Trying to think about what I can do to make this right, trying to think of a way I can make it up to her and explain myself better than I did tonight.
Staring into the semi-darkness isn’t helping, it only makes me see her in my mind even clearer.
I know from experience that dwelling on a problem doesn’t solve it either, and the morning after is the only time to deal with a crisis like this.
Every part of me wants to go after her, to confront her dad even, but I can’t force her to do anything. Like I said, I love her and I want her more than anything but at the same time, she has to want me as well if this is gonna work.
Tomorrow I’ll talk to her. Explain everything. I don’t want to upset her anymore but running after her and getting into it with her dad and make all this worse. I need to give her time to come to terms with us but not too much time. Tomorrow I’ll talk to her.
It’s hard to do, damn near impossible. But I climb back into bed after tearing off the remainder of my tux, pulling the covers over my head, and willing myself to sleep as I breathe in the fresh scent and memory of her all over again.
The dream of her does come, but it’s a fractured one. More like reliving the pain of seeing her go with the haunting scene of my pleasuring her beyond belief.
Until I hear the pounding on my door, mixed with what sounds like a thunderstorm raging outside.
I try and open my eyes, feeling them stuck together with sleep, wondering if the door’s blown open and banging against the wall.
Groggily I get up out of bed, suddenly cold in just my boxers.
There’s that banging again, but there’s no wind inside. I shake myself awake, determined to investigate until I feel a thrill in my chest.
“Krystal!?” I call out, racing for the door, smiling when I see the outline of a person against the glass when some more lightning flashes.
I pull the door open, wanting to get her inside more than ever, out of the cold.
Who knew they had storms this time of year in Woods End?
I say her name as I pull the door open, but my face falls.
It’s not Krystal.
“Where is she?” he snarls. “Where’s my daughter you son of a bitch!”
I look past him, half expecting to see her there, thinking maybe he’s found out and come to have it out with me once and for all.
“What do you mean, where is she?” I ask him, not believing what I’m hearing.
“She must’ve come here,” he whines, looking suddenly desperate. “She had to have come here, there’s nowhere else she would go,” he says, his voice breaking.
“Mayor Newland…” I start to say, but he pushes his way inside, out of the storm which he looks like he’s been out in for hours.
He’s soaked through.
I flick on the lights and notice his anger has been replaced with a wide-eyed, vacant look. Like something terrible’s happened.
I reach around behind my bedroom door for a robe and sitting him down after getting him a fresh towel, I ask him to tell me exactly what’s going on.
“I came home from the ball… the dinner,” he recounts. “You left, left early with your date,” he says sarcastically, his eyes darting to my bedroom door but I shake my head gently to let him know we’re alone.
“I went home. Krystal and I…” he tries to tell me.
“Well?” I ask him cuttingly, suddenly impatient.
“We had a fight. A fight about you if you must know. Always looking for a reason to see her, making her feel like you’d be interested in a girl like her,” he says bitterly.
“She’s a young girl, James. Old enough to be your daughter. Not some plaything you can flirt with,” he adds, wiping his face and hair with the towel, exhaling loudly.
I choose to keep silent about the details. About my true feelings.
If Krystal’s missing that’s all I care about, we can worry about letting dad down gently later.
Or even letting him down hard, I don’t mind.
I need my Krystal back, if she’s in trouble or if anything’s happened to her I’ll never forgive myself for letting her go like I did.
And by the look in her dad’s eyes, I can tell he’s thinking exactly the same thing but for very different reasons.
“Alright, alright,” I reason aloud. “Now think, Bob. Think. Is there any place in or even outside of town that Krystal might go if she was scared or angry? Think,” I implore him.
He scratches his chin with his thumb and puckers his whole face, screwing it up as he tries to answer the same question I can tell he’s asked himself a thousand times tonight already.