Night Shifts Black (19 page)

You’re stronger than you’re feeling now.

I’ll stay.”

Day
Nineteen.

I was sure I’d be the last one up because of
my late night, but there’s no activity in the main space when I emerge. Casey
glances over at me from the couch with a groggy smile, and I know he’s just
woken up as well.

“Morning, Sunshine,” I
chirp, motioning him to move back on the couch so I can sit by his legs. He adjusts,
and I place my laptop on his chest.

“For you,” I explain,
giving him a quick kiss on the forehead. “I’m gonna go shower.”

∞∞∞

I hear the music through the door when I exit
the bathroom to my room. It doesn’t surprise me, at least, not as much as the
voices. Luke must be up, too. I dress quickly and comb through my hair, eager
to join them and solve the mystery. I’ve felt queasy since leaving my heart
with Casey, knowing he could hate my work as much as love it. Would he even get
it? Be offended? My mental journey last night had taken a lot of turns and made
plenty of assumptions he couldn’t possibly understand.

They stop when they
see me, and I feel the heat rise to my cheeks. Casey has the guitar in hand
like I’d suspected, but it’s Luke who gives me the first smile.

“Wow, Callie, I’m a
little jealous that he gets a poem and I don’t,” Luke teases. At least, I think
he’s teasing. I can’t tell, and don’t respond at first. I cover the distance
between us and grab my laptop from the coffee table.

“Hey! I wasn’t done
with that!” Casey whines, and I give him a look.

“I’ll give it back in
a second.”

I turn to Luke. “I did
one for you as well, but you weren’t awake.”

Luke looks surprised,
as does Casey.

“Really? You wrote two
last night?”

I shrug. “Couldn’t
sleep.” I pull up Luke’s verses and go to hand him the computer, but he shakes
his head.

“No, you read it.”

“What?” I ask, my
heart racing.

“I want you to read
it. I want to hear it how you intend it to be heard.”

I swallow and suck in
my breath. That’s different somehow. I don’t know why, but it is. Maybe because
there’s not enough distance then.

“I…”

“Read it. I want to
hear it, too,” Casey jumps in, and now I know I’m stuck.

I glance back and
forth between the two of them and sigh.

“Ok.” My voice comes out
like a squeak. I can’t believe how nervous I am. Casey has already seen the one
I’d done for him, but this one is different. This is for Luke. It’s more
personal in a way, more intimate. I’m not sure he’d want Casey to hear it, but
then realize if anyone has a right it’s his best friend, brother-in-law, and my…I
don’t know what.

As I start reading the
first line, my voice is weak. I can hear it and nearly cringe. This is not how
I intended the words to be heard. Not at all. I shake my head, feeling the tears
coming, both from the memories and my current failure of the memories.

“No. That’s not it.
I’m starting over.”

I dare a quick glance
at them and see Casey’s compassion all over his face. Luke looks more
contemplative than anything, and then I recognize his expression. It’s the
classic “Luke Craven braced resolve.” He’s not testing me, he’s testing
himself. Can he hear what I have to say? Can he open up to someone else’s heart?

I have to do this. For
Luke. For myself.

“
I could have told you everything would be
alright.

I could have told you it gets easier the
harder you try.

But I couldn’t lie to you, even though I’d die
for you.

And I could have told you instead of just
holding you.

But what could I say that my eyes haven’t
already said?

And what words could heal the wounds that
bleed like this?

How many tears will it take to drown away the
pain?

I don’t know, but I can hold you.

And I could have taken you far way from here.

But where would that leave you? It’d be the
same even there.

I won’t hide you, even though I’d like to.

And I could have spoken instead of just loving
you.

But what could I say that my eyes haven’t
already said?

And what words can heal the wounds that break
us?

How many tears will it take to drown away the
pain?

I don’t know, but I can hold you. I can love
you.

I can hold you.”

No one speaks as my
voice fades. I swallow hard again, my throat dry, scratchy. I can’t look at
them. I’m afraid. Afraid I exposed too much too fast. Afraid it wasn’t enough.

“Can I see that?” Luke
says quietly after a long, painful pause. I glance at him in surprise before
handing him the laptop.

He scans the screen
again, and I feel Casey’s eyes on me. I’m afraid maybe he’s jealous, but when I
dare to meet his gaze, it’s so warm and understanding that there’s no doubt in
my mind he’s everything I’ve come to think he is.

“That was beautiful,
Callie,” he offers, and I notice Luke’s absent nod in agreement as he studies
my words. No, his words.

“Thanks, Callie,” Luke
mumbles softly, handing me my computer again. It’s a strange comment,
considering he follows it by rising to his feet and disappearing down the hall.
I hear a door close and know it’s too early to be his room. He’s escaped to the
office.

“He loved it, but it
was a lot for him,” Casey explains gently as I study the dark hallway.

“I know,” I reply, dropping
beside him. “He’s with The Chair.”

“The chair?”

I nod. “He stole it
from the café. I think it has something to do with Elena.”

Casey blinks, clearly
confused. “I’m sorry, what?”

I shrug. “The Chair is
how we met. I was sitting at my table one day at Jemma’s, and he came in and
asked me to move. Apparently, I was in his chair, that chair. He’d go into the
café every day and stare at the same one for several minutes. Freaked out the
servers and café regulars, but no one asked questions or stopped him. Finally, the
day of the party this past weekend he just lost it and basically marched down to
the café and stole the chair in broad daylight, right in front of the patrons
and staff. I’m surprised there hasn’t been more about it in the news.”

Casey is staring at me
like I’d just recited the
Declaration of
Independence
in a made up language.

“Luke…stole a chair. A
cheap café chair?” He clears his throat and leans forward on the couch, eyes
fixed on the coffee table.

“Yep. Just a chair. He
was obsessed with it before he stole it.”

Casey shakes his head.
“And now what? What does he do with it? I don’t remember seeing it.”

“He keeps it in his
office and sits in it.”

“And does what?” Casey
cries in exasperation.

I shrug. “Nothing. He
just sits there. That’s where I found him yesterday when he finally broke
down.”

I can see the look in
his eyes and know I’m about to be tasked with damage control.

He jumps to his feet,
and I follow.

“What are you doing?”
I ask in alarm as he moves around the couch.

“Going to find out
what the hell is going on.”

I vehemently shake my
head and grab his arm. “No, you can’t.”

“I can’t? You’re
telling me my unstable friend has some kind of obsessive relationship with a
piece of furniture, and I shouldn’t go try to find out why?”

I nod. “Yes, that’s
exactly what I’m telling you. It’s not just a chair. It’s something else, and
he’s not ready. If you barge in there now and attack him, you’re going to undo
everything we’ve done!”

Casey throws his hands
up in frustration before locking his fingers above his head. He begins pacing
in front of the couch, muttering to himself, and I know I have to intervene for
his own sake. He deserves better as well. I take his arm and pull him back to
the couch.

“Please, Casey. I’m
asking you to let it go. Not forever, just for now, ok? Let him have this. I’m
telling you, he needs this. Can you just trust me?”

He meets my gaze, he
has to, I’ve centered it inches away, and finally lets out an aggravated
breath. “This is crazy. I mean, he’s always been odd, but a chair?”

“I don’t know what the
chair means, but I know it’s significant. He’ll let us in when he’s ready.”

“And until then?”

“Until then, we keep
fighting for the small stuff.”

I sense his concern finally
dissolving into amusement.

“What?” I ask,
suddenly self-conscious.

He smiles and shakes
his head. “Nothing. Just you.”

“Me? What about me?”

“You’re like a cross
between a motivational poster and a shrink... And my mom.”

Now, I have to laugh.
“Your mom? Really? You made out with me…twice…and I remind you of your mom?”

He ducks from my
playful swing with a sheepish grin. “I don’t know! You’re always yelling at
me!”

“Ha! I do not!”

“I don’t eat enough
vegetables. You don’t like my clothes. I’m too mean to Luke…”

I roll my eyes, but
can’t come close to being annoyed at him with the look on his face. Instead, I
lean against him and take his hand. He quiets as I trace his fingers and
concentrate on the steady rise and fall of his chest.

“You’re thinking about
my mom now, aren’t you?” he asks with a knowing grin, and I shrug.

“Maybe. What’s she
like?”

He laughs. “She had
ten kids. Some say that makes her a saint, others say she’s insane.”

“What do you say?”

“Probably somewhere in
between.”

“Do you get to see
your family a lot?”

I sense his mood shift
and wonder why.

“Some of my siblings. There
are two in particular I’m close to.”

I glance up at him and
note his distant expression.

“What about your
parents?”

He shakes his head.
“No. Not really. She won’t see me unless I see him and that’s not happening.”

It’s then that I
remember “Argyle” and almost cringe.

“I’m sorry,” I say
quietly. “My parents are no picnic either.”

“Yeah? What are they
like?”

I grunt and stare at
the ceiling, settling into him. “Well, I haven’t seen my mom since I was
twelve. She met some guy at the bowling alley…yeah, I know.”

“I’m sorry, I know
it’s not funny,” Casey snickers. “But come on…”

“Total small town
cliché, I know. But yeah, she took off, and we never heard from her. Dad…well…I
don’t know. We functioned, I guess.”

“Functioned?”

I shrug. “We kind of
just stayed out of each other’s way until I was old enough to make my own
decisions for my life.”

“Which were what?”

“What do you mean? My
decisions?”

“Yeah. What are you
now that you can choose?”

I swallow and realize
I’m clenching my other fist. I think he might notice when he takes that hand,
too, and kisses my fingers. It’s so sweet it almost hurts, and I want to answer
his question. I just don’t know how. What am I? I have no idea.

“I don’t know, really.
I couldn’t wait to get out of Shelteron, and then when the opportunity came, I
had no idea where to go or what to do. I’ve kind of just been floating,
sometimes treading. Not really sure where to go or what I want. Just avoiding
the things I don’t want.”

“Ok, but you must be
doing something to survive here on your own.”

I shake my head, not
sure he’s ready for this part. No, I’m not sure I’m ready for this part. I take
a deep breath.

“I’m living off money
from a lawsuit settlement.”

I have his attention
and I’m not sure what to do with it. I think I might care about him too much to
finish the story.

“Really? What
happened?” he asks, as I knew he would. Only Luke doesn’t ask the obvious
questions.

I look away, and he
must notice me tense, but he doesn’t let me off the hook. He’s not nosy, he
cares, and I draw in a deep breath.

“When I was seventeen
I got a job at a large, independent grocery store. The owner took an interest
in me and a couple of the other girls.”

I quiet, not sure I
can actually tell this story. I never really tried. It didn’t seem relevant or
necessary until this moment, until this person. Casey squeezes my hand as if
sensing my hesitation.