Page 78 of Caleb
Or maybe I can, but I don’t want to. The more I try to find a logical explanation for my current distress, the less I find something to hold on to that will help explain the mess inside me. So all I do is keep going. Keep running on the Parisian ground that holds so many memories I’ll forever cherish with her. Memories I keep dodging as I masochistically stick to the route.
Ourroute.
After losing myself in the run for an undetermined amount of time, I head back to the Residence. I’m not wearing a watch, nor did I bring my phone. I knew Aaron would be calling me nonstop if I did, and I wouldn’t have been able to deal with him on top of everything that’s already saturating my mind. I don’t want to talk, interact, or breathe around another human right now.
All I’m hoping is for Thomas to have left when I return.
And apparently, he has. The parking lot is practically empty when I walk through the pedestrian access gate. But I won’t be able to sleep until I get confirmation.
“Has Senator Hill and his family left?” I ask Agent Wilson, who was posted at the entrance when we brought Red back from the bar. He’s the one who validated Thomas’s ID.
“They have,” he says curtly. “Everyone’s gone.”
“Thanks, man.” I slap his shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Aaron’s been looking for you,” he says to my back. I turn around. “You’ve been gone for almost three hours. He thought it was odd that you hadn’t returned. He even took the car out and went looking for you.”
Three hours.
It’s still dark out, so it’s hard to have a precise time indicator just by looking at the sky. And I didn’t spend all my time running. I took a few breaks here and there. At the Basin Octagonal, at the Louvre, and at the Pont des Arts, which Red loves.
Swiping the sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand, I nod and thank Wilson.
I’m parched.
Taking a deep breath and hoping Aaron’s asleep, I head toward the common room for a glass of water or two. But I should know better than to expect good things for me tonight because Aaron’s sitting in a sofa chair in the dark, the light of a dim lamp on the side table illuminating the area around him.
“I was worried sick.” He stands and walks toward me.
Here we go.
He’s wearing his black slacks, but his jacket is gone, and the top buttons of his white shirt are undone. This is the most disheveled state I’ve seen him in since I started working here. He’s always so meticulous about his appearance, no matter the occasion.
“I told you I was going out for a run,” I say, filling my glass with water. “So I don’t get why you’d be worried.” I drink deep and pretend he’s not standing behind me, waiting for me to engage with him in a face-to-face conversation. Scratch that. Discussion.
“You were gone for three fucking hours, Caleb!” he finally snaps. “And I know the condition in which you left. You were pissed off beyond reason and about to rip someone’s head off.”
I set the empty glass on the counter with a sigh and pour myself another. I can’t do this right now. I really can’t. “I’m fine now.” I lift my glass and walk away.
I’m not fine. If anything, I returned with my feelings heightened from having ignored them for the past three hours.
Aaron follows me up to my room in silence. Dense, eerie silence. I even glance over my shoulder a few times to double-check if he’s still pursuing me, and that’s when I realize that I can’t hear his footsteps because he’s barefoot. All very much unlike him.
He must’ve been genuinely distraught with my disappearance.
I open my door, finding I left it unlocked when I fled earlier, and he steps in without even making an effort to ask if I don’t mind it. We’re past the point of pretending like my behavior isn’t irrational. I get it. It is, and all I can do is try to listen to whatever he has to say and bite my tongue if I feel the need to reply to any of it.
Just let him talk, and he’ll be gone faster.
And you’ll be able to take a shower and a shot of vodka.
I know I fucking deserve both. I’m not looking to get drunk, though. I’m not stupid enough to show up for work with an alcoholic breath in a few hours. I promised Red I would stop drinking, and I will keep to that promise to the best of my capacity. But I desperately need to take the edge off that running couldn’t do for me in the way only alcohol can.
Vodka is a solid backup plan.
Remembering that Thomas is gone and Red’s sleeping safe and sound in her bed gives me a momentary and simulated sense of ease. I am yet to find out if that guy keeps wooing her or not after tonight. And now I’ll be in constant communication with Aaron from thousands of miles away for updates.
Sitting on the floor with my back against my bed, I pull off my cap and tennis shoes and drop my head between my knees, waiting for Aaron’s blow.
