“I’d fight harder to see him too, but I doubt he’d even know I was there, since I can’t speak to him out loud.”
“Oh gosh, Caleb. I’m sure he would be able to sense your presence on some level. I really do. Maybe they would allow Cameron?”
“Oh, they would, but he doesn’t want to. He is positive they’d try to badger him into leaving me, and that’s something he’s steadfast about not doing. We may not be flesh and blood, but he’s never seen it that way. Thank heavens for that. I’d be lost without him. He’s given me purpose again.”
“I imagine,” I sigh. “Wow, Caleb—I’m honestly speechless. That’s a lot. Thank you for sharing that with me though.”
He nods. “Sorry. This was heavier than I planned on getting tonight. At all, really.”
“No, don’t be sorry. You have absolutely no reason to apologize.”
If you only knew what I’m too wary of unleashing on you from my own past. All the guilt I still sometimes feel about not pursuing the asshole that assaulted me because who knows if he could have done it to more women. Everything I have to go through to remind myself that I’m not too damaged to move on. The freakish amount of anxiety I feel about a simpledate—I mean, seriously. This isn’t normal!
“I just feel bad that I keep bringing all this doom and gloom, when I’m supposed to be keeping things light. You already see me at my worst with all these appointments too. I guess I just feel comfortable around you.” He shifts, offering me a weak grin. “Let’s move on to less gloomy topics, shall we? This sunset—” He gestures out over the open water.
“Is absolutely stunning,” I finish his statement for him.
“I was actually going to say it looks okay, I guess, but pales in comparison to you.”
I giggle at the flushed feeling tickling my cheeks. “Alright, spill… what’s your flaw?”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s absolutely no way you’re so full of all this charm without having some sort of giant red flag.”
His lips thin and he nods. “That’d probably be my unhealthy obsession with collecting discarded department store mannequins. My entire shed is filled with them.”
I rear back, my eyes going wide. “Cut it out; no you don’t. Caleb, that’s fuckin’ creepy as shit.”
He laughs. It’s soundless, but behind the scar, his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “No, I really don’t. I have—well, had—a lot of hobbies, but that isn’t one of them.”
“What were some of your hobbies then?” I ask.
He proceeds to settle back on the bench and sign to me all the things he used to enjoy doing in his free time. Caleb really is a man of very many interests. It seems to me as if there isn’t much he hasn’t done. I get the feeling this is the first time he’s shared all this with anyone since he lost his ability to use his voice, given the huge smile he dons while telling me all about his dare-devilish past.
He still snowboards in the winter, but doesn’t do thebig-mountainstuff anymore, and he always goes alone now—too afraid to put his son at risk. He used to do motocross, but sold his bike after the accident. He’d like to get back into kite-surfing again, eventually. All the stuff that scares the absolute living shit out of me, it sounds like he thrives on it.
One thing is for certain, Caleb is an adrenaline junkie. It seems like he gave a lot of it up, however, after the accident. I'm not sure if that's due to fear or from lack of accessibility, but just knowing that he's no longer out there seeking the things that bring him joy is disheartening. I understand it though. I myself feel like I let my past hold me back way too much. Sometimes, it feels more like I'm just surviving, rather than thriving. Other times, I thank my lucky stars for the blessings I've been given despite the trauma. My outlook is forever changing, much like the rise and fall of the tides at sea.
Suddenly, my stomach rumbles. “Hungry yet?” he asks me, a single eyebrow arched quizzically.
“Ugh, yes. Fine, we can go out to dinner,” I feign annoyance with a playful smirk. Honestly? I think I was set on letting him take me out to dinner the first time he asked earlier at the ice cream shop.
“Do you want to go to Portside?”
“No!” I blurt, dread coiling with me. I clear my throat, attempting to smooth over my sudden outburst. “Um, no thank you. I don’t like going to bars, sorry.”
His brows shoot up momentarily before he reconsiders and suggests, “Okay, that’s fine. How about Spinelli’s? Do you like Italian?”
“Love it,” I tell him. “But I’ve never been to Spinelli’s, actually.”
“If you love the fare, why not?”
I smirk. “I’m essentially married to a man whose Nonna grew up in Verona. He says it’d be a form of blasphemy to eat there when he can make better gnocchi at home.”
His brows furrow at that. He looks lost in a memory for a moment, before his hands raise back up. “Well, let’s go test that theory. Time to settle the great gnocchi debate.”
Not that I have any to compare this to as an adult, but in terms of first dates, this really was a fantastic one. I’m sure, throughout the night, Caleb must have wondered about my quirks—my mistrust of having anything to drink unless it was a closed capped bottle of water, not the house water from a pitcher, and wanting to be seated somewhere in the middle of the crowded dining room, instead of in a quieter corner—but at least he was respectful enough not to pry. And not once did he bring up the fact that he had told me so much about himself, and yet I ended up not having the courage to give him much of anything about me. It’s like he was just happy to ramble on about himself, and I’m sure that’s mostly because someone can finally understand him.
