Page 72 of Voyeur


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Yet, there I was slipping back again. Letting the visuals of possibilities as she worked torture me.

I knew it was illogical. I’d seen her sheet every night I’d been there before and not once had there been an extreme performance. Rarely anything outside of a solo performance. But maybe those had just been the nights I’d seen it. I rubbed a hand over my face and shook my head, trying to clear it.

I was pulled from my musings when my phone rang. I jumped in my chair, excited at the possibility of hearing Oaklyn on the other line.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Cal.” My excitement ebbed at hearing my mom greet me on the other end of the line. “How are you? I hope I’m not interrupting any exciting plans.”

“Sorry, Mom. Just a fun Saturday grading papers.”

“You need to get out more. Travel.”

“Over a two-day weekend? That’s a bit much,” I said laughing, but my laughter died off when she cleared her throat and hesitated.

“You could,” she paused, probably swallowing like she always did when she was nervous to say something. “You could maybe plan a trip home.”

A buzzing rang in my ear at hearing the word home.

“Why?” I asked so low I wondered if she could hear me.

More pausing, but I couldn’t find any words to fill it.

“Sarah is getting married. They wanted you to come.”

“No.” The word came out without thought. Just fell from my lips wrapped in the immediate reaction I had to the thought of going anywhere near them.

Sarah was his sister and I’d distanced myself as much as possible from that family. They’d felt horrible. Had no idea any of it was going on and apologized profusely rambling on about family and other nonsense I’d been too angry to hear. Even after he’d died, I still couldn’t bring myself to reconnect with them.

After it had all happened, there had been too much tension for my father to keep as close a relationship with his sister. Somehow, they kept in enough contact to eventually bridge the gap. Just not around me. By that point, my shame and pain had morphed into rage and anger, taking on a life of its own. I may have still been a mess now, but I was better than I was thirteen years ago.

“I’m sorry, Mom. I just can’t.”

“Don’t you ever apologize to me. You don’t owe them anything. I think Sarah is just reaching a point in her life where she is trying to reconnect. Growing up and falling in love will do that to you.”

“I’ll send a card.”

“Okay, Callum. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.” She exhaled heavily. “Well, I just wanted to call and see how you were doing and pass the news on. I won’t keep you from your wild life.”

“Very funny, Mom. Tell Dad I said hello.”

“Will do. We’re about to do a couple’s cooking class tonight. He’s so excited.”

My chest rumbled with laughter. My dad hated cooking but would do anything for my mom. He was close to retiring and my mom had taken full advantage to go on as many dates as she could with him. He grumbled about it most of the time, but he enjoyed it because she enjoyed it. They were a love anyone would aspire to.

“Well you two have fun tonight. Love you.”

“Love you too, baby.”

I tapped the end button and set my phone in line with my stapler.

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath in through my nose, holding it for five seconds, then slowly letting it out through pursed lips. And then I did it again until I felt like I was in control of my body. I hated that I still needed the breathing exercises this long after everything. Hated that the mention of a family member could cause me to need them.

Then I began to take stock of my body, the way my heart beat at a normal pace and didn’t hurt with each thump. I wasn’t rubbing at my skin, in desperate need of a shower after the phone call. I wasn’t pacing away from my desk, taking long pulls of bourbon straight from the bottle.

I closed my eyes and breathed again, feeling more centered when I pictured Oaklyn’s face behind my eyelids.

She was the only thing different than my last birthday, when I’d received a card from his family and I’d spent the week locked in my bedroom drinking until I passed out and then repeat. She’d shifted something inside me. Like maybe where there was only darkness and doubt, a bit of light shone through, reminding me I wasn’t done yet. To not give up just yet. She gave me hope and made me want to try harder for that promise of a future.

I laughed at the juxtaposition of the feelings she gave me. She calmed me and centered me, but also pushed my limits of control. The two emotions twisted inside me and I didn’t know what to do with them. All I knew, was that I wasn’t ready to give up on anything. Not my control and definitely not her.

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