29. AFTERMATH

Cassie,

I hope you can read my writing. Peter says that you'll need to hire a hieroglyphics translator to decipher my chicken scratch, but I think you'll manage. And yes, I had to look up how to spell hieroglyphics.

The staff won't let me see you and Simon. Only family is allowed in that part of the hospital. I'm not sure if that's a hospital rule or a Cassie rule, but I figured I should tell you that I'm here, downstairs in the lobby. So is Peter. Lena was here earlier, but she had an interview in Caledon.

I don't know if you have your phone or anything (is it like airplanes, where the signal from a phone could make all the machines explode?) but I'm here if you want to talk.

I'm so sorry, Cass. It's my fault he came after you... I had no idea he could do something like this. But then, maybe I should have known better.

I knew he was pissed, but I didn't realize how pissed. Lena and Peter told me a lot of what happened. I can't imagine what you and Simon are going through.

I heard you fucked him up really good, though---I'm not surprised, but I am impressed. You had to outdo me, huh?

Nurse Micah has offered to deliver this note to you. He's not one of Simon's nurses but he has access to that floor, unlike me. Nurse Micah is a sweet guy. He said he'd even smuggle you a chocolate pudding.

I hope it's okay that I'm here.

Wes

. . .

Hi Wes,

I have my phone, but it's been dead since last night. We've been really bored. It's a nice hospital room, don't get me wrong; Simon's mom paid for a private suite as if it's a hotel rather than a hospital.

Honestly, I wish we could have visitors. We've hardly spoken to anybody but cops since the attack happened. I'd like to come downstairs and see you and your friends, but I'm not ready to leave Simon. We appreciated the pudding, though, thank you.

I'm okay. Maybe it hasn't quite hit me yet, but I'm doing pretty well, all things considered. It was really scary, I know, and Simon and I both look (and feel) terrible, but it also feels over now.

Doug is going to jail for what he did to Simon. Mrs. Idzik told us this morning that he took a deal and pled guilty. He'll serve a reduced sentence and go through a lot of counselling, which is good. I didn't care to know too many specifics. It's over.

My actions were classified as self-defense, but I'm not sure that that's the case. I wanted to hurt Doug. I actually thought I might kill him. He'd hurt Simon so badly, and while I had initially just wanted him to stop, by the end of it I had to stop myself.

I think I understand why you did what you did now, Wes. I get why you thought you had to go after him.

And I'm not saying I agree with it, because I still think that you inserted yourself into something that should have been my choice, but I do get it.

Watching Simon break like the lead of a pencil completely destroyed me. If you cared about me, even an eighth of what I care for Simon, I understand why you had to do something. I was consumed by my feelings when I saw what Doug did to Simon. So, you and I are okay.

I hope you aren't planning to stay here overnight or anything ridiculous like that. Simon won't be discharged for days.

Maybe next time Sarah leaves the hospital for food, I'll ask her to get me a phone charger so I can text you. Micah has been nice enough to wait while I write this, but I don't think we can use him as a messenger pigeon all night. He does have patients.

Cassie

. . .

Cass,

Here's Peter's charger. He's asleep, so he won't miss it. I should take a photo of him for you. He's curled up on three of the waiting room chairs and he's drooling. A lot.

We'll go home soon. Lena's coming to get us in a couple of hours. I'll expect a text from you before she gets here.

Wes

. . .

Texts sent on April 29, 2017 at 1:31am:

Weston Maguire: It's been almost an hour since Micah left, so I'm pretty sure your phone is charged by now. You owe me a text, or, better yet, a call.

Cassie Belford: So pushy.

Cassie Belford: Simon is asleep, as you should be. I can't call you without waking him.

Cassie Belford: Micah's smile was a little too wide when he came by with the charger and your note. He seems quite taken with you.

Weston Maguire: He's been great. Thanks for writing back to me. I thought you might not respond.

Cassie Belford: Sure.

Cassie Belford: When did you get back into Kingston?

Weston Maguire: A couple of days ago. I left as soon as I got Pete and Lena's messages.

Weston Maguire: I'm so fucking sorry, Cass.

Cassie Belford: You already said that. You even got Nurse Micah to tell me a few times. I really don't think you have anything to apologize for, not in this case.

Cassie Belford: None of us predicted that Doug would do the things that he did. You can't hold yourself responsible for what happened.

Cassie Belford: Believe me, I've been feeling guilty about it as well. It isn't helpful to blame ourselves for someone else's behaviour.

Cassie Belford: If can absolve myself, with Simon's insistence, then so should you.

Weston Maguire: I don't know about that.

Weston Maguire: But maybe.

Weston Maguire: Do you know what you're going to do?

Cassie Belford: Mrs. Idzik is insisting on intensive trauma counselling for both of us, and I'm not resisting in the slightest.

Cassie Belford: We're also going to move out of the apartment as soon as possible. Simon's parents already hired people to clean out our things and move it all into their family home in Trent.

Cassie Belford: I'm a little sad about that.

Cassie Belford: I loved that apartment. But I guess it's better we don't go back there.

Weston Maguire: So, you're going to live with Simon's parents? Trent isn't too bad. You'll be less than 30 miles outside of Kingston.

Cassie Belford: Yeah, I know. They're good people, but it'll be temporary.

Cassie Belford: What about you? How was Edmonton?

Weston Maguire: It was good. Really good, actually. I met some of the guys who are going to be there in the Fall, and the coach and I hit it off.

Weston Maguire: They weren't thrilled that I left so unexpectedly, but they understood.

Cassie Belford: So now what happens?

Weston Maguire: Jesus, I don't know.

Weston Maguire: Everything has been so crazy since I heard what happened. I spent the whole plane ride making plans to murder Hodge. I had a list of places I could bury his body on the little airplane napkin.

Cassie Belford: It's Doug. Not Hodge.

Weston Maguire: ???

Cassie Belford: The cops called him Hodge, and I really didn't like it. It feels wrong to call him by his last name. Hodge is his family name, and I don't like to think of him as someone's kid, or brother, or whatever.

Weston Maguire: Okay. You got it.

Weston Maguire: Anyway, as soon as I knew that you and Simon were going to be okay, and heard about the way you destroyed him, things slowed down. I thought about what you would want, and that meant staying away from Doug.

Cassie Belford: It's over. He's being punished.

Cassie Belford: Maybe not for what he did three years ago, but he'll be punished for what he did to Simon. And I'm okay with that kind of closure.

Cassie Belford: I got what I wanted. Not in the way I wanted, maybe, but I know it's finished, and I know that I fought back.

Weston Maguire: Yeah?

Cassie Belford: I didn't fight back in the bathroom that night. Even though it's a normal reaction for someone to freeze, it kept me up at night to know that I hadn't fought back.

Weston Maguire: Well, I'm glad that you got what you needed. I just wish you and Simon hadn't been hurt in the process.

Cassie Belford: In a perfect world, Wes, maybe.

Cassie Belford: Unfortunately, we are in this world. With thin hospital blankets and snoring Simons.

Weston Maguire: Want to come downstairs and keep me company?

Cassie Belford: You should really go home.

Cassie Belford: Poor Peter shouldn't be sleeping on those gross vinyl chairs. Take him home and tuck him into bed.

Weston Maguire: You don't have to worry about Pete. Lena took him home ten minutes ago.

Cassie Belford: You didn't go with them?

Weston Maguire: I'm leaving in a minute. I had to finish something first.

Cassie Belford: Sounds serious.

Weston Maguire: Of course, it's serious.

Weston Maguire: Look, I know the timing is shit, but I have to ask... What's gonna happen with us?

Cassie Belford: I honestly don't know.

. . .

to: cassandra.belford@baderu.com

from: weston.maguire@baderu.com

subject: Hi Cass

sent: April 29, 2017 at 4:03am

Cassie,

I'll leave the hospital as soon as I finish this email, but I had some things I needed you to know, and I didn't want to lose my edge. Micah let me use one of the hospital computers. Seriously, the guy is a legend.

So earlier, Pete and I were talking about Sky while we were waiting for Lena to come back with Peter's car. Not specifics, I mean, she's still my little sister, but about Pete asking her out to dinner. He was nervous. Anyway, it was hard to ignore how much effort he was putting into it.

"Have you and Sky talked, you know, about..." I trailed off.

"The demons that live in my mind and eat away at my heart?" he asked, laughing.

"Your words, not mine."

"She knows about everything. I, uh, I told her about that night last year. When you brought me here." Pete looked around the hospital waiting room. "She was upset, you know, worried. But she said a lot of things that made me glad I'd told her. She's... she's something else."

"She seems to make you better," I figured his recent good mood had at least had something to do with Sky.

"Talking to her is great, you know, I like her a lot. But us getting together isn't going to fix anything. It's not the same thing as taking medication or going to therapy," Peter shrugged.

"Sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to---"

"Don't be sorry," he stopped me. "I get it. It's hard to understand when you don't experience it firsthand. The truth is, I'm probably never going to get better. My doctor was telling me that there's a good chance it's like diabetes, and it'll just be something I need to always keep an eye on and deal with, even when I'm older."

"Are you okay with that?" I asked.

He shrugged again. "I'm learning to be okay with it. Some days I'm fine with the way my future looks, and other times I really struggle with it. But it's not the worst thing in the world. It's not like I developed a peanut allergy."

Peter loves peanut butter. Like, almost as much as he loves hockey. The two of us can easily finish a jar of the stuff in one sitting.

"But anyway," he continued. "Sky is special. I've always liked being around her, you know, she's a great person. She's usually the best part of my day."

"I've never seen you get like this about anyone. I thought I was the best part of your day." He kicked my foot when I said that. "It's both awesome and gross that it's my sister who has you so mushy."

He shrugged. "I get it. I've never felt so invested in someone. Even the girls I dated for a while, like Aisha, never made me work for it like Sky does."

Investment.

This is like the seventh draft of this email I've written. And that's almost nothing compared to the things I'm ready to do when it comes to you. Everything about us has been an investment, Cass. In your book. In each other. It's the most worthwhile thing I've done in awhile, maybe my whole life. And writing to you has been so easy that I never thought about how much I was willing to put into it.

I've never struggled to find the words for you. It's been as easy as thinking. The words and the feelings---it's completely natural. But this email is a little different. It's more than telling you about my day or asking for advice... it's more important, I think. Or maybe it isn't, because everything we've ever talked about has felt important. I think maybe it's more permanent. It might change things. I hope it will help things.

Shit is about to get so fucking real. Take a deep breath and read until the end, okay? It's gonna be alright. I swear.

I love you, Cassie. All of you. Not the idea of you, or the parts of you that are easy to understand... every bit of you.

And maybe it's lame to put it in an email, but I thought it was fitting to share how I feel in the same place I fell for you... it's not my fault you and I happened over the internet rather than the top of the Empire State Building.

When you first wrote back to me, I was blown away by you. And then I got attached to your voice. Your sense of humour. Your heart, no matter how few people you let go near it. Your strength. The way you carry yourself. I'm constantly in awe of you.

The other night was the most scared I've ever been.

I'd been told, repeatedly, that the broken parts of you are going to heal and that you hurt Doug a lot worse than he'd hurt you. But even if you were physically okay, I was terrified that the girl who I'd spent the last semester trying to read and understand would be... reduced, somehow.

I should have known better.

I know that this year, this life, hasn't been easy for you. I also know that my feelings for you, whether you feel the same way, or you don't, won't make all the bad shit go away.

And that's why I'm going to propose the following offer:

Write to me again, Cass. Spend time with me. Let me be your friend. Let me keep knowing you. No expectations, no romantic love letters (after this one), no long stares or surprise kisses. I'm not going to ask for anything you're not capable of giving.

This isn't a shitty attempt to trick you into being with me, although I admit that it did cross my mind as a future possibility. But I'm not asking for anything other than to keep talking. No expectations, future or otherwise.

It isn't as if I'm going to deny my attraction to you---I'm just not going to let it be your problem.

Maybe it's selfish or short-sighted, but I want to rebuild our conversation. I want to know about your day and your thoughts, I want to read more stories about Hank and Simon, and I want to keep telling you about my life.

You've got a lot on your plate right now. I know that it'd be unfair to ask for anything romantic or serious right now. Maybe ever, given our history. But I think we can handle friendship. I know all this romantic stuff will make you think that I can't, but I promise that I can take care of myself. If I'm not able to deal with it at any point, I'll let you know. But I'm just not ready to say goodbye again. I don't want to lose your voice.

That being said, it's your call.

I get that things are complicated and probably overwhelming. But maybe this could help ease that, you know? Writing to you definitely helped me when things felt like they were a little too much. If that's not the way you see it, then that's okay. Really. But I'm here, and I'm hopeful.

Love, because I doubt I'll get to say it again, even though it's true, LOVE,

Wes

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