by K. Ryan
Clutching my lunch in one hand and shifting my purse with the other, I trekked across the pavement and stopped a few feet away from the table's bench. His cigarette, which had been nestled securely in between Caleb's fingers just a few seconds before, flew through the air towards the grass, a trail of ashes sparking behind it.
That quick flick of his wrist startled me, but if he noticed, his eyes didn't register it. His eyes didn't really register much of anything.
"Is it alright if I sit?" I asked hesitantly, almost afraid of the answer.
Might as well call this what it really is...I'm terrified.
"Free country," he muttered, dipping his chin down towards the empty space across the table.
I pressed a tight, awkward smile to my face in response and swung my legs over the side of the bench, settling in across from him, shoving the fear of the unknown aside. My eyes flitted up to him and found his eyes were firmed locked on his folded hands at the table, so I silently unpacked my lunch and unwrapped a granola bar.
The silence, the inability to come up with anything worthwhile to say, the drooped, hunched over figure sitting across from me—it was all a little too much to handle. I needed to come up with something to talk about and quick. The awkwardness of just sitting here in complete silence weighed me down with each second that ticked by.
Something. Anything. Please, God, I can't take this anymore...
"So, it's September and I don't even really feel like I should be in school right now."
I almost wanted to clamp my hand around my mouth. Of all the things I could've said, what the hell made me say that? Pure, unadulterated word vomit.
But I was not prepared to see that his attention had now shifted away from his hands, and his gaze was observing me with clear, calculating precision like he was trying to figure me out. A moment later, his eyes slid back down to his hands. It was like he shut down again right in front of me.
"I thought I might feel differently when this came around. You know, when everyone is going back to school and settling in for classes?" I paused to gauge his reaction.
Maybe bringing up the subject of leaving for school was too close to home.
But he didn't respond and he didn't look away from his hands again. So, I did the only thing I could do in a shot to crap situation like this: I just kept talking.
"Well, anyways," I went on with a shaky laugh. God, what was I doing? "All my friends from school told me I would feel...I don't know, maybe sad or disappointed in myself when September came and I wasn't at Duke. I kinda believed them. You know, I thought maybe I would start to get antsy or bored without anything to do. But now that it's here, I don't feel any of that. I just feel—I don't know what the right word is. Relieved, maybe?"
My eyes flicked back to him and found his eyes still focused downward. Might as well keep talking. He probably wasn't even really listening anyway.
"I bet you're wondering why I didn't go back in the first place. I mean, that's what everyone wants to know. It's just that no one will ask. Well, besides my dad. I guess, if you're wondering," I gestured out to him with my hands even though I was sure he hadn't noticed. "The simple answer is that I don't think I've ever wanted to be a lawyer."
A weight—one that I hadn't had the courage to acknowledge before now—magically evaporated from my shoulders with those words.
I never wanted to be a lawyer. Ever.
And it was that renewed sense of strength and self that propelled me to keep talking. At this point, it didn't matter if Caleb was even paying attention. The dam had broken and now it just felt so good to finally say it all out loud.
"It was just something that was always shoved down my throat, you know? Ever since I was a little girl, that was just always the expectation. It was like the path to law school was laid out for me the second I was born. There was never an alternative. And then..."
This was the part that was going to hurt. This was the part that I had never told anyone before. This was the moment when everything started to catch up to me—why now? And why him of all people?
"And then," I took in a shaky inhale for courage. "My mom got sick. That just...changed everything. No, that's not right. It didn't just change everything. It upended my entire life. Tore everything apart. Nothing just...nothing made sense to me anymore. Nothing about being at school felt right. I mean, how could I sit there and laugh and hang out with my friends when my mom was lying in a hospital bed with six months to live? Everything that was important to me before—grades, studying, partying—it was like all that just disappeared."
I needed to take a moment to re-group. This one-sided conversation was too heavy and when I hesitantly shifted my gaze over to Caleb, my brain froze completely when I realized his eyes were on me. It almost seemed like he was listening.
Whatever fire had been lit under was almost toppled completely by that distraction. But then again, I'd already started. Why stop now? What difference did it make? Still, I had to shift my eyes to anywhere but directly in front of me before pushing on.
"I couldn't stay there," I whispered, my eyes settling on a crack in the pavement. "I couldn't keep doing what I was doing and feel good about it. And then she was gone. She really put up one hell of a fight, too. Did you know the doctors told us she would only make it six months, and even that was pretty generous, but she toughed it out for eight?"
I swallowed as my brought my eyes back up to the table. Caleb shook his head and a small smile touched his lips. He was listening. For some reason, knowing someone, anyone, was not just hearing me, but actually listening...tears burned my eyes and I had to swallow them back.
"When she was gone," I sighed. "I guess I just sort of hit rock bottom. I didn't see a reason for going back to school because there was no point, you know?"
I looked to him now as I asked the question and he nodded solemnly, his eyes still fixed carefully on me, but it didn't unnerve me now the way it did before. Just seeing the understanding and the acceptance of my story in his eyes kept me on this crazy truth train and now I had no intention of getting off.
"If it didn't feel right before my mom...before she died," my breath caught on that last word because saying it out loud still felt foreign and strange. "It definitely didn't feel right after. I just don't see the point in wasting your life doing something you have no interest in and never will just to make other people happy. I mean, don't get me wrong—I broke my dad's heart when I told him I wasn't going back this semester. I spent the whole summer feeling like complete crap because of it."
Caleb's voice floated softly across the table, but the sound of it still shocked me. "But you still think you did the right thing though."
I nodded, feeling a smile tugging at my lips. He got it. He understood what I was thinking. What I was still thinking.
"I know I did."
His eyes softened a little at those words and his head dipped down in a nod. He shifted his weight around on the bench and he just seemed more relaxed since I started talking, like my words were the distraction, the temporary balm he needed to forget his own problems for a while. Maybe my rambling had done some good for both of us.
"So what are you gonna do now? I mean, let's face it, you're not gonna work here forever," he gestured toward the shop as he spoke.
"I have no idea," I shrugged. "I'm not in a rush. I guess I figured I just spent the last eight years doing everything my dad wanted me to do, so I don't feel like I have to have it all figured out right now."
"Yeah," he offered quietly. "I guess you earned that right."
I shot him a weak smile and shifted my gaze back down to that crack in the pavement. After a few beats and a few moments of silence, a cold shiver crawled up the base of my neck, as the reality of how much I'd just shared with him crept over my skin. That was some seriously heavy crap to tell someone I could barely call an acquaintance. Especially an acquaintance who had just had his entire life turned upside down.
"Hey," I started slowly. "I'm sorry a
bout spilling all this on you. I'm sure you didn't really want to hear—"
His eyes darted back to me and he cut in with a frown, "You don't have anything to be sorry about, Isabelle."
"Okay, but still. Thanks for listening. It just...it felt good to say it. I don't know why I did, but it just felt good to finally say that out loud."
He nodded, a touch of smile curving into his lips. For a split second, I felt a surge of something in my stomach. Somewhere, deep down, I knew exactly what that was, but my subconscious knew better than to go there.
"Don't worry about it."
"Okay," I rose from the bench as I spoke. "I should probably head back to the office. Your mom's got a pile of paperwork waiting for me and I figured the only way to get on her good side today is just good ol' fashioned punctuality."
"Nice dig," Caleb chuckled lightly. He stretched his hands over his head with a yawn before shoving his hands into his front pockets. "Have fun with that."
"Thanks for..." I called over my shoulder. "Well, thanks."
A ghost of a smile traced his lips and then I turned back towards the office, my whole body feeling lighter with every step than it had in a very long time.
Purged. That's what this feeling was.
Catharsis. Much-needed catharsis.
And it felt really good.
CHAPTER TEN
The Land of the Living
Caleb
She had been gone for two weeks.
Two weeks since my life spun off its axis. Two weeks since everything just went black. Today was the first day I think I actually acknowledged how different everything felt.
I still felt like I was standing outside my body, watching myself go from point A to point B, just going through the motions like I was on autopilot. Programmed to eat, sleep, drink, work, and repeat. That was it.
My tired eyes fell on a random, slightly soiled, pair of panties and I scrubbed a hand over my face with a heavy sigh. That shit wasn't really helping things either.
All it—or more accurately, they—were doing was numbing me for a few moments. That was really it. I forgot her for those few moments. I forgot what she felt like, what she tasted like—I couldn't even think her name anymore.
This passage of time had at least granted me the gift of clarity. Once the fog lifted, the situation settled itself into something I could make more sense of: she'd betrayed my trust and then she'd abandoned me.
No amount of bullshitting myself into believing otherwise would help me. I wanted to hate her. I wanted to tear my room apart and shred every last reminder of her, but it just wasn't that simple. Not when I still saw her everywhere and in everything and because of that, it was pretty much impossible to ever acknowledge the degree of torment her betrayal had caused. So, as much as I wanted to, returning to the land of the living just wasn't in the cards for me right now.
Part of me wondered if it would ever be.
Glancing sideways at the clock, I gingerly picked up the evidence of my latest midnight indiscretion and discarded it underneath a pile of trash on my floor. Then my fingers flew over the buttons on my garage T-shirt as I stumbled out into the hallway. My shirt was still half-unbuttoned when I heard a familiar chuckle behind me.
"Running late again, brother?"
"Nah, Dom," I just shrugged. "I'm early."
Dom snatched the beanie off his head and tugged a hand through his tangled, overly-long hair with poorly-hidden exasperation. Even if I hadn't known Dom his entire life, I wouldn't have needed anything longer than a heartbeat to know something was up.
"Everything alright, Dom?"
It took my best friend a moment before he spoke again. "Everything's fine. Hey, listen, how do you feel about a change of scenery tonight? You know, get out of the clubhouse?"
I frowned and crossed my arms over my chest. "You sure everything's alright?"
His eyes lifted briefly to the ceiling before settling back down. "Yeah, brother. I just thought...I don't know. Maybe you'd want to leave the damn compound for awhile? Breathe a little bit?"
Well, I figured I couldn't blame him for feeling that way. After all, Dom had dutifully watched over my sorry ass for the last two weeks while I buried myself in Jack, weed, and sex. A change of scenery was only fair.
"Besides," Dom went on quietly. "Lex has been buggin' me about goin' somewhere that isn't so smoky. You know, with the kid, and all. I guess it's a miracle I can even get her to come along to the clubhouse anymore. I think she's just coming because she's worried about—"
And there it was.
No problem. Just keep piling on the guilt. Big deal.
"Sorry, brother," Dom stared back at me solemnly. "I didn't mean it like that."
A forced smile, if only for the sake of my best friend, pushed itself across my face and I slapped him on the shoulder.
"Don't worry about it, Dom. I didn't realize any of that was bothering her. I kinda had some, uh, arrangements for tonight though."
"Oh sure, arrangements," he made air-quotes with a laugh. "Whatever you wanna call it."
I already had a long-standing—meaning two days—agreement with...what the hell was her name? Alyssa? Elena? Yeah, Elena. That was it. Hot little Latina with dark hair all the way down to a pretty fine ass. Yeah.
At least I remembered her name. Sort of.
Supposedly, we'd agreed on a round two, as she'd put it, but seeing as how I couldn't even completely remember round one, I figured I could probably renege on that little agreement no problem. Still, it was easy, I was lazy, and with Elena, I would have to put zero effort into warming my bed tonight and that was good enough for me.
"You think maybe we could pencil this change of scenery in for another night?" I asked, figuring I already knew the answer.
"Saturday?" Dominic offered hopefully. "Lex was talking about hittin' up Graffiti's. Apparently, it's retro night on Saturday and she's all hard-up about listening to some shitty 80s music."
"Saturday it is."
Dominic clapped me on the shoulder and pushed me towards the end of the hallway. "Sounds good. Now get your ugly ass to work before your ma shoves her heel up your ass."
I was still chuckling to myself when I stepped into the office to clock in. My mom, of course, was anxiously awaiting my arrival, toe-tapping and all.
What a shocker.
Instead of acknowledging her helicopter-esque parenting skills, I opted to sidestep her in order to get closer to the desk so I could punch my time card and get on with this already.
"Nice to see you, too, Caleb," my mom bit out. "What's the excuse this time?"
To be fair, I'd been barely getting to work on time since I started working bitch-and clean-up duty at the shop when I was 12. Even then, Skyler was already on my case about the importance of character-building. How being on time for a job reflected work ethic and some more bullshit like that. I'd never completely bought into it and sometimes, I showed up for my shift right on the dot just to piss her off.
The last two weeks, however, fell under slightly different circumstances and my mother was well-aware of those circumstances. So, it was only fair that she laid off for awhile.
"Sorry," I held my hands up in the air in defense. "I was talkin' to Dom. Lost track of time. Sorry, Ma. It won't happen again, alright?"
She just eyed me warily. "You really think I'm stupid enough to believe that?"
"Alright, fine," I conceded with a shrug. "It won't happen again for at least a full week."
She rolled her eyes, a little bit too dramatically for my taste, and shook her head. "Well, at least you're knee-deep in something else instead of pussy."
"Thanks, Ma," I shot back. "Love you too."
Some shuffling to my left caught my attention and my eyes widened when I realized Isabelle was in the office, now scrambling to her feet and towards the nearest exit.
"I think, uh, maybe I'll just take my break now," Isabelle exhaled in a rush, barely grabbing hold of her purse as she backpedalled until her
back hit the door behind her.
When I turned my attention back to my mom, her arms were crossed over her chest and she was shaking her head at me. Up until now, I'd done a decent job by-passing her impatience and frustration. My mother wanted me to just get over it already and move on with my life.
Two weeks was more than enough time to mourn, she'd told me yesterday. And while I didn't exactly appreciate her use of the term mourn, I also didn't agree with her logic.
Two weeks and I was just finally starting to feel somewhat human again. Of course, I used the term, somewhat, pretty loosely. Who the hell was she to tell me how and when to feel? Being 21-years-old should at least give me the right to wallow in self-pity for as long as I wanted.
"Caleb," my mom sighed, raking a hand through her hair. "I'm sorry if I..."
"Jumped the gun?" I finished for her, crossing my arms over my chest to mirror her current stance.
"Sure," she waved a hand. "Look, I'll try not to..."
I cocked an eyebrow at her. "Hover?"
"Sure," she rolled her eyes. "Look, what I've been trying to say is that I'm worried about you, alright? It puts me a little on edge and then I fly off the handle."
"I know, Ma," I offered quietly. "I'm trying. I really am. I know what you all want me to do and I'm trying..."
My mom lifted an eyebrow. "Weed, Jack, and all those girls helpin' you out with that?"
"A little," I shrugged. "So what?"
She put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed it gently. "I just wanna see you happy again. That's all. I just wanna see things go back to normal for you. I don't think that's so unreasonable."
"No," I shrugged again. Jesus, was I always going to be fighting an uphill battle with her? "It's not. But you gotta give me some space, alright? I'm fine. I really am. But you just gotta let me deal with this on my own, okay?"
The room was silent for a moment as she studied me, like she was trying to gauge just how much bullshit I'd just thrown at her.
It was all bullshit. I'd just said what she needed to hear.
