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The loud growl of my stomach a reminder that I hadn’t eaten all day, I grabbed the bag of food and my computer and crawled into bed. I just wanted to watch something comforting, so I put on an episode of Snowville that I’d seen a dozen times, and ate my cold food.
The food was gone and another episode had automatically begun, and I just sat there, not sure what to do. There was nothing to do, really. I’d left Caleb’s the other morning because he clearly wanted me gone and because I had to get to the studio anyway. But since then, I hadn’t heard from him and I hadn’t called him. This is why we can’t have a relationship, he’d said. Didn’t get much clearer than that.
Half buried in the covers, my phone lit up. Caleb. Usually this was about the time I’d be calling him, if all was well. I wanted to ignore the call. Give Caleb a taste of his own medicine. Show him how shitty rejection felt. But even more than that, I wanted to hear the sound of his voice. Wanted to talk about random things with him.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hey.” His voice was fire and thistles and everything I wanted. “Wasn’t sure you’d want to talk to me.”
“I wish I didn’t want to. I’m so mad at you.”
I could feel tears threatening and was suddenly glad Caleb was just a voice over the phone.
“I was such an asshole,” he said. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Well, you did.”
“I know. I’m so sorry.”
I could hear the sincerity in his voice and the tremble in mine and both made me so tired.
“I can’t help that paparazzi follow me. I wish to hell they didn’t.”
“I know that.”
“I didn’t do it on purpose. I didn’t even know anyone was there.”
“I know that, too.”
“Then…” I took a shaky breath. “Can I…come back?”
The second the words were out of my mouth I regretted them, because I knew what Caleb was going to say.
“Baby, I—”
“Don’t! God, please don’t call me that if you don’t want me, okay, I can’t take it.”
“I never said I don’t want you, Theo.”
“You don’t want me enough,” I said. “Enough to make it worth dealing with stuff you don’t want to deal with.”
“Don’t make it sound like I’m just avoiding something like doing my laundry. You have no idea what I’m going through, no idea how hard it is for me to just get through the day sometimes. Don’t make me out to be some petty asshole.”
I heard him sigh, and when he spoke again, the anger had turned to pain.
“I have nothing, Theo. I have fucking nothing except this scrap of land that was mine until you brought the vultures down on it. I know—I know it was an accident. But the result is the same. I can’t be with you because it’s not safe for me. Because I’m fucking terrified of myself. Of what I might do. I don’t fucking trust myself, can’t you understand? Not with myself, and not with you. I don’t know what else to say.”
It felt like a black tide was closing over me and I was hearing Caleb’s words through its sharp teeth.
“We could find a way,” I choked. “Work it out.”
“I…I don’t think we can, Theo. I’m sorry.”
“So, that’s it? You’re just giving up? You’re gonna do what, hide at the farm forever? You can’t, Caleb, you’re too good.”
“Was too good. Now I’m nothing.” His voice was emptiness and regret and loathing. But most of all, it was certainty. He’d already decided it was too hard, too risky, not worth it.
“Well, enjoy drowning in your fucking self-pity,” I shot back, the anger and hurt buzzing through my veins. And I grabbed onto the anger because if I didn’t, it would be tears. “I understand that being clean is the most important thing to you right now. But I hope you don’t wake up in a couple of years and realize you threw the baby out with the bathwater. You know, if staring at your walls is so hard, you might try something else. Try caring about someone else, or something else. ’Cause what the fuck’s the point of working so hard to get your life back if you’re stuck out there alone and doing nothing with it.”
I hung up and threw the phone onto the far side of the bed. Then I flopped back down, punched the pillows, and finally let myself cry.
Chapter 12
Caleb
For three days, I raged around the farm, alternately cleaning and destroying everything I came in contact with. I scrubbed the kitchen floor only to smash bottles of ketchup and mustard on it. I ate a whole box of cereal I found in the cabinet and didn’t remember buying, just to throw up when it turned my stomach. I was reaching for anything I could inflict on my body that wouldn’t leave space for thinking. I spent hours picking rocks out of the soil, until my shoulders and back ached so badly I could hardly move. Then I lay in a bath until the water cooled, too tired and disgusted to drag myself to bed.
