Page 26 of Holiday Star
Most people have moved on, already heading over to Sanderson’s place for the post-caroling party. I pause, trapped between two choices. Stay or go.
It comes to me then, that flash of emotion on Caleb’s face when he finished singing, right before he was recognized. I can name it now. That was the look of hope. A quick goodnight to Jenny and I run after him.
15
Caleb’s almost at the house when I catch up. Wordlessly, he climbs the stairs to the front door, unwinding my scarf with each step.
Once we’re inside, he goes to the refrigerator, takes out a beer, and holds it in his hand, staring dully at it. He must change his mind because he puts the drink back into the fridge and swings the door shut with a thump.
Caleb crosses to the couch where he flops down on his back with a loud sigh and closes his eyes, revealing delicate blue veins across each eyelid.
My gaze follows the length of his lashes, the line of his jaw, the bob of his Adam’s apple, and something small stirs in my chest.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “That wasn’t how I wanted it to go.”
He keeps his eyes closed. “Don’t be sorry. There’s nothing to be sorry for.” His voice carries a deep note of exhaustion. One that he kept hidden when he was smiling and flashing cheesy peace signs for all those photographs.
He’s so silent and still that I wonder for a minute if he’s fallen asleep, but then I notice his fingers twitching, lightly rubbing the yarn of my scarf between his thumb and index finger. He’s upset, and I don’t like how he’s hiding it from me. I also don’t like how much it bothers me to see him unhappy.
An idea forms. “Wait right there,” I tell Caleb, an unnecessary statement since it seems like he plans to never leave the couch again. I run from the room and bound up the stairs toward the master bedroom, giving a sharp whistle as I go.
Pip responds to her call immediately, trotting over with her tongue lolling. I pick her up, my hand under her soft belly, and hold her against my chest. Whispering into her bat-like ear, “Come on, girl. You’ve got work to do.”
Caleb’s unchanged since I left him, lying there with his eyes clamped down tight. I walk over and unceremoniously dump Pip into his lap. When her sharp little feet hit him, he rockets up into a sitting position with a yelp. He scuttles backward as Pip sways, trying to keep her balance and not fall off.
With a look of horror, he stares down at the tiny dog and then up at me. “Gwen! What the fuck?”
That’s the third time he’s said my name and the first time he’s cussed at me.
I rise to my full height of 5 ft. 2 in. “Caleb, this is Pip,” I tell him calmly. Then I address the dog, speaking to her the same way I spoke to him. “Pip, this is Caleb.”
Caleb snorts in disgust. His eyes roll as he squirms, trying to dislodge her, but Pip holds on like a trooper, scrabbling her feet around for purchase.
“Caleb,” I say more firmly, using a tone I learned from my tenth-grade trigonometry teacher. “You need to calm down. You’re scaring her.”
“I’mscaringher?” he exclaims loudly. “What about me?”
“Look at her. She’s way more nervous than you are.” I point to the dog, who’s trembling, her tail tucked between her legs. Pip hates the sound of raised voices. She’s a wimp that way. She’s the one who taught us all to fight nicely in my family. When my brothers and I were kids, we learned not to shout in anger, not wanting to scare poor Pip.
Caleb pauses long enough to take in Pip’s obvious terror. His movements slow and then still. Eyeing Pip, his lips pucker with disgust. “Ugh. She’s a rat with fur.” His beautiful blue eyes shoot up to me. “Why are you torturing me like this?”
“You’re upset. Whenever something is bothering me, I cuddle with Pip, and it makes me feel better. I thought it might help you, too. You need to deal with your feelings.”
“I was dealing. I was laying here quietly until you dumped this…,” He looks down at Pip like he’s at a loss for words. “This…thing on me.”
“Shutting down isn’t the same as dealing.” I know it probably isn’t my place to give advice, but it was my idea to go caroling and I feel guilty about how things turned out. I’m not good at walking away when someone is in pain. I want to soothe, to heal. It’s a trait that drew me to medicine.
“What are you now? My therapist or something? I already have one of those.” He lashes out, full of spite.
“Mm-hmm,” I murmur, unmoved by his tantrum. “And what does your therapist say, exactly?”
I think back tomytherapist. The one Mom dragged me to after Dad died, who always lectured me about shutting down. How she told me I needed to do a better job at processing my feelings. I tried to do what she asked, but I never really knew how. How to let my dad go without also feeling like I was letting my love for him fade.
There’s a strained silence, then Caleb’s breath gusts out and his shoulders slump. “She says I have a lot to work on…and that I need to stop blocking things out.”
Pip must sense his surrender, because she circles twice and lays down on him, curling herself into a ball.
Satisfied that he’s over his freakout, I sit on the edge of the couch down by his feet. “Why are you frightened of her, anyway? Pip’s not going to hurt you.”
