Page 7 of Caleb
— “And my parents agreed to this?”
— “Once I told them about the job and the pay, they practically begged me to convince you. They feel like the change of scenery will serve you right. And I agree.”
— “When would you need me to start?”
— “Well, right away. We arrived in Paris a couple of months ago, and Miss Murphy is back in school. She’d been studying with a tutor while we were in Norway. So my boss has been increasingly apprehensive about her security since we arrived. There’s another agent tagging along with me, but Ambassador Murphy just got the idea about bringing in someone I trust for the job a few weeks ago, and he’s been insisting I find someone quickly.”
Silence.
Shit, I wasn’t expecting this. It’s not like I can give him an answer right now. I need to think about it.
This changes everything.
— “So, how’s your French?”
— “Like shit.”
— “Perfect. You’ll be speaking English at work, and I know you’re fluent.”
More silence.
— “Caleb, this is a great opportunity. And from what I can tell, you don’t seem too convinced about going back to the military. You’ll love Paris. Trust me.”
— “When do you need an answer?”
— “Yesterday.”
— “Come on, Aaron, give me a fucking break.”
— “I’ll give you the rest of the week to think about it. And before you ask, yes, you would have to wear a suit all day.”
— “I imagined so. I’ll get back to you.”
— “Take care, man. Tell Levi and Tamar I said hi.”
— “You too. I will. Talk to you soon.”
Paris. A fifteen-year-old girl. Fancy suits. Goddamn it. I can’t make myself think about this right now. All I need is a hot shower.
As I walk toward house six, Tamar texts back that my room is unlocked, and she left the new key inside. Perfect.
My new room looks exactly the same as the old one. The only noticeable difference is the view. This one is much, much better. I can see the lake, and it’s so peaceful and beautiful.
After peeling my sweaty clothes off my body, I step into the shower. Aaron’s proposal is the only thing I can think of as the scorching water washes the long day from my shoulders. The idea of accepting the job offer is growing on me. To set fire to my past and start anew. In motherfucking Paris, for crying out loud! I’d be stupid not to take this opportunity. What’s the worst thing that can happen? If I hate it, I can always quit and come back home. It’s not like it’s a death sentence.
I need to relax.
My thoughts drift to Noa. To her face. Her body. Would I miss her? I’d hate to think that I would. But I’d also be doing her a favor in leaving.
Stepping out of the shower, I can’t help but keep thinking about Noa. We’re not exclusive, but I’m sure she’s not seeing anyone else.Sleepingwith anyone else. I’m not. It’s only been her for the past few months since I started volunteering here.
I’ve been trying not to overthink what happened earlier at the restaurant. It hurts to admit, but pure, unadulterated jealousy was what led me to follow that man to the parking lot and make him eat my fist. I blame it on my protective instincts kicking in. But I’ve also got some serious unresolved issues about the Hanukkah attack, and I recognize that I haven’t dealt with it properly. But hey, at least I’m self-aware. It’s just that I don’t know how one even starts to deal with something like that. The loss. The grief. The shame. The anger.
They said the time off would help. I’d like to think so too, but all I’ve done so far is drink and fuck the pain away. And the pain is still alive, feeding on my guts.
Lost in my thoughts, I wipe the condensed mirror with my hand and stare back at my reflection. My cheeks puff as I let out a breath.
Bracing the palms of my hands against the sink, I lower my head, and a sob escapes my throat. I allow it for a few seconds but quickly reel it all in and swallow the ocean of feelings back to a dreary corner of my chest. I can’t go there. I fear I won’t be able to pull myself back from the darkness if I allow myself a moment of vulnerability.
