His foot missed the last step on the way down the stairs. He stumbled and fell. His hands slapped against the wooden floorboards as he caught himself. But the sound wasn’t that loud. Maybe Anna hadn’t heard. After waiting in silence for a few seconds, hearing nothing from the study, he pulled himself up with the help of the railing and made his way into the kitchen.
He took a seat at the table and let his head fall forward into his waiting hands. His fingers weaved through his hair, which had grown long over the weeks, and their pads gripped his scalp on either side. He thought about the space in between his hands. It was skin, bone, membranes, neurons. And it wasn’t working right, not anymore. Maybe the medication was making everything in between his hands slowly disappear. Maybe that’s how it was curing him, taking away everything that made him himself and replacing it with nothingness. He was too tired and terrified to think about it, and it was just confusing him. The idea of it lingered, though, and soon he was crying. The thought of there being nothing, of disappearing, was too much. He didn’t know how he could live like this any longer. He was doing it for Anna’s sake, ignoring the fact that she’d become close to miserable herself, but he couldn’t leave her alone. This was the way it had to be.
He wiped his face with the dish towel. Determined to prove that there had to be something of substance left in him, he dragged himself back upstairs with a vengeance.
Shapes. I can draw shapes.
So he drew a cube, a cube made of squiggly lines, but it was a cube. Then he drew another. Soon cubes covered the page. They were all supposed to look the same, but the tremors in his hand made that impossible. He thought hard about what they meant, why he was doing it, but when nothing came to him, he drew even more to fill the void.
A half hour passed. He took a sick satisfaction in the fact that he had tricked Anna into thinking everything might actually be all right.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Over the next couple of days it had rained almost constantly. The color of the sky hardly changed with the coming of morning, the black tweaking itself only slightly to form an intimidating gray. The darkness made Caleb sleep even more than usual during the day. As a result, Anna was left by herself.
She missed him desperately. Sometimes she would lie in bed with him while he slept, just to be close to him. But she could only lie there for so long. Then she’d write, sometimes for hours. She found some joy in reading, taking care of her basil, lots of other little things. Even though her heart was breaking for him, she wasn’t falling into the same old pattern. Instead of analyzing every thought that happened to float through her mind, obsessing over her shortcomings and hating herself for them, terrified of being consumed by a panic attack that would do its worst and leave her broken, she found she was able to just be. Be with herself. The change in her was all because of Caleb. He’d built her up into a woman, one who was at peace with what her mind and her body could do. She was grateful to him for that, and loved him even more for it.
Finally one day, the sun came out. Driven by a hankering for pancakes, she pulled the skillet out from the kitchen cabinet, a little less carefully than she could have done, and banged it against some neighboring pots. Maybe the noise would wake Caleb. She was anxious to get outside with him and didn’t want to wait until the late afternoon for him to wake up.
He shuffled into the kitchen just as the edges on the puddles of batter had begun to turn brown.
“Hi,” she said, trying to flip one of the half-cooked pancakes onto its raw side.
“Hey,” he mumbled as he sat down, wearing his uniform—no shirt and blue sweatpants. His face fell into his hands.
“Sorry. I hope I didn’t wake you up,” she lied.
“No, I want you to wake me up. I sleep too much. I need to stop sleeping so much.” He turned toward the stove. “Pancakes smell good.”
“Almost done. Want to grab some syrup?” His feet scuffed against the floor on the way over to the cabinet. Once he’d set the plastic bottle onto the table, he went over to the sink, which was a few feet away from her, and grabbed the pill bottles next to it. He popped open each one, shook the pills inside, and emptied them all out onto the counter.
“What are you doing?” she asked as he bent over the two piles, one white and one pink.
“Nothing,” he mumbled. “What’s today?”
“Thursday.” She added another small cube of butter to the skillet, which sizzled and smoked in protest when it hit the screaming-hot metal.
“Hmm,” he grunted as he arranged the pills in two straight lines, one above the other.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just want to make sure I didn’t skip any.” He counted each line from left to right. And then again. He swept all but two of the pills off the counter and into his cupped hand, dropping them back into their respective bottles. The two pills that he’d left out ended up in the back of his throat.
She piled two pancakes onto her own plate, and four onto Caleb’s, and set them on the table. He squeezed what looked like gallons of syrup onto his pancakes, saturating them so that they deflated and lay flat under the weight of the gooeyness. She watched confused as he shoveled the bites into his mouth, not seeming to notice or care. He ate so quickly that she wasn’t even halfway finished by the time he was done. As he waited for her to be done, he pulled his fork through the puddle of leftover syrup.
“Do we have any coffee that’s not decaf?” he asked suddenly.
“No. Why? I thought you didn’t drink regular.”
He wouldn’t make eye contact with her and took too long of a pause before he answered.
“I need regular coffee now. It’ll keep me awake more.”
“If you need to sleep, then let yourself.”
“Make sure we get regular coffee next time,” he answered, like she hadn’t responded in the first place.
She ate the rest of her pancakes in silence and worry. When she carried both empty plates to the sink, Caleb followed, but he went straight for the pill bottles. He cracked open their caps and dumped the pills out again onto the counter, arranging them into two straight lines. His lips moved silently as he counted each row, from left to right, again.
She felt sick. The weight of the pancakes settling in her stomach and the aftertaste of the too-sweet syrup made it worse. Her first instinct was to scream out, ask him what he was doing. Instead she washed the dishes, sponging the slick coating of syrup off his plate and into the sink. She focused completely on washing the dishes, because if she let herself think about what he was doing, she would fall to pieces. She worked meticulously, guiding every last crumb clinging to the bottom of the sink toward the drain. The warm water ran over her hands for a long time. It felt good, and she wanted to drown out the sickness of what was happening a few inches to her left. She didn’t look back at him but heard the sound of pills being dropped one by one into the bottles and then the snapping of the caps. Her hand, which was wringing the sponge dry, was shaking.
“What do you want to do today?” he asked. Now that he was finished with—she didn’t even know what—she looked at him, terrified. “What? Any ideas?”
I need to ignore it, like he’s doing.
“Um, uh…maybe a walk around the lake?” She dried her hands on the dish towel hanging on a hook below her, holding her hands together through the fabric and trying to steady them.
“Sounds good. I’ll go get some clothes on and be back down in a minute.” He kissed her hard on the mouth. It was the kind of kiss that only a month ago would have made her feel like she was floating. But now her lips stayed soft and unanswering. He didn’t seem to notice and bolted out of the kitchen.
Her legs were weak and she sat down, resting the palms of her hands on the kitchen table. She needed to touch things. It kept her here. Her mind raced, trying to fix everything. Her fingers passed over the cool, smooth wood of the table. She was just overreacting. It would be all right. She could handle whatever came their way now. Th
ey’d go outside into the fresh air, and he’d be the same as ever. Maybe it was even a crazy side effect of the pills. She’d bring it up later, after he was back to normal, and make sure he’d know to tell the doctors at his next appointment. They’d fix everything.
When he came back downstairs, he was dressed in a pale gray T-shirt that made his blue eyes look gray. He seemed to stand straighter now, and it came to her as a small relief. He stood tall and handsome in the doorway, with the familiar grin on his face. He was even holding his sketchpad and some pencils. The fact that he was going to try and draw by the lake came as a huge relief. The old Caleb was still there. She just had to have faith. Her arms wrapped around his waist as she pressed her cheek hard into his chest.
“I love you,” she said as she breathed in the scent of his shirt. The tightness in her stomach slackened and gave way to warmth.
“Me too,” he answered, and pulled her closer. Finally she took a step back and grabbed his hand.
“Let’s go,” she said, and led the way onto the deck. The sun hit them harshly, and her eyes refused to adjust to the light, so she kept them on the ground as they walked down the dirt path. They entered the woods and the trees cut off the brightness. Now she could see but felt cold since the sun wasn’t beating down on her anymore. She let go of Caleb’s hand and crossed her arms so that her open hands could warm up her bare skin.
The deeper they walked into the woods, the harder the path became to distinguish. A thin coating of leaves covered the ground all around them, hiding everything underneath, including the reliable old path. She stopped to try to gain her bearings and peered through the tree trunks, hoping to find the slight curvature of the lakeshore to keep her on track.
“What’s wrong?” he asked with alarm.
“Nothing. It’s just hard to make out where the path is. All the storms blew the leaves everywhere.”
“Watch out.” He practically shoved his way past her so that he stood in the lead, all the while his eyes darting madly around them. Suddenly he wasn’t better anymore, and her stomach sank. “Just stay right behind me.” He grabbed her hand and led them forward. The woods grew darker the farther they traveled. He was going too quickly, and she stumbled when her foot caught on a fallen branch.
“Hold on,” she said as he continued to drag her behind him. “Wait!”
“What? What’s wrong?”
“Slow down, will you?”
“Sorry.” He craned his neck so that he was looking in the distance behind her.
“Did you see something?” she asked, brushing some dirt off of her shin. There must be some kind of neat, easy explanation for the change in him.
“No. Nothing,” he said drily, and started towing her behind him again. They walked along just as quickly as before. Her mind raced, trying to figure out a way to fix him. Her shoes sunk deeply into the ground, which had turned to mud and mush from the rain. She tried to step over the muddier parts, but her sneakers were getting soaked and a shiny coating of muck formed on the soles. Every now and then the wind would coax a few drops of water to trickle down from the leaves above and onto her head or her T-shirt. Slowly, she was getting soaked, which made her feel even colder.
Caleb continued to lead the way. His eyes obsessively swept the area around them. Maybe he had seen some kind of wild animal and didn’t want to tell her. She almost hoped it was true. She didn’t say anything, though, and followed silently behind him, his hand insisting on holding hers. In her worry she forgot about the cold, the fact that she was filthy, and that her hair had become so wet it was sticking to her face. No matter what she was thinking, she put her trust in him. She answered his hand and gripped it tightly, unsure of where she was but following him nonetheless.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Samuel was following them. Sometimes he was walking a few feet behind Anna. Then suddenly Caleb would see him moving parallel to their path, keeping pace with them twenty feet to the right. All he could do was keep Anna close and ignore Samuel’s ever-present figure.
Samuel had come back two days ago. At first Caleb just heard him. He had been lying in bed, existing somewhere between dreams and consciousness, when the old voice called his name. He had opened his eyes slowly, groggy from the mingling of sleep and drugs, and listened closely. The voice called him again. It wasn’t a dream. He ignored it, even though all he could think about was the last thing Samuel had said: The next time you see me, I’m taking you home. It wasn’t clear why Samuel hadn’t brought him back to the bright, wall-less room yet, why he was only hearing him in his head. Maybe his plan had worked. If the pills had prevented him from falling into a stupor, Samuel couldn’t get to him and bring him back to heaven.
But then, on the second day, Samuel materialized. Rainwater was leaking in through one of the windows. Once the rain had slowed to a drizzle, Caleb went out to look for cracks. Samuel stood on the deck, the same as ever in his golfing getup and usual wise smirk. He stood in the drizzle a few feet away, but unlike Caleb, he was dry.
Caleb just stared at him, dazed. How was it possible? It couldn’t be real. But soon his doubt disappeared, and he was even a little amused with himself for thinking that anything was impossible. Living on Earth for so long had made him accustomed to limits.
Standing with his hands tucked into his pants pockets, Samuel said nothing. He had probably thought his presence was enough to get his message across. But Caleb wouldn’t acknowledge him. His hand ran along the wood surrounding the window, feeling for cracks. There had been nothing out of the ordinary, though. He walked back into the house, relieved that Samuel didn’t have the power to simply take him away with just a thought.
Since then, Samuel appeared to Caleb every few hours. He was relentless; his presence was becoming a plague as he just stood there, silently watching him. Caleb had begun counting his pills obsessively. He couldn’t risk missing one and falling back into a stupor, giving Samuel the chance he needed to bring him home.
Now, as they walked through the woods, Samuel didn’t stray from them for a second. He walked silently, looking on as Caleb led Anna around the path. Caleb was anxious, and Samuel’s deadpan stare was making him more and more uneasy.
Then finally, Samuel spoke. “I wish you could see yourself right now. I barely recognize you. You look like crap.”
Caleb focused straight ahead and continued pulling Anna behind him.
“It’s hard to watch you like this. There used to be, I don’t know—a spark—and I can’t see it anymore. I can’t sense anything in you. It’s like there’s a huge hole where you used to be.”
Where was the break in the trees? It would lead them to the grassy patch by the lake where they usually rested. He was so tired he had to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. If only he could get to that spot and stop walking, he could regain some strength. It was so draining to fight.
But Samuel wouldn’t stop. “Aren’t you tired of living like this? I don’t think I could stand it for even a minute. You’re disappearing, and it’s because you’re going against what’s natural. Listen to what’s left of you. You’re fighting against it, and you can’t win. It’s time to come home, before it’s too late.”
Caleb couldn’t help seeing Samuel out of the corner of his eye. Even in the dark shade of the woods, his skin was radiant, like nothing else he’d seen over the past few months on Earth. Caleb was awestruck. Just looking at Samuel dulled some of the anger and brought him an easy stillness.
“Caleb? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Anna’s voice broke his trance and pulled him away. He cupped his hand around her cheek, and the touch brought him its own tranquility.
“Yeah. Don’t worry. We’re almost to our spot.” He gripped her hand tighter, feeling stronger, and led her forward. A quick sweep of the area showed him that Samuel had disappeared.
They walked in silence, and finally Caleb spotted the break in the trees up ahead. The sunlight burst through the empty space between the tree trunks and l
eft a bright patch of yellow on the decaying leaves. He shuffled over into the light. The air felt ten degrees warmer in the sun. He led Anna through the opening and onto the grass by the shore. His hand released hers, and he lay down on his back, crossing his hands over his stomach. His body soaked up the light. The heat only intensified his exhaustion.
I’ll sit up in a few minutes. Just a short rest.
Anna’s hand stroked his hair, pushing the wet strands off of his sweaty forehead. He concentrated on her hand and on everything that went along with it. He wouldn’t slip away from her, no matter what Samuel said.
“I wish we could stay here like this forever,” he mumbled, fighting the urge to sleep. Anna lay down next to him. His muscles finally relaxed and his body sunk deeper into the grass.
* * *
Caleb faced the fountain in the center of the commons. Streams of water burst up into the warm air, rested at their peak, and then fell back down into the basin with barely a splash. Except for the fountain and the bright light, there was nothing else—no other angels, no buildings, not even the cobblestoned street.
He walked around to the other side of the fountain, still keeping his distance but following the curve of the basin. A bench came into view, and sitting on it was a girl in a white sleeveless dress with tiny pleats wrapping around the skirt. Her hair was tied back into a ponytail, with a few wisps of hair falling over her face. He walked farther, craning his neck so he could see her more clearly. A few more steps and he faced her. It was Anna.
He yelled out her name and ran. Finally, they were both in heaven and could be together, and it would truly be forever. As he came closer, she stood up and smiled, the expression of bliss on her face matching his own. Now he was only a few inches away. The anticipation of holding her in this place was overwhelming. He reached out for her, but instead of feeling her softness, his hand bounced off something hard.
Straightjacket Page 21