Chapter Sixteen: Caleb
I rub the cloth over my hands, letting the turpentine dissolve the paint on my fingers. Romy will be here soon for the open painting time. I push down the jittery, restless excitement I’ve come to recognize as her effect on me, because after tonight, it might all be over. She doesn’t know me, not really, and what if she hears what I have to say and decides I’m not worth her time? My chest aches and I blow out a long breath. I have to give her the chance to do exactly that, because if I try to hide from her, I’m definitely not worth her time.
I want to be worth it. Because this morning was … damn. I don’t have words for it, but I know I don’t want it to be a one-time thing.
Footsteps clonk on the stairwell and Daniel’s voice echoes through the studio space. “Caleb! You in here?”
I lean out as he lopes toward me. “What’s up?”
He pulls to a halt, panting. “Katie’s outside.”
I bolt past him, my heart racing. “Is she all right?”
He chases after me. “I don’t know.”
“You left her alone?”
“Jude and Romy are with her.”
I miss a step and nearly go flying. My hands shoot out and I catch the banister, my ankle turning as I land awkwardly. Daniel’s hand clamps onto my arm a second later, but he lets me go quickly as I limp down the rest of the steps, my thoughts completely fragmented. This is not how I wanted Romy to find out.
I stride past the classroom. Claudia’s in the doorway. I think she says something to me about wanting to catch up, but I ignore her. Daniel peels off to go into the session, probably to take some of the attention off me, which I’m grateful for, because I need to focus on Katie. I shove open the front door of the co-op and try to understand the scene in front of me. Jude is standing at the base of the steps, his arm over Katie’s shoulders. She’s leaning against him like she knows him.
Romy stares up at me, her eyes huge. She looks like she’s about to hurl. I force myself to look away from her, moving toward Katie. Jude raises his head, and his eyes flash that same big brother protectiveness I saw the first night I met him.
Except I’m Katie’s brother.
“Katie,” I say to her. “Are you okay?” I try to get closer, but Jude pulls her away. My fists clench. “That’s my sister.”
“You locked me out,” Katie says, her eyes red.
“You took your keys,” I say slowly, calmly, not wanting the accusation in her voice to turn into screaming as it so often does. “You were holding them as you walked out the door.” You hit me with them.
“You’re lying!” She sniffles. “Dr. Lancaster is going to take me to the hospital.”
“Dr. Lancaster doesn’t exist,” I snap, my confusion wearing me thin. “I checked.”
“My last name’s Lancaster,” Jude says quietly.
My mouth drops open as the pieces slowly fall into place. Jude and Romy are classmates. Romy said she has some kind of internship where she does therapy with people, so probably Jude does the same thing. His last name is Lancaster, and he’s no doctor, but … “Katie, is this Dr. Lancaster?” I ask her, relief crashing over me.
“Yeah,” she says.
I run my hand through my hair, then pull back as I realize it’s still covered in turpentine. I chuckle. “Okay. That’s good.” I turn to Jude. “I can take her home. I just have to go inside and get my keys. You can—”
His arm tightens over her shoulders. I look back at Romy, expecting her to explain, because that’s what she does so well, but she stares at me like I have two heads. “What the hell is going on?”
Jude ignores me and turns to Katie. “Do you want me to drive you to the hospital?”
Like I’m not even here. “Jude, man, thanks for your help. But I can take her.”
He still doesn’t look up. “This is your call, Catherine,” he murmurs, calling her by her full name.
I move to Katie’s side and try to catch his eye. “What did she say to you?” I ask him. “Did she tell you where she’s been?”
He finally raises his head, and his jaw is set. “I’m not at liberty to share her private health information with you.”
I blink at him. He’s talking to me like I’m the enemy. I look at my sister.
If she’s his only source of information, of course he thinks I’m the villain.
My relief is gone now, replaced by a sickening, churning nausea. And one more look at Romy completes the entire picture. “What did you tell him, Katie?” I whisper. What have you done?
“It’s none of your business,” she snaps.
“What did you tell him?” I shout.
Romy is in front of me in a second, anger flashing in her eyes. “You’re going to scare her. He’s her therapist, and she can tell him whatever she needs to. You don’t have the right to know.”
“I don’t have the right to know what she’s saying about me?” My eyes burn. I want to punch something. Because— “And I bet Jude told you all about it, right? So you have the right to know and I don’t?”
I take a few steps back from Romy, because rage and panic and frustration are twisting together so tightly in my chest that I’m about to explode. And I can’t. I need to calm down and concentrate. I clap my hands over my face and immediately get lightheaded from the turpentine fumes. “Katie, if you need to go to the hospital, I can take you. Or if you want to go with Jude, fine. I’ll call your psychiatrist. I’ll let him know he needs to meet you there.”
“You have my insurance card,” she says.
I rip my wallet from my back pocket and fish out her card. “How are you going to keep track of it?” I don’t want to give it to her. She loses them every time. “Let me bring it to the hospital. If you’re not going to ride with me, I’ll meet you there.”
“I don’t want you there!” she screams.
“What happened, Katie? Did that guy Evan hurt you?”
She starts to sink to the sidewalk, sobbing, and Jude puts both arms around her, holding her up. I want to grab her, hug her, carry her somewhere safe, but Jude and Romy are looking at me like I’m the one who did this to her.
Gritting my teeth, I offer Jude the insurance card. “Her psychiatrist is Dr. Prihadi. She takes Wellbutrin, a hundred milligrams in the morning and at night. Risperdal one milligram in the morning. Seroquel three hundred milligrams at night. She’s only been on that one a few weeks,” I say. “She didn’t take her meds with her when she ran off. She hasn’t taken anything since yesterday morning, but I’m pretty sure she took them then.”
Jude is staring at me like I’m speaking a foreign language, and it makes me want to shove him. “Did you get that?” I ask, on the verge of shouting again. “Do you need me to write it down for you?”
“I got it,” he says, then cuts a puzzled glance at Romy. “Thanks.”
I swallow hard and keep my voice really low. “Listen, if they need to do a rape kit at the hospital, she’s going to freak out. She’ll need someone—”
“I don’t need that!” Katie shrieks. “Stop talking to him. Let’s go.”
Jude seems conflicted and scared. He looks nervously at Romy, like she’s going to save the fucking day. And I want to shake him, because he’s Katie’s lifeline now, and she needs him to be strong. Romy puts her hand on his arm, but when she speaks, it’s to my sister. “We can both take you,” she says softly. “If you want another girl around for some support.”
And though everything’s going to hell, I want to fall to my knees and thank her. Katie nods. “Okay,” she says, sounding like she’s a child.
It tears through me, that voice, ringing in my memory in a thousand different ways. “If you call and let me know what’s happening, I’ll make sure you can get into the apartment.” I clear my throat because it’s so tight that I can barely get the words out. “And if you get admitted, I’ll bring you your clothes. I know you don’t like to wear those gowns.”
For a moment, Katie’s gray eyes meet mine, and I see understanding there. She knows I love her. She knows. But she can’t forgive me.
“Let’s go, Jude,” Romy says. “She needs to get her arms looked at.”
I stand back as Romy and Jude put Katie into his car. Romy climbs in the backseat. Before she turns away, I see something etched into her expression, sadness, maybe, or anger. Or disgust. Jude starts the car, and Katie pulls on her seatbelt. Romy faces the front. She’s saying something to Jude, but I can’t read lips.
Look at me, I think as they pull away from the curb. Please look at me, Romy. Please see me.
She doesn’t.