by Skyla Madi
Us.
Caleb and me.
“This isn’t the direction I imagined tonight going.” I tell him as he leads me closer to the hospital doors.
He peers sideways at me, his hand tightening around mine. “Does it change anything between us?”
That’s a no-brainer. I shake my head. “Not for me. You?”
His lips twitch in relief at the corners. “No.”
The hospital doors open for us, exposing the packed emergency room. We walk in, cringing at the smell of blood, booze, and cigarette. I wrinkle my nose. It smells more like a bar than a hospital…which is weird for a Tuesday night. We don’t get a seat because they’re all filled. Instead, we sit against a wall. I make sure to keep my dress tucked under my ass and my legs closed considering I didn’t exactly have time to put my underwear back on. Ten minutes stretch into twenty which stretch into thirty. We hear nothing from the nursing staff and my father is nowhere to be seen. Forty minutes in, I can’t take it anymore and I’m stressed and tired. I can’t stop the sobs that bubble up my throat and I cry against Caleb’s firm shoulder.
Classy.
Caleb shushes me, resting a comforting palm against my head. He tells me everything is going to be okay, but is it? What if Fiona doesn’t make it? What if my father flips his shit, stuffs me into the trunk of his car and drives me to the other side of the country? Better yet, what if he drives me off a damn cliff?
Shushing me some more, Caleb reaches into his pocket and pulls out his rosary. It’s the very same rosary I saw him stroking that sunny Sunday morning a few weeks ago.
“My mother gave this to me the night she died. You look like you could use it.”
I hold out my hand and he drops it into my palm. It’s smooth, each bead crafted to perfection. I analyze the rosary and it sparks questions I’ve quelled since the night I asked about his sister and he told me his mother committed suicide. How could she do that? A little boy who was grieving the loss of his sister had to say goodbye to his mother too? I don’t understand how she could…I inhale, reserving my judgement. A woman had lost her only daughter. God knows what was racing through her head when she decided to take her own life.
“This was your mother’s?” I ask, sniffling.
He nods.
“And she died the same day—”
“The same day my sister was abducted?” He looks away from me, his green eyes darkening. “Yeah.”
I roll the small beads between my fingers and watch as nurses race about and sick people come and go. I feel better already. Caleb turns his head and our eyes lock. My heart races in my chest as his intense gaze flickers between frustration and sadness.
“Penelope and Mom, it’s…it’s not a story a lot of people know, but if it takes your mind of Fiona and your parents…I’ll tell you.”
He clenches his jaw, his green stare darting over my face.
“You’d tell me what happened?”
“I love you.” He murmurs. “That means I gotta start letting you in, right?”
My heart swells in my chest and fresh tears pool in my eyes. To be trusted with someone’s soul is the most amazing feeling. Knowing they trust you to keep it safe is a privilege you can’t trade for. It’s a privilege money can’t buy.
*Caleb*
I tell her everything…
About Penelope.
About Mom.
I confess every fucked up little tale I’ve stored in my pathetic brain since the day they happened. Explaining what happened to Penelope was hard…but describing Mom…telling someone else how I found her was almost impossible. I’ve replayed the story for myself over and over, but I’ve never said it aloud. I’ve never heard my voice explain every thought and feeling I had that night.
“I love you.” She whispered, kissing me on the cheek.
A silent tear rolled off her lip and onto my face. She’d been crying for two days and I didn’t know how to fix it. I tried drawing her a picture and cuddling her whenever I got the chance, but it only seemed to make it worse. I was thankful for the darkness. I couldn’t see her cry when it was dark. I hated seeing her cry.
“I love you too.” I muttered, pulling my Ninja Turtles blanket up to my chin.
I expected her to walk out like she’d done the previous nights. She’d get up, walk to her room, and close the door behind her, but not tonight.
“I have something for you.” Mom sniffled, fishing something out of the pocket of her floral high waisted skirt. “Hold out your hand.”
Without hesitation, I sat up and held out my hand. She cupped the back of my hand in her gentle palm and placed a thread of small beads in the middle of my hand. I closed my fist around the beads, loosening my grip when the firm end of a cross digs into my palm.
A smile stretched across my lips. The first smile I’d smiled in days. My heavy heart lightened and fluttered in my chest. Her rosary. I’ve wanted to touch it for ages.
“It’s yours. You can have it.”
I frowned. “For me?”
“For you.” She replied, her voice strangled by a sob.
“But I’m not allowed them.”
“I need you to keep it safe. I can’t think of a better person to keep it safe than you. Can you do that for me?”
I nodded, clenching the beads in my hand. “Thank you.”
Mom wrapped her arms around my shoulders and squeezed me. The sweet smell of lemons and ginger filled my nose and I inhaled it into my lungs. She was warm and safe. No one was going to jump out of a van and take me while she was here.
“I love you. You know that, don’t you?”
Mom started crying again. Her chest vibrating against mine.
“I know.”
Tears prickled at my eyes. Why was she crying? Did she miss her rosary already?
“I love you so, so, so much.” She squeezed me. “Don’t ever forget that, okay?”
I nodded. “Okay.”
She planted a lingering kiss on my forehead before pushing herself to her feet. She left my room and I rested against my pillow, clenching her rosary to my chest. It was smooth and warm, filled with a special kind of power that she once said would guide me every day.
I fell asleep not long after that.
I didn’t know how long I was asleep for before I was awoken by a slamming drawer in the kitchen. I blinked away the sleep in my eyes and sat up, the rosary still tucked neatly into my palm. I waited, listening to the sounds of sobs as they filtered up the hallway and into my room.
Something was off. Now that I think about it, I was never allowed to touch her precious rosary. I was barely allowed to look at it and now she was giving it to me? To have as my own? She got it when she was in the Vatican City and it was the most precious thing she owned.
Was she crying because she missed it? I didn’t want her crying because she gave her rosary to me. If she loved them so much, she should have them.
I kicked off the blankets and crept out of bed. The soles of my feet touched the cool varnished floor as I plodded down the hall and turned left into the kitchen.
I froze as red liquid seeped along the white tiles. It kind of looked like beet juice…only it was thicker…and darker…and it poured from Mom’s sagging body.
I took one look at her arms and realized it was blood. It was so much blood.
My lungs collapsed and my lower lip trembled as her stare settled on me. Her eyebrows pulled in as she watched me.
“Mom?” My voiced cracked and splintered my heart.
Her glazed glare was distant, like she was looking both at me and through me at the same time. I stepped closer and held out the pretty, mahogany rosary.
“Here.” I told her as a sob bubbled to the surface. “It’s okay. You can have them.”
She didn’t move. Blood was everywhere. There was so much that I slipped in it and crashed to the floor. It hurt. It hurt my tailbone and my elbows, but it didn’t matter. Tears poured from my eyes, but I still spoke to her. God would save her if she w
as holding the rosary. He’d have to.
“Mom…you can have the rosary. I know how much you love it.”
Blood seeped into my clothing. It was warm and sticky, and it crawled over my skin like a million tiny spiders. I shuddered, but slid closer to her anyway. She needed help, she needed her rosary. Her skin paled, but her eyes remained open.
I pushed the rosary into her hand and forced it shut.
“You can have it.” I cried. “It’s okay. They’re yours. I won’t take them again. You can have it.”
I swiped at my face, painting her blood over my cheek.
“Please, Mom.” I dropped my head against her shoulder, but it didn’t feel like it usually did. It wasn’t comforting. It didn’t fill me with warmth. The scent of lemon and ginger was gone, replaced by the coppery smell of blood.
“I’m sorry.”
I knew what it was about. She hated me because I let Penelope get taken by the man in the van. She wanted to be with Penelope, not with me.
Because I was weak.
Because I didn’t put up a fight.
I saw her face when she found me sitting by myself. The shock. The horror. The hatred.
She cuddled me and kissed me. She told me it was okay, that it wasn’t my fault.
And then she killed herself…because she couldn’t bear the sight of me.
…but words will never hurt me.
Throw a stone at my body and the bone will mend, the cut will heal, and the bruise will fade, but words…words are more powerful than any bomb, any rifle, any punch. Words sign peace treaties, words aide negotiations, and help us express our emotions. Words can lift someone up or tear them down in a second.
…but words will never hurt me.
If that’s the case why am I in so much pain? Why is anguish exploding in my chest as my heart tears itself apart? His words were unbearable, laced with grief, anger, and guilt. No weapon could hurt me quite like his story did. I knew Caleb was going through some stuff with the death of his sister and his mother. I thought it was a little strange he was still going through it a decade after it happened, but I let it go.
I had no idea.
I had absolutely no idea.
Images of a baby-faced Caleb, slipping in his mother’s blood as he begged her not to leave him will haunt me forever. It makes me want to hold my own mother close and tell her I love her despite our differences.
“How did you deal with that?” I ask, rubbing my hand over his back.
Caleb avoids my eyes and fidgets with a pamphlet on smoking, tearing the corners in half. “I didn’t.”
I swallow. That explains a lot. “Caleb…”
“You two came with the girl who overdosed? Fiona?”
Caleb and I shoot to our feet as a nurse with a black clipboard strolls over to us. She scratches her hair line with the end of her pen and checks her watch. How does she know Fiona’s name?
Caleb clears his throat. “Yes.”
The woman’s tight, black curls bounce as she nods her head at the notes she holds in her hand. Her golden eyes glow and her lips pull into a tight smile.
“Your friend—is she your friend?”
I nod, quickly. “She’s our friend.”
The nurse writes Fiona’s name along the top of the sheet. “Well, Fiona is going to be okay. She’s unconscious for the moment, but should wake up sometime before morning.”
“Can I see her?”
Her glowing eyes dull and I take notice of the light spattering of freckles across her nose. “At this time we’re only willing to allow immediate family members into her room. Friends can see her after we follow protocol and the police have been alerted of the overdose.”
I clench the rosary in my hand. “Why would the police be alerted?”
“Well, we tend to alert the police if we suspect the patient has been poisoned or we’ve treated the patient for overdosing on drugs previously.”
Dread punches me in my gut. “And which one is she?”
“There are a lot of different kinds of drugs in her system…but there is no evidence that she was poisoned.” The nurse kisses her teeth. “This isn’t the first time this hospital has treated Ms. Lowe for drug abuse.”
I frown. Isn’t the first time? There’s no way she’d purposely overdose. Would she? Maybe it was an accident? Maybe she lost track of what she’d taken? Caleb slips his hand into mine. What do we do now?
“Her emergency contact has been called. There’s really no need for either of you to be here until visiting hours commence in the morning.”
“We want to be here when she wakes up.” I point out. “We’re not leaving her alone.”
Tired lines spring up on the nurse’s face and she rubs at her forehead. How many times has she dealt with this tonight? “Her mother will be here when she wakes up. Fiona won’t know you’re here until visiting hours.”
“But I…” I purse my lips.
I should beg. Will begging work? I can turn on the tears and sob like no tomorrow if I have to. She looks at me, her face indifferent. There’s no convincing her otherwise.
“Sorry.” She says.
“That’s it?”
Caleb smooths the pad of his thumb over the back of my hand and the nurse nods. “That’s it.”
I open my mouth, but the nurse whips around and walks off, disappearing down the hall and around a corner. That’s it. I slump my shoulders. I really wanted to see her.
I let Caleb escort me out of the emergency room and into the parking lot. The air is cooler than it was before…or maybe I can feel it now I’m paying attention to it. I glance toward the entrance of the lot. It’s dead quiet. Soon though, my dad is going to tear through there in his SUV wanting vengeance. I hug myself as Caleb leans against a concrete pillar. The gentle breeze blows my hair into my face and Caleb smiles as I tuck it behind my ear.
“She’s going to be okay, Cass. You can relax now.” He reaches out, pinches my dress between his fingers and tugs me close.
I wrap my arms around his waist.
Despite the frustration and the sadness swirling in my stomach, happiness still lingers.
Because of him.
Because he loves me.
“You’re right.” I lean into him, resting the side of my face against his chest. “Fiona is going to be okay and that’s all that matters.”
He strokes my hair while I listen to the sound of his heart beating so perfectly under my ear. It’s a heart that has gone through so much pain, but it still manages to pump so smoothly. I breathe him in, amazed by how much comfort the feel of his body brings me. This is what I should’ve been chasing from the beginning.
Love.
Not casual sex.
“I love you.” I say, squeezing lightly.
The thought of going home without him makes me uncomfortable. I want to be with him. I should be with him. Caleb plants a kiss on the top of my head and I tilt my head back to look at his face.
“That’s the look I was hoping to avoid.” He states with a hard swallow.
He looks away, but I catch his cheek in the palm of my hand and pull him back.
“What look?”
“Pity.”
I frown. “Pity?”
“Yes. Pity…I hate it. It makes me feel…” He chuckles darkly under his breath and pulls his face from my hand. “I don’t like it.”
“I don’t pity you.” Our eyes lock and my belly flips. “I pity the little boy who lost a sister and found his mother in a pool of her own blood. Through that pity, I’ve developed an understanding for the man you are today. The look you see on my face is understanding and appreciation, Caleb. Not pity.”
His hands glide over my hips as he moves his hands to the small of my back, splaying his finger over the curve of my backside. A smile pulls at my lips as he drags the pads of his fingers back and forth, searching for the hem of my underwear.
“Did you lose something?” He asks, holding me tight against his hard body.
Hea
t exudes from his skin and seeps through the fabric of his clothes, threatening to reduce me to a puddle of goo. Do my smarts count? Because I’ve definitely lost that.
“They’re on your floor.” I murmur, dropping my gaze to his lips.
“Where they belong.” The corners of his mouth pull into a smirk.
He inches closer and runs the tip of his tongue against his lower lip. God. I want to kiss him. I want to sit on his face until his mouth is forever imprinted on my vagina.
Caleb cranes his neck a little, bringing his mouth to mine. My breath catches in my throat and my heart races, sending searing heat through my veins. Our lips graze, but neither of us push for the kiss. Instead, we let it linger, our foreheads touching, and revel in our basket case of feelings.
“Thank you.” I whisper, sliding my hands over his chest.
“For what?”
“For opening up to me—and not because you had to, but because you wanted to. Words cannot express how much that means to me.”
He snaps forward with a harsh kiss and I melt into it, only to be pulled apart by the loud sound of a man clearing his throat. Caleb’s body tightens and my heart drops into my shoes.
Dad.
I snap away from and smooth my palms down the front of my dress before I turn around and I’m met with my father’s glare. His jaw is tight, his dark irises nestled behind two thin, angry slits. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I thought I’d be brave. I thought I’d be able to tell him how it is...but the words don’t come. They’re trapped in my chest at the sight of his obvious aggression.
I’ve fucked up.
“Don’t act like you didn’t know, Marcus.” Caleb snaps, pushing off the pillar. “We were under your nose the whole time.”
Dad strides forward, his finger pointed at Caleb.
“Stay away from my daughter.” He growls, baring his teeth.
I step closer to Dad, my arms outstretched, my palms exposed. If someone asked me if I could see my father violently attacking someone I’d immediately say no, but in this moment...I’m not so sure.
“Or what?” Caleb laughs. “You have no idea what I’ve done to your daughter—what we’ve done to each other.”