Page 13 of Awestruck at Dusk
TODAY WAS AN OFF DAY—one of those heart-wrenching, nauseating days.
I was moving back to my apartment. I’d been looking forward to it, or so I thought, right until the moment I packed my bags and headed back there.
My feet had a mind of their own. They fidgeted and shook uncontrollably as Aaron and Amena drove me there because I was going into this alone. Do I even have to explain why my father couldn’t offer to come with me? No. I thought Nathan would though, but he’d already missed a few days from work here and there to be with me when I needed him. It felt selfish of me to ask for another half day’s worth of his time to walk me back to my place. I mean, Aaron was with me. He would have to be enough.
Living in my father’s place right after Caleb’s death granted me a temporary escape since everything about my home inevitably reminded me of him.
I’d been skyping with my therapist from Norway. She held my hand through the process of grieving my mother’s death. She knew me, knew my past. It was easier to keep talking to her than finding a different therapist in New York and going back to square one. I didn’t have time for that. I needed to figure out all my feelings—the quicker, the better.
She suggested I start a journal and scribble about my thoughts in a random way. No dates. Just write on the first blank page without any order. And I’d been doing just that. I bought a Moleskine notebook and carried it with me all the time.
I took the small notepad out of my bag and grabbed a pen that I could barely hold in between my fingers. The freaking cast was in the way. My writing was almost illegible, which turned out to be very convenient.
Who’s going to walk me up to my apartment every day?
Talk to me about the hard things?
Ask about my real feelings or confront me about them?
Who’s going to console me without saying a word?
And make me feel safe just thinking his name?
Who’s going to put me first ALWAYS, no matter what?
Care as much as he did?
I let out a sharp breath through my mouth and shut my notebook. I tucked it back in my bag and looked out the car’s window.
I knew I had Nathan. Even if I was still trying to figure out the meaning and extent of what having him meant. But Caleb’s unconditional presence filled a space that I’d crafted just for him, and the emptiness threatened to devour my soul completely. And I was in no shape to decipher the hidden desires of my heart, which began manifesting against me in the past few weeks.
However, I was still hanging on to Caleb’s letter and avoiding reading it altogether because I didn’t know what awaited me once I read it or how it would make me feel.
Maybe if I stalled for an undetermined amount of time to feel stronger about not having him would be enough to give me the courage to read it because, in a way, it would be like talking to him.
Mylastconversation with Caleb.
And as long as I kept his letter unread, I would still have an opportunity to listen to him one last time. And yes, I could read it several times, but the first time you read a letter carries a weight—a certain magic. That feeling of not knowing what word comes next, what thought, what emotion will surface. It’s too special.
So not yet.
I was clinging to my last chance until I felt not only stronger but deserving too. I’d been burying the feelings of guilt deep into a dark little corner of my soul. And it was slowly consuming me without my knowledge.
At least I’d have a place to hide from the world on my birthday—which was only four days away. It was easier to cave myself in my apartment than in my father’s place. Although he was never around, anyway.
But there’s no place like home. And mine was 485 Park—a wiped-out crime scene that was very much imprinted in my mind.
Aaron parked on the curbside. I took a deep breath and stepped out of the car when Amena opened the door for me.
Nathan promised to stop by after work. And as I walked into the lobby and was greeted by Senad, Bruce, and a new door guard with big smiles, I hoped he would. Soon. Because the memories of the incident were stampeding in my direction with my brain as their aim. And as much as I hated to admit, I wasn’t strong enough to deal with all of this on my own.
The elevator required a keycard now to gain access, and I spotted at least four new surveillance cameras in the lobby.
Aaron and Amena helped carry my things, which consisted of a couple of suitcases with my clothes and a backpack.
“This is your new set of keys,” Aaron said, handing them over as the elevator went up to the ninth floor. “All the locks have been changed, including the one on the service door. I’ll hang on to a copy of these, just in case.”
“Thank you,” I said with a tight smile, looking at Caleb’s Statue of Liberty keychain in my hands. It had found a new home, right beside the Eiffel tower keychain he gave me.
