She wondered if he still saw her as the Britney Spears of the nation- innocent sweet heart turned slutty whore, especially after their kiss at her house.

“What are you doing here?” he said, slowing down, meeting her eyes. The wind blowing uncomfortably at her hair, making it slap around her face.

“I could ask you the same question,” she answered, walking again, breaking eye contact to look at her watch. She wanted more than anything to disappear, to run away, call in sick.

“I work here,” he shrugged.

“I’ve got an interview scheduled in-“checking her phone, “5 minutes.”

Derrick stopped walking, pulling her to him- hand burning on her shoulder. Everytime he touched her, she had two immediate reactions. One was to touch him back, the second was to slap his hands away from her.

“What, I’m rushing Derrick,” she dead-panned, shifting her feet uncomfortably in the cold.

“Me too,” he said, sheepishly. She looked at him, the reality of their situation hitting her hard and fast.

“You? Seriously?” She asked, almost whining. What she would have given to just quit her job there and then. This couldn’t be happening.

“This time we’ll go somewhere where people can see us okay?” he asked, meaning it as a joke, but she could see the darkening of his eyes. Groaning, she let him lead her to his office.

“No hanky panky okay?” He asked, shooting her a smile that would have swept her off her feet if not for their relationship.

“Okay,” Cassadee muttered as they entered the building. This was going to be purely professional.