Chapter Nineteen
Abby
The day of Rick's funeral is cold and gloomy. It seems rather appropriate, actually. I had serious reservations about going, but ultimately decided that even though we weren't the best of friends, I still owed it to Rick to pay my respects.
But the instant Caleb walks by with the other pallbearers, carrying Rick's casket, I regret that decision. Just the sight of him sends wave after wave of emotion washing over me. They're strong and powerful and threaten to pull me under. It's as if all those years of therapy and all the work I've done to get over and move past goddamn Caleb Tirico, are suddenly wiped away.
Once again, I feel like I'm a wreck. That same quivering puddle of goo I was when he disappeared from my life.
Brooke takes my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze, as if she could intuit my thoughts. Maybe she can. She's my sister after all, and knows me better than anybody.
“You okay?” she whispers to me.
I give her a tight smile and a small nod. “Yeah, I'm okay.”
“You're not a good liar.”
I shrug. “If you want an honest answer, maybe you need to ask a different question.”
She gives me a small smile but doesn't press me on the matter. Not yet, anyway. I know that a full grilling is going to come later. But she's aware enough to know that this isn't the appropriate setting for the discussion I know she's dying to have.
The truth of the matter is that the instant I saw Caleb on the street, I felt something inside of me shift. Break loose. Something I thought I'd had under tight control. I thought I was going to pass out then and there, but somehow managed to keep myself upright. Small victories.
Brooke and I are standing at the rear of the crowd at Rick's grave site. The mood is understandably somber – a mood that matches my own perfectly. Caleb is standing with the other pallbearers just behind his parents who are seated next to the casket. The priest is delivering his sermon, which is supposed to be uplifting and inspirational, but I'm not really finding anything uplifting or inspirational about it.
All I can do is try to avoid fixating on Caleb. He looks so different than the boy I'd fallen in love with all those years ago. He's older, but that age has only served to make him more handsome. He's bigger than he used to be, has a dark, bushy beard, and his dark hair, once worn down to his shoulders, was now cropped close to his head.
He'd always been a big guy – he was a football star, after all. But now, he is massive. He has arms as thick as my thighs, broad shoulders, and a thick chest. He also has a hard edge to him now – one he didn't have before. There's a cynicism and sharpness in his face, not to mention a darkness in the air about him that's new. In a word, he looks – dangerous.
He looks so different and yet, somehow, the moment I saw him on the street – the instant our eyes locked – I knew. Knew it was him.
I heard through the grapevine that he'd joined the military shortly after leaving Sheridan Falls. At the time, I'd pressed for details but didn't get any. I knew Rick was still in contact with him, but he wasn't giving up any information. I did my best to pry it out of him – I yelled, screamed, and even cried. All to no avail. He just kept telling me that he was sorry and that it wasn't his story to share.
Back then, I so desperately needed to understand why Caleb had run out on me – on us – the way he had. Needed to understand if it was something I did and if so, what that something was. For the longest time, I wandered through my life in a self-loathing haze, sure I'd done something to drive Caleb away. I was a wreck and had so many questions and yet, no answers to those questions.
It was only after getting into therapy that I started to get my mind right. I sat with my therapist four days a week, doing intensive work. It wasn't until I went away to school and put some physical distance between me and Sheridan Falls that I started to feel even remotely better. More in control of myself and my life.
But now I know, it was all just a facade. That all of the work I'd done, all of the progress I'd made had been a sham. I knew because the moment I saw Caleb Tirico again, all of those walls I'd worked so hard to build came crashing back down again.
At least, for the most part.
I'm hanging on to my walls and defenses by my fingertips. And although I feel like I'm on the verge of breaking down completely, I'm managing to keep standing. Somehow. I feel like falling apart, but there is something inside of me still holding me together. So, at least I have that going for me.
I don't even realize my gaze is locked on to him until he looks up and our eyes meet. He holds my gaze for the longest time and I can see something in his face I didn't expect to see – uncertainty. He almost looks – scared.
What does he have to be scared about? It's not like I'm going to kill him or anything. Although, smacking him a few times across the face sounds incredibly appealing right now.
Caleb gives me a small, almost shy smile, and I feel the anger, dark and abiding, boiling up within me. It's taking everything in me to not run over there, get in his face, and demand some goddamn answers.
I feel Brooke squeeze my hand again. “Time and place, sis,” she says. “Time and place.”
She's right of course. I'm here to pay my respects to a friend. Not berate Caleb Tirico. I tear my eyes away from him and look down at the ground, trying to concentrate on the eulogy the priest is delivering. I'm finding it hard to focus though. Even though I'm not looking at him, my mind is still spinning with thoughts of him.
For the next hour, I listen as Rick's closest friends – everybody except Caleb, interestingly enough – stand up and deliver their own eulogies, say goodbye in their own words. I think it's a nice touch and I'm glad Rick's parents can hear how much he meant to everybody. It's cold comfort, I know, but at least they can know that their son was loved.
Eventually, the last of the speakers step back into the crowd and the service comes to an end. The crowd slowly disperses as they filter out of the cemetery and out to the parking lot. I linger for a moment and watch as Caleb stands next to the casket, speaking with Rick's parents.
I'm too far away to hear what they're saying, but I can tell by the body language of the older couple that he's giving them some sense of relief. Some sense of comfort.
Brooke gives my hand a squeeze and nods toward the parking lot. “Come on,” she says. “Let's get out of here.”
I nod absently, hearing her voice, but not hearing what she was saying, my eyes are still focused on Caleb. For whatever reason, I can't seem to turn away. There is something in me that feels drawn to him. Compelled by him. It's stupid. It's ridiculous and dangerous, but I can't control the tide of emotions rising inside of me.
“Abby, babe,” my sister says. “Don't even think about it. Seriously, don't even think about it. We gotta go.”
I snap out of the daze I was in and look at her. “What?”
She rolls her eyes at me. “I said to not even think about it,” she says. “Don't even look at that son of a bitch. He's not worth your time, your tears, or your heartache. Haven't you learned that by now?”
I had learned it, yeah. It was a painful, years long lesson, but it was one I learned. Still though, seeing him standing there – I couldn't help but notice that he'd gotten even more handsome than he'd been back in the day. And judging by the way Rick's parents were holding on to his hands and speaking to him with smiles on their tear streaked faces, I had to believe he still had some shred of his humanity. Of the personality that had made me fall in love with him all those years ago.
“Seriously, Abby,” Brooke snaps. “Pull your head out. That guy is poison. You hear me? Absolute nuclear poison. Now, let's go before I kick your ass.”
I give my sister a small grin. She's young but feisty. And she always has my best interests at heart. She knows what I went through when Caleb left. She saw my daily struggles and the torture I put myself through. She'd been too young back then to really do anything to help me, but now, she's my chief protector. Or at least, she tries to be.
“It's not that I don't appreciate you taking care of me,” I say. “But shouldn't the big sister be taking care of the little one? Shouldn't this thing be the other way around?”
Brooke shrugs. “We take care of each other,” she says. “Believe me, there are plenty of times when you're the one picking me up.”
I take one last look back at Caleb, still standing with Rick's folks talking, before turning and letting Brooke lead me to the parking lot. In the distance, I see somebody standing among the headstones, well away from Rick's gravesite. The man is just standing there – staring at me. And then it dawns on me.
“Oh, my God,” I mutter.
Brooke looks over and sees what – or rather, who – I saw. “Yeah, because that's not totally creepy or anything.”
James apparently watched the funeral from a distance. Or more likely, was watching me from a distance. The sight of him standing out there, silently watching me, sent a cold chill down my spine and I couldn't suppress the shudder that passed through me.
“I need a drink,” Brooke announces. “And so, do you.”
I glance at my watch. “It's only three in the afternoon.”
She shrugs. “After the shitstorm these last few days have been, we deserve it,” she says. “And you probably deserve a double – or twelve.”