My heart felt a little empty.
Should I call him?
That would be nagging, wouldn’t it? What were the boundaries in a relationship? The rules? I sucked at this.
I argued with myself as I took care of my cuts, cleaned around the house a bit more, showered, and changed. He’d be home soon enough.
I held the small present in my hand, feeling slightly embarrassed. How do I give it to him? What should I say? Too cowardly, I decided to leave it on his bedside table instead, with a quick thank-you note tucked under it.
Grabbing a book, I stretched out on the couch and decided to read while waiting for him.
Wait…was it too lame to give him a key chain? Maybe I should just keep it for myself. I’d never given a boy a present before, and I doubted Caleb wanted a key chain. What gift did you give someone who already had everything?
What was taking him so long? Something must have happened.
He’s not going to come home, you know.
Yes, he will.
I glanced at the clock. It was already half past midnight. The hours felt so long.
Where was he?
My lids felt heavy, and I knew I was going to fall asleep soon. The last thing I thought before darkness claimed me was that I wished he would come home.
* * *
I woke up disoriented. It took me a minute before I realized I’d fallen asleep on the living room couch. My book was on the coffee table, and something slid off me and onto the floor. I reached down to discover a blanket. I didn’t remember getting a blanket…
The only light was the soft amber glow from the lamp. My heart jumped into my throat as I saw a dark figure against the wall. I sat up.
“Caleb! You scared the hell out of me!”
It was dark, but I could make out his shape. A sliver of light from the window illuminated half of his face. He sat on the floor, his back against the wall. His long legs bent in front of him, his elbows resting on his knees, his head bowed.
It was a moment before he finally spoke. “I’m sorry, Red.”
It occurred to me that Caleb never sat far from me. He always wanted to be close. Holding my hands, touching my shoulder, smelling my hair…so why was he over there?
Something was wrong.
My heart started to thunder against my chest. At first, I panicked and worried that he was hurt. I almost stood up and went to him, but then he stopped me when he spoke again.
“I’m sorry I scared you,” he whispered, his voice so quiet. “To start.”
To start? What is he talking about?
“I phoned, but you didn’t pick up.”
I opened my mouth to answer him, but no words came out. I felt cold. So cold. I grabbed the blanket and slowly wrapped it around my shoulders, gripping it in my fists. I realized Caleb must have covered me with it while I was asleep.
“I came home as fast as I could,” he continued, still whispering. I could hear every nuance in his voice. He sounded different—sad, pained.
Guilty.
“I’m sorry I was late.”
I wanted to tell him it was okay, but my throat had closed up. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, and that he would tell me what it was very, very soon.