Close to Destiny (A Magical Love Story)

Chapter 12

January 17

Finally, at home. Well, it wasn't really mine. It was Blanche's brownstone in the East Village, and that was about as close as I was going to get to any kind of home at this point. I curled up in the corner of the sofa and looked out the front window. Snow swirled through the air. A few people waddled by in their heavy wool coats and leather boots. It almost seemed like daytime with the blanket of flakes reflecting light into the night sky. The steam of Earl Grey moistened my cheeks as I held the cup to my lips. 

Blanche knew everything now. She was my practical older sister and a tough corporate attorney—exactly the qualities that would make her the worst person to hear my story. But she listened and didn't tell me I was a complete lunatic. I guess she was happy because for the first time in a long while, I hadn't had a relapse. And I was able to eat a bowl of the chicken soup she brought home from the deli.

She studied me with her intense green eyes and deftly flipped her professionally straightened red hair over one shoulder. She held a pencil and a legal pad, as though still at work, even though it was 11 p.m. and both of us wore our flannel nightshirts. She jotted down notes as I spoke. She always did that when I had a problem, so I was used to it by now. She said it came with the business.

"It's a shame we don't have his last name," she said, tapping her pencil against the notebook. "Or his profession."

"That's all you can say about this whole fiasco, Blanche? I mean, what do you think of Destiny and those parties? Everything's in my imagination, right?"

"I didn't say that."

"You're thinking it though."

"Kat... that isn't true."

"How could it be real then? Explain it to me."

Blanche shook her head and took a sip of green tea.

"There could be a lot of explanations. Maybe those parties were in a different location that looks like the attic or whatever it was that you found. If Destiny spends a lot of time there, she's sure to know every inch of the hotel. She and her brother probably throw their parties secretly for a select crowd. That happens frequently in certain circles, Kat."

"I wouldn't know," I muttered.

"Don't sound so upset. I'm not out to destroy the magic of your experiences."

She'd hit the nail on the head, but I wouldn't admit it.

"Get back to a normal life," Blanche said. "Write to Destiny asking for more information about Will. If she doesn't contact you, and that very well might be the case, then return to Paul or let him go forever." That was her solution to the problem.

"But what about those people I met?" I shook my head as I paced the room. "I can't forget about that fight between Destiny and Sam!"

"Kat, it's none of your business! You should be thinking of your recovery and future—not about other people's arguments."

I felt silly, sure, but too stubborn and curious to give in. I collapsed onto the couch and pulled my knees up to my chin.

My sister was still shaking her head as she took a final sip of tea, then pushed her cup aside. She asked me how long I planned to stay and if I was returning to my doctor. I replied, "I don't know" to the first question and "no" to the second.

She raised an eyebrow in the distrustful manner she'd been known for since we were kids. Then she asked if I was going to start looking for a job.

"I don't have to yet," I said. "That's the one thing going right so far—I've been paid for some of my work, so Gwen wants me to do a few more drawings for the second phase of the exhibit."

Blanche thought I had no artistic talent whatsoever, but she would never say so. She was too afraid it would drive me over the edge, but that kind of thing really didn't bother me.

"Kat, why don't you go back to the magazine?"

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Before my last ordeal, I had been a freelance writer for a lifestyle magazine. Then, I dropped out of sight. Better that than reveal the truth of my unsteady mind. I had ignored the messages and e-mails over the past few months.

"You're being completely irresponsible, you know," Blanche said, shaking her head. "How can you simply walk away like that? You enjoyed writing. Maybe it was the one thing that kept you going. And now, you're letting it slip away."

"Not completely," I snapped back. "I planned to contact Liz once... well once I get my life back in order."

"And she'll have forgotten about you by then, damn it!"

I swallowed hard, knowing she was right. But how could I explain everything that had been unfolding in my life?

"Does Paul know you're here?" Blanche asked.

"Not yet."

"So, what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to see him tomorrow." I said this almost as an order to myself. As if at least there was one situation I could handle.

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