Chapter Thirteen
Caleb
I couldn’t shake the awful feeling I had about what I’d said last night.
I couldn’t decide if I felt worse about them being a lie, or about Mira having heard them.
Of course, she meant more than nothing to me.
Every time I changed into the damned grizzly, I crept up to her house like a stalker and watched her work outside just so I could feel connected to something from my old life.
She was my most coveted anchor right now.
It was in her best interest to stay naive of that, though.
I spent the majority of the day working on her dilapidated roof.
The other repairs would be worthless if it kept leaking everywhere and causing more wood rot every time the clouds opened up.
I took my shirt off in the heat of the day.
It was cool, but between the physical exertion and frustration with myself, I had worked myself into an inferno.
I would be able to see her truck coming from my vantage point, so I’d just shimmy down the ladder and cover my scars back up before she arrived.
I checked the road for the billionth time and shook my head. The more I told myself not to look for her, the more I did. And the longer she took in town, the more worried I became. What errand could she have that would take the entire morning and most of the afternoon?
I slid my hammer into the tool belt draped around my waist. The wooden handle made a soft zipping sound as it fell into the leather loop made for it.
I scooted over the weather-rotted shingles and cranked the radio I had hauled up here as loud as was comfortable to my oversensitive ears. Water to drown out thoughts of Mira.
A Slipknot song blared. It wasn’t usually the type of music I enjoyed, but it created an unavoidable distraction and an intense beat to work to.
I wiped my brow and made an unattainable goal for myself to finish half of the roof before the sinking sun robbed me of essential light for the job.
I was good under pressure and liked a challenge.
Hours of racing time did, indeed, keep my thoughts focused.
The sun was a half circle that promised to disappear behind the horizon when I finally stood up and stretched my aching back.
I watched it sink slowly behind the trees.
The moment would have been profound if I hadn’t realized hours ago that I left the pain meds in my jacket pocket in Brian’s truck.
The half-healed remnants of my fight for life screamed their existence.
The music cut off mid-song, and I frowned at the old radio in confusion.
“Roof is looking really good, Caleb,” Mira said from behind me.
I turned and crouched to keep my balance. She stood on the ladder so only her face and shoulders were visible. She tossed the extension cord that had powered the radio to the ground below.
“Hand me the radio, and I’ll take it down for you,” she offered.
I looked around in panic. I felt naked without my shirt. Before the bear, I would have never thought twice about taking it off, but these days, my self-consciousness was a dark and unwelcome companion.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing. I just…can you give me a minute?” I crossed my arms over the biggest scar. It wasn’t enough to cover them all, though. Not by a long shot.
She furrowed her brow and raked her eyes across my marred flesh. “Okay,” she said quietly.
I didn’t miss the hurt in her tone, and it made me angry to care so much about it.
I couldn’t seem to stop hurting her. Maybe if she wasn’t so fragile.
I needed somewhere to place my blame, and I rubbed my face with the realization that I didn’t really like what I had become.
Not just the bear part of me, but the man I was turning into.
I cursed under my breath and left the radio on its perch by the chimney.
The weather was steady, so the roofing supplies would hold until morning.
The last rung of the ladder groaned as I hopped off and looked around for Mira.
She must have gone inside. I hesitated. I should leave right now and let her be, but I’d never get to sleep tonight if the last thing I showed her was impatience.
The gnawing ache inside of me begged to right the wrongs that had come from my mouth yesterday.
After I threw my tool belt in the passenger seat of the work truck and pulled my cotton T-shirt firmly over my chest, I knocked softly on the frame of her door.
She stuck her head out of her bedroom. “You leaving?”
“Yeah, I’m gonna head out. I’ll be back tomorrow to finish the roof.”
“Okay. I got you something.”
She grabbed a brown paper bag off the kitchen counter as I stood in her doorway.
“Figured you’d be starving,” she said as she handed it to me.
“You didn’t have to get me anything, Mira.” The bag made a crinkling sound as I opened it, and a delicious smell wafted out of the inside. It was a gourmet sandwich with a bag of potato chips. “Where did you get the money for this?” I asked her, regretting the words as soon as they left my lips.
Mira lifted her chin up. “I earned it.”
I searched her face to see if she was joking.
Sometimes I couldn’t tell with her. She seemed serious enough, and I was distracted by the line of white that graced one of her cheek bones.
Upon closer inspection, I noticed the white powder covered most of her.
I resisted the urge to wipe the smear off with the pad of my thumb.
How could I think of doing that after what I’d said last night?
“You hurting?” she asked with a worried set to her full lips.
I nodded. “Forgot my meds today.”
“I found some Advil in my uncle’s medicine cabinet. It won’t help much, but maybe it’ll take the edge off.”
I moved stiffly for the kitchen table. “Sounds good. Mira,” I said, grabbing her hand before I could stop myself. “I’m sorry.”
She froze and looked at our touching palms with wide eyes. “Don’t,” she said, prying her hand from my grip. “You don’t have to do that, Caleb. I’m your charity case, remember? You were honest with your father, and I have no interest in ruining your reputation. Don’t confuse me now.”
I waited long enough to make the silence between us awkward. “Probably best if I go.” Now, I definitely regretted the decision to come after her.
“Probably best,” she agreed.
I turned back at the door. “How did you earn the money? For the sandwich, I mean.”
“I got a job,” she said with a proud tilt to her chin. “And without anyone’s help. I’ll be working mornings so you won’t have to see me most days.”
I tried not to let the disappointment show on my face. Not about the job. I was so proud of her accomplishment. The idea of not seeing her anymore, however, curdled in my gut. “Congratulations. Where at?”
“You’re looking at the newest baker at the Main Street Pie & Candy Co.,” she said with a smile and a little curtsy.
“That’s great, Mira,” I said, holding up the sandwich bag. “I’ll tell the boys at the rig about it. Maybe drum you up some business. Goodnight.”
“Night,” she said with a sad smile. “And Caleb?”
I turned. “Yeah?”
“Your scars don’t bother me.” She looked down, face flushed. “They are proof you are a survivor.”
What she said made me angry. I don’t know why.
Maybe because I didn’t feel like a survivor.
What kind of survivor dreamt about his tormentor every night?
What kind of survivor never moved on? Or maybe it was because she had acknowledged the scars.
I’d never given much effort for vanity, but my ruined flesh and my inability to escape the whispers and stares was something that had settled stubbornly into the darkest parts of my soul.
They were a constant reminder that I was more animal than man now.
“Why do you hide your scars then?” I asked her. I watched her eyes turn angry and her lip tremble with unspoken words she was too kind to say.
“Because I didn’t survive mine,” she said. Mira turned and disappeared into her room, slamming the door behind her.
I knew what she meant. She thought she was broken from whatever had happened. She thought the best parts of her had been lost in whatever tragedy had marred her body.
She thought she knew, but she didn’t.
The survivor between us was crying softly in her room.