Close to Destiny (A Magical Love Story)

Chapter 10

January 13 (midnight)

I didn't remember falling asleep after what seemed like hours of tossing and turning. A ringing sound woke me, but it wasn't my alarm clock. Destiny. Will. One of them.

I stumbled to the door, but no one was waiting for me. The ringing persisted.

The phone, of course. I knew it was Paul.

He sounded eager and concerned on the other end of the line. His voice was soft, coddling me as I slipped into the plush armchair near the desk. I flipped on a light and listened. I pictured him slouched in the green beanbag chair, with all of his papers and documents strewn around the floor. He was running a hand through the curly hair that he had always hated but I had always loved.

"Kat, I've been going crazy over here thinking about you, worrying, wishing you were home."

"Oh, Paul, I've been meaning to call you... It's just that my head's been in the clouds, but things are going fine—really."

"What are people saying about the show?"

"Gwen says we're getting a lot of positive feedback. She's used to these kinds of things, so she knows better than I do." I stifled a yawn.

"I didn't want to wake you, but I haven't been able to reach you at any other time. I was getting desperate."

Why did his voice have to take on such a soothing, gentle tone right now?

So my story with Paul was: We'd been together since college. Give or take three or four breakups. Oh, I tried to break free of Paul for good, but it never worked out. He'd betrayed me so many times, but he always managed to smooth things over. Each time, I felt we had to give it one more half-hearted attempt.

I guess it was because I remembered how he left me love notes every day until I agreed to go out with him. He still was known to leave me little "I love yous" around the apartment. Then there were the surprise weekend trips and bundles of flowers on my birthday. When I thought of those sorts of things, I got goopy-eyed and any sense of resolve disappeared. But how could all of this make up for the betrayal? That's what I had asked myself over and over. I never wanted to face the answer.

"Kat," he said, interrupting my thoughts, "when are you coming home? And I don't mean to New York, but back to our apartment. You can't stay with Blanche forever you know."

I had been living with my older sister ever since I'd left the hospital. Paul and I were going through too much turmoil. At that point, there was no way I could return to what used to be our place. Yet, I did tell Paul that I would come back to him once I had finished with the show in London. Now, I silently cursed myself for those hasty words. I was scared. Terrified of my feelings for Paul, which returned in full force every time I heard his voice, and my secret longing for Will, who had been nothing more than an acquaintance in the dark.

"Kat, are you still there?"

"Yeah, I am... It's just that I have work to do here."

"How about if I catch a flight over?" He must have been at the edge of the beanbag, set to head out the door.

"I'm not ready," I said, my heart pounding. "Paul, I have to take my time with everything. I'm still in recovery." There, I had said it. I had brought up the usual bone of contention. Paul was convinced that I never had been ill. That, he always said, isn't a real illness: You can control it after all. Those were his words. He didn't realize I continued to suffer in any way other than in my own imagination. But this time, he didn't fall into the trap.

"I know, Kat... I understand."

I swallowed hard and told him I would call soon and let him know when I'd be back. It wouldn't be too far off, I said. Tears gathered in my eyes as I hung up the phone. But I didn't understand why.

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