A Tiny Bit of Cold
We had been walking aimlessly along the streets for hours. It was something we both enjoyed doing, but today Callum didn’t seem into it. I knew the reason, but I kept trying to avoid that subject, fearing he might not wish to talk about it anymore. He’d spent an entire summer trying to convince his father he wanted to attend college in New York, and I guess his father didn’t agree to it. I wouldn’t have pried; I made a point of not asking him about his problems until he was ready to share. Usually, that came when he had already become messed up and when he was on the verge of lashing out.
Callum and his father fought a lot. There were times when he was at fault, but this time it was clearly his father’s fault. But there was nothing I could do about it and I couldn’t change his father’s mind. Even Callum’s mother had given up on trying to convince her husband.
I grabbed Callum's hand and pulled him along. "Let's go," I stood stubbornly, waiting for him to give in. I knew he always went through this phase, post-fight. He would be all disinterested and then something would happen, he would drink and find some new music, or a new art installation. It wasn’t a healthy system, but it was Callum’s system for years now.
He finally rolled his eyes and started walking with me. I guess it was as close to consent as I was going to get. The weather was chilly, but not bad enough to warrant heavy winter outfits, and a few layers of clothing were enough. Callum stared at the cars passing us by, and stopped against a wall to warm his hands.
I didn't feel the cold as much as him. I was always the last one to feel it. But the cold wasn't the only thing affecting him. I knew his father’s jabs had an effect on him, but I wasn't quite sure how to help him. “Why aren't we going to the restaurant?”
“What's the point,” he said dejectedly. I stopped walking and stood next to him.
“You want to talk about what's bothering you?”
“What's the point?” he shot back. “Talking, not talking, what difference does it make? We're still be stuck in this hell-hole.”
He was in one of his moods again. Every time he went through a bad phase, he always came to this, blaming it all on the town and its residents. I’m sure he had his reasons, but I couldn’t understand why he was so angry all the time. Why he constantly acted like he would rather be somewhere else. It had started to bug me. I wanted to see him happy and content, but it appeared he wasn’t willing to make a compromise. He argued with his parents a lot. But because I wanted to help, and I knew he was messed up, I tried to keep my voice calm. “Callum, do you really hate this place so much?”
“The real question is, why don't you?”
“I don't know—”
“It's all the same! Every weekend you go to town to sit in that one restaurant and eat. Then you go to the same bar you've gone a million times already, a bar that serves little more than beer and fucking Wild Turkey! Every fucking day begins the same. Ends the same. I’m going to suffocate and die here and no one will even know!”
I knew he was sad, but I honestly didn't know what to say to him when he got this way. We were in high school, we shouldn't have everything figured out, but he did and I admired that about him. But it also meant he got frustrated a lot with the way things were around here. “Callum, it's going to be fine—”
“That's what everyone keeps saying, it's going to be fine, but how? How will anything change if I don't change it?”
I know he wanted to change the world. I just didn't know what I was going to do, while he was busy working on that life goal. “You should do it then.”
“Do what?”
“Start changing things.”
He looked at me. “You don't know what you're saying.”
He was so wrong about that. “I know.”
He kept staring at me. “Jess, I can't be here. I can't keep doing this, I should try new things. I need to run if Dad won’t allow it—”
“You do what you need to do, Callum.”
He clearly wasn't expecting that response. “I need to go to New York. It's the only way.”
Tears threatened to fall from my eyes, but I didn't let them. “I know.”
He kissed me on the cheek. “You're a good friend, Jess.”
Friend.
I don't know what hurt me more. The fact that he was leaving, or that I'd been reduced to a friend. My heart was breaking into a million pieces but no one came to my rescue, least of all the person who had caused me so much pain. I stood there, gathering the strength to do what I knew I had to do next.
Callum smiled and grabbed my hands. “We should go to the restaurant to celebrate.”
I slowly pulled away my hands. “I'm sorry, Callum.”
“Sorry for what?”
I took a few steps back, away from him. “I can't be your friend.”
I could hear him calling out my name.
But he didn't stop me.
He didn't even come after me.
I kept walking until I was safely out of his life.