Chapter 25
CHAPTER 25
ARLOW
Calli deserved to know the truth about Handleman but confessing the worst of it—how I broke Melody’s heart right before she died—wasn’t something I’ve ever admitted or planned to share. She’s easy to talk to. I’d kept it to myself for so long, festering under my skin, that it spilled out.
I was afraid revealing my condition might change how she looked at me, or make her keep her distance, and maybe I even hoped for that because as selfish as it is, I can’t seem to stay away from her. I’m terrified she’ll care too much.
What am I doing? I know better. In five years, I’ve never struggled to stick to my decision to be alone. What am I even hoping for here? That I’ll find a way to keep spending time with her, to love her, without her feeling the same? I’m confused, torn between my feelings and what I know is the right thing to do.
All I know right now is that I need to keep her safe and that means keeping her close. Once all of this with Handleman is over, I’ll worry about what comes next.
It’s hard to see her upset as we clean up her cabin, though she tries to hide it by joking around. Lee stops by and offers to haul the ruined mattress and couch to the dump since my parents will be showing up soon and that saves us some time.
“Do you want me to go with you to shop for new furniture on Monday?” I ask.
Calli shakes her head. “I’m not sure what I’m going to do yet. May as well wait and see what’s going to happen. I don’t want to have to move it again.”
“Move it again?”
She shrugs, gathering more of her stuff to take to my place. “I’m sure Mona would let me out of my lease if I asked. If the guy isn’t caught soon.”
Of course, she could pick up and go. That’s what she did when she came here. It might be what’s best for her but I have to turn away so my expression doesn’t reveal the instant anguish caused by her remark. I’ve never been good at hiding emotions. My sister once told me that my face has subtitles.
Once the cabin is back in order and the locks changed, we go back to my place. Calli moves her stuff from the guest room to my room for the time being, then leaves to take the gift basket to Mona while I wait for my parents to arrive. She texts me as they’re pulling in the driveway to tell me not to wait for her or expect her back for dinner because she’s going to help Silver for a few hours. I suspect she’s trying to give me some time alone with my family before she returns.
Mom grabs me in a hug the second she sees me. “Look at you! You look fantastic. I love the beard.” While I was getting my hair cut, I had them line up my short beard and trim it evenly. “So distinguished.”
Dad hugs me as well and we spend the next few hours catching up. We’ve moved to my living room after dinner when I let them know about Calli. “I have a friend who’s staying with me the next few days while she waits on her furnace to be repaired.” I don’t like lying to them but there’s no way I’m telling them the truth. Mom would be spreading the word online in seconds and demanding to know where Handleman is. “She should be here soon.”
“Oh, I’d love to meet one of your friends,” Mom replies. “Tell me about her.”
“Her name is Calli. She lives in the cabin next door and she’s really sweet. I’m sure you’ll like her.”
“That’s great. The more the merrier. And we’ll have four for board games!”
Poor Calli may not realize what she’s gotten herself into. My parents are good people, and can be a lot of fun, but Mom is the queen of gossip and will probably ask her a thousand questions before the weekend is over. Before she shows up, I warn Mom not to ask her about her family because it’s a sore subject.
Calli arrives as we’re getting the Monopoly game out, and after she’s introduced to my parents, Mom gestures to the table. “You’re just in time to join us!”
“You don’t have to play if you’d rather not,” I assure her.
Calli smiles and pulls up a chair. “Are you kidding? I’m going to wipe the board with you.”
It’s a nice night, gathered around my table, laughing and talking with my parents and Calli. Sometimes you don’t realize how much you’ve missed people until you get to spend time with them again.
Calli does indeed beat me, knocking me out of the game first, and then Mom next. She groans when she lands on Dad’s property for the second time in a row. “I am mortgaged to the teeth, here. Have some mercy,” she says.
“I will accept your forfeit and spare you the indignancy of bankruptcy,” Dad offers.
“Too late for that. I’m broke. You win.”
“That’s what you get for targeting me first,” I tease her.
“It’s not my fault you kept trespassing on my property.”
“Payback, little peach bandit.”
Both my parents are grinning at us and the look on Mom’s face says everything she’s thinking. I definitely inherited my transparent expressions from her.
“Can I help you cook tomorrow?” Calli asks her. “I’d be happy to make a pie for dessert if you don’t already have something planned.”
“Of course! Arie has gone on so much about how wonderful your baking is.”
“Is that right, Arie?” Calli peeks up at me, her lips twitching as she uses Mom’s nickname for me.
“I may have mentioned you once or twice.”
Once Mom and Dad have retired to the guest room, I grab some pillows and a blanket for the couch. “I have my own pillows,” Calli argues.
“I put them on my bed.”
Her face folds into a cute frown. “I’m sleeping on the couch.”
“The hell you are. I put fresh sheets on my bed for you.” She dives onto the couch, lies down and stares up at me, crossing her arms over her chest. “Have it your way.”
“Arlow!” she laughs, when I scoop her up and carry her toward the stairs. “Put me down!”
“I intend to. On my bed. Where you’re sleeping.”
“You’re too tall for your couch. Stop being stubborn!” She sits up when I toss her onto the mattress.
“I’ll fold myself in half.” She isn’t amused, judging by her glare. “You aren’t sleeping on my couch. Do you want to share the bed? I promise not to seduce you.”
“Is that what you think happened before?” she taunts with a smirk.
She’s so fun to tease. I never get tired of it. “Look, it’s nothing to be ashamed about. I’m very irresistible.”
“Get in the bed, dumbass.”
I’m not going to let anything happen between us again but having her beside me in bed all night isn’t something I’m going to pass up either. “Fine, but no hogging the covers.”
Calli changes into a pair of pajama shorts and a thin shirt. With her hair down around her shoulders, she’s too beautiful to look at. We settle into my bed, and she looks over at me, yawning.
“Your dad is hilarious. And your mom is so sweet.”
“They’re the best. I’ve really missed them.”
She was surprised earlier when Mom mentioned that they hadn't seen me in person for almost two years, so the next question isn’t unexpected. “They don’t live that far away. Why don’t you visit them more often or invite them here?”
“I told you. It’s better if people don’t get too close to me.”
She leans up on her elbow, and her incredulous look makes me instantly self-conscious. “Even your family?”
I reach over to click off the lamp and lie down beside her. Some things are easier to discuss in the dark. “Have you ever lost someone you loved?” I know her mother passed but it doesn’t sound like they were close at all. “Not a breakup, but a death? Where you know you’ll never see them again.”
“No.”
“You don’t understand. I didn’t either. I thought I did when Melody died until I attended a grief support group. What I felt was guilt not grief, and it was nothing compared to what the others were going through. The ones who lost wives, husbands, children. It was brutal. Lee…Lee lost his wife and there are still times I worry he won’t survive it.”
Her voice is soft, and I hate the pity that permeates it when she asks, “You don’t want anyone to love you?”
“It wouldn’t be right. I may not be…lasting.”
She’s quiet for a moment before she sits up and looks down at me, her face mostly hidden in the shadows. “You love so many things that aren’t lasting. Your bees and animals and the forest. Everything has an end. That doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be loved.”
“I don’t want anyone to grieve me.”
Her next question catches me off guard and I’m not sure how I feel about it. “Have you ever been to therapy?”
“No, the grief group was my first attempt at anything like that and I only went twice.”
She slides her hand into mine, interlacing our fingers. “I’m not judging you or trying to hurt you by saying this, but I think you need to talk to someone. They can help you put things into perspective and look at them in a different way. Making your family miss you now so they may not miss you as much later if they outlive you…that’s not a healthy reaction to the trauma you went through. I know you’re afraid of hurting others after Melody. That kindness and compassion is such a wonderful part of who you are, but you’re letting fear make you a martyr. That’s not going to spare your family or anyone else who cares about you. I can’t stand to see you hurting yourself like this. You don’t deserve it, Arlow.”
Therapy isn’t going to change what I saw in that room. The total devastation, all the faces filled with nothing but torment, the desolate look in Lee’s eyes when we met. “I’m not trying to punish myself.”
Her hand remains in mine as she lays her head on the pillow. “Are you sure about that? Because I’ve been there, with the whole self-loathing thing. I didn’t want to talk to anyone either, but it was the best thing I’ve ever done. Therapy helped me a lot.”
How could she ever hate herself? I roll over to face her and brush the hair off her forehead. “Will you tell me what you needed help with?”
“I was struggling with anxiety and that’s what sent me to a therapist. My hope was to learn how to deal with it. You may not know this, but I’m actually a bunch of coping mechanisms disguised as a person,” she jokes, flashing a quick smile.
She averts her gaze and absently plays with my hand as she talks. “But I had a lot more going on than I realized. My mother was abusive. Some of it was physical, but mostly it was mental, emotional. She hated me and my brother and she didn’t do it quietly. All because she despised my dad, and we didn’t. Our last name became an insult to throw at us.
“For as long as I can remember, she used suicide threats to control us. Anytime we crossed her, we never knew whether it’d be the belt, her threatening to eat a bottle of pills, a rant about how we were pieces of shit just like our dad, or all three. The suicide threats didn’t work once I turned twelve or so. Eventually I understood she didn’t mean it but sometimes I hoped she did. I got away as early as I could, but it messed me up more than I realized. She was such an awful person and I inherited some of that.”
“No.” The word spills out of my mouth as I pull her into my arms, but she cuts off my argument.
“Yes, I did. Since I was a teenager, I’ve focused on trying to be a better person. To be the opposite of her. But she’s in me, like a virus with no cure. My gut reaction is not kindness or compassion or love. I’m not naturally good-hearted the way you are. I’m still learning to be a good person. Therapy really helped me get a grip on who I was and who I want to be.” She wraps her arm around me, cuddling me close. “Just think about going, okay? Not because I hope for anything between us or even for your parents’ sake. For yourself.”
“I’ll think about it.” Her eyes close when I drop a kiss on her forehead. “A bad person wouldn’t have tried so hard to fix the way they think. You’re beautiful, Calliope. Inside and out. And I’m completely capable of being a dick. You’ll see.”
Her giggles lighten the mood and we both fall silent, lost in our own thoughts. Minutes later, her breathing slows to a steady pace as she drifts off.
What I feel for her is terrifying. It’s been so long since I’ve let myself feel anything other than pain and guilt. A notion slips into my head. I’m not sure where it comes from, but it settles into my brain as if it belongs there.
Whatever shines in her may light my way back to myself. To who I was before.
My bed is empty when I wake and a wonderful smell wafts over me as I descend the stairs. The sound of Calli’s laughter is followed by my mother’s. They stand side by side, leaning against the counter while Mom shows Calli something on her phone.
“Oh my god. Look how adorable he was. How old was he?”
“This was sixth grade graduation so about twelve.”
“And already towering over everyone,” Calli replies, her grin growing when she looks up to see me watching them.
“He was always the tallest in his class,” Mom says.
“Ahem.” I draw Mom’s attention to where I stand in the doorway, my arms crossed over my chest. “Baby pictures, really?”
There’s not a scrap of regret on her face when she smiles at me. “We started with baby. Now we’re up to middle school.”
“Do you have a high school one?” Calli asks.
“Absolutely not,” I laugh, pulling her away. “Where’s Dad?”
Mom turns back to the stove as she replies. “He wanted to take a walk and see your beehives. Calli gave him one of the beekeeper suits.” She glances at the time. “He’s been gone for a while.”
Calli looks up at me to see if I’m okay with that, and I give her a quick nod. I knew Dad would be out wandering around. He loves nature as much as I do. If it weren’t for my sister living next door to them, he probably would’ve talked Mom into moving somewhere rural by now. “I’ll go check on him.”
It’s freezing cold outside, but I don’t have to go far. Dad walks out of the graveyard, carrying the bee suit. “Well, look who woke up,” he teases. Dad may be an artist like me, but my night owl tendencies didn’t come from him. “I was checking on your bees.”
“How are they doing?” I ask, falling in step beside him.
“All holed up in the hive, vibrating like a son of a bitch.”
“I’m not surprised. It’s cold enough to snow.”
Dad pauses by my barn. “Will you show me what you’ve been working on? I’ve seen some of it online.”
“Sure.” I unlock the barn and take the bee suit from him, tucking it away inside.
“Calli seems like a nice young lady.”
“She is. We’ve become good friends since she moved in next door.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Your Mom and I were concerned you were spending all your time alone.” He rubs his hand over the graying scruff on his chin as we walk toward the camera rooms.
They had me pretty young, in their early twenties, but the signs of aging are beginning to show on them. It strikes me how the time has passed so quickly, how much I’m missing. “You don’t need to worry about me. I have friends. And my art. I’m not unhappy, Dad.”
His expression reveals he doesn’t quite believe me and that’s fair. After Melody, I withdrew completely. Moved away, kept to myself. They've never understood why, that it was for their sake as much as my own.
“I’m glad to hear it. Good luck getting your mom not to worry, though. You know how she is. She heard through her gossip grapevine that Chris Handleman has jumped parole and ran. I told her he’s probably in Mexico by now, not concerned with you.”
I’m grateful he looks away as he says it because I’m sure my expression would’ve said too much. He ran. That’s why he isn’t at his mother’s house. He could be anywhere. Including here, terrorizing us.
“Good lord, your skill only improves,” he exclaims when I uncover the drawing of the fallen log in the woods. It’s the same one I came across the first day I saw Calliope, when the creative block floated away and let me see again. “What did you use for the misty look around the moss?”
We talk for a few minutes while I show him the tools I’ve been using and some of the techniques I’m trying out. Dad’s style is far different than mine. He worked as an illustrator for children’s books and graphic novels for his entire career. Now that he’s retired, he sometimes paints murals for doctors’ offices, hospitals, or schools when they want some bright, friendly welcoming characters. The lens I view the world through has always been darker than his, but he’s never failed to encourage me to use that in my work. Although, I think I worried them once when I was twelve and drew the smashed raccoon lying in our road.
We move from room to room, taking our time while we’re both in our element, discussing art. The last drawing is the one of Calliope, draped over the log, staring up at the stars.
A full minute ticks by as he stares at it in silence before he turns to look at me, his eyes shining. “You’re in love,” he says softly.
The remark catches me completely off guard. “What?”
His gaze returns to the drawing. “You’re in love with her. Christ, Arlow, this is a masterpiece. Don’t sell it.” His response makes me think of Calli’s reaction when she saw it. She said I’d made her beautiful, but what I see in the drawing is simply her.
“It’s not like that.”
“Bullshit someone else. I know love when I see it.” He tilts his head to look at me. “Does she know?”
A knot forms in my throat. I’ve never struggled with accepting my fate. I’m fine on my own and always have been, but with her, the pain of it is nearly unbearable. It’s so unfair that someone like that—as beautiful and special as her—could want me, maybe even love me when I can’t accept it. Insult to injury a thousand times over.
If I can’t admit how I feel to her, I can at least admit it to myself and the person who has always understood me the best. “No, she doesn’t.”
Both of us stare at the drawing as he asks, “Is she with someone else?”
“No, it’s just…complicated.”
“Usually is.” He nods. “But love doesn’t come along every day. I’ve never met anyone who makes me feel like your mother does. If you find that, do whatever is necessary to keep it. It’s worth it, son. It’s worth everything you have.” His dark eyes look into mine. “Do you understand?”