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I can’t bear to look at Caleb.
“Yes! Of course I do! What kind of mother doesn’t see her babies fed?” Mrs. Walker is no longer pushing against her captors. Her gaze is turning inwards, becoming thoughtful. “I’ll make them PB-No-Js. They love those. They’ll be wanting them. Oh, crap do we have butter?”
The silly little cuss from the woman’s lips seems to break the tension in the room. Both the nurse and Caleb’s shoulders ease. Everyone exhales. As her guards stand down, Mrs. Walker disappears into the kitchen, mumbling away to herself and searching cupboards here and there. I take a long slow breath, and put my hands in my back pockets. I look to my feet and watch the toe of my sock brushing the carpet. I suddenly feel awkward. As if I stepped into something I shouldn’t have.
“I think we have it now.”
I look up to see the nurse placing a reassuring hand on Caleb’s arm. When he doesn’t move back from her touch, I realize with frustration that Caleb’s dislike for personal contact isn’t a gender thing. It’s just a me thing. I can’t deny the curious little hurt that pings the center of my chest.
“You sure?”
I can’t see Caleb’s face. Only the edge of one cheekbone and the dark curl of his lashes. He’s watching his mother. The corner of his jaw is tense, and a pulse is flickering just beneath his ear. The nurse nods.
“We’ve broken the thought cycle now. She’s distracted. She’ll have forgotten who she’s making the sandwiches for by the time she’s done with them. You know that. I’ll put on Dancing with the Stars and she’ll be fine.” To prove her point, the nurse picks up the remote for the television and flicks it on. Instantly, Dancing with the Stars fills the screen with sequins and tango music.
“Ooh! This is a good one!” Mrs. Walker calls from around the corner in the kitchen. I smile at the way she sways her hips cheekily to the intro music. “Oh, isn’t Drew Lachey so handsome! No, no! Don’t change it. I want to see this one! I’m just making myself some lunch. Hold on!”
“See?” the nurse whispers. “I’d leave now, while you can.”
Caleb takes a tentative step towards the door but pauses.
“I um, I won’t say goodbye. Just… Just tell her…” He pauses again, struggling to find the right words.
“I will.” The nurse reassures him with a smile and I wonder how she can be so upbeat. In just a few minutes the window into Caleb’s relationship—or lack thereof—with his mother has me feeling like the bottom of my stomach has been removed. Like the entirety of my being has been hollowed out, leaving me thin and breakable. Ready to be knocked down by a single breeze.
And she’s not even my mother.
Caleb’s emotions, when he looks into the eyes of a mother who doesn’t recognize him, are completely beyond my—
Before I know what’s happening, Caleb is leaving and taking me along with him. He says nothing as he drags me along the corridor. Mrs. Walker and her room fade rapidly from view. Caleb’s legs are longer than mine and I have to jog at his side to keep up or be pulled over onto the plush, creamy carpet.
“I can walk by myself, you know!”
“Oh, I know,” he finally grunts before stopping to pull on his shoes at the main door. He doesn’t wait for me. Just storms out into the afternoon chill.
“Hey!” I chase him, still pulling one sneaker over my heel. I hop around the closing door, stomp my foot into the shoe, and dash across the asphalt, laces flying. “Hey! Wait up!”
He doesn’t. He gets in the truck, slams the door, and starts the engine. Only the brief pause between the turning of the key and my reaching the passenger side door tells me he would have waited for me.
“I…” Words elude me as I’m pulling on my seatbelt, out of breath.
“What?” He snarls, instantly throwing the car into reverse and pulling out of the lot.
“I…” I still don’t know what to say.
Is this where I apologize? Where I say that I’m sorry for walking in on something that he clearly didn’t want me to see. Is this where I get annoyed at him? Angry that he left me waiting and is now mad at me for taking the understandable initiative of trying to find him. Is this where I simply tell him how my heart bleeds for him? How I feel such true sympathy for him, his brother, and his mom.
I instinctively know that the last option is the worst. Even if I feel it, there’s no way a strong man like Caleb wants me to verbalize something that sounds so close to pity.
“I… I’m sorry,” I finally say. “I’m sorry I walked in on you and your mom. I shouldn’t have been there.”
“It’s a free country.” Caleb maneuvers the truck around a line of traffic and I’m surprised to notice how, even in his anger, he drives incredibly safely.
But with every jerk of the wheel, I can sense his rage. His knuckles are white and his shoulders braced.
“That’s what you say but it’s not what you feel.”
“And how would you know how I feel?” he snaps.
