Джей Эшер - What Light

I hear the breath rush out of Caleb. I look over and see him watching me.

“The door used to be painted red,” he says. “My mom tried to sand it down and paint over them so they’re less obvious, but… there they are.”

What happened that night now feels so real. Now I know he ran from the kitchen and up a flight of stairs. His sister cried behind this door while Caleb stood right here, striking it over and over with the blade of a knife. Caleb—gentler than anyone I’ve met—went after Abby with a knife. And he did it while his best friend watched. I can’t merge that version of him with the one watching me right now. From the doorway of his room, his expression is locked somewhere between worry and shame. I want to tell him that I’m not freaked out, to hold on to him and reassure him. But I can’t.

His mom calls from below, “You two ready to eat?”

Our eyes don’t leave each other. The door of his room is open, but I won’t be stepping inside there. Not right now. Now, we need to get back to normal, or as close as we can, for his mom and Abby. He walks by me, letting his fingers graze my hand, but he doesn’t take it. I take one more look at his sister’s door and then follow him down the stairs.

Colorful ceramic plates hang on the kitchen walls. A small table in the center of the floor is set for the four of us. While our kitchen back home is bigger than theirs, this feels cozier.

“The table isn’t usually in the middle of the floor,” his mom says, standing beside her chair, “but there aren’t usually so many of us.”

“Your kitchen’s way more spacious than the trailer where I’m living.” I stretch out my arms. “I’d be in the bathroom and the microwave if I did this.”

His mom laughs and then walks to the stove. When she opens the oven door, the room fills with the delicious smell of melted cheese, tomato sauce, and garlic.

Caleb holds out a chair for me and I thank him while I sit. He slides into the chair to my right, but then jumps up and pulls out the chair for his sister, too. Abby laughs and swats him, and I can tell from the easy way she is around him that she really has let go of their past.

Caleb’s mom brings a pan of lasagna to the table and places it in the middle. When she sits, she sets a napkin on her lap. “We do family-style, Sierra. Go ahead and serve yourself first.”

Caleb reaches for the spatula. “I got this.” He dishes me out a massive chunk of lasagna, oozing cheese, and then he does the same for Abby and his mom.

“You forgot yourself,” I say.

Caleb looks at his empty plate and then cuts a piece for himself. Abby puts an elbow on the table, covering a smile while she watches her brother.

“So you’re a freshman?” I say. “How do you like high school so far?”

“She’s doing great,” Caleb says. “I mean, you are, right?”

I tilt my head and look at him. Maybe he feels a need to prove everything’s fine after our moment at the door upstairs.

Abby shakes her head at him. “Yes, dear brother, I’m doing fantastic. I’m happy and it’s a good school.”

I turn to her and smile. “Is Caleb a bit overprotective?”

She rolls her eyes. “He’s like the happiness police, always calling to make sure my life’s going well.”

“Abby,” Caleb’s mom says, “let’s have a nice dinner, okay?”

“That’s what I was trying to do,” Abby says.

Caleb’s mom looks at me, but her smile looks anxious. She turns to Abby. “I don’t think we need to bring up certain things when there are guests.”

Caleb puts his hand on mine. “Mom, she was just answering a question.”

I give Caleb’s hand a squeeze and then look over at Abby. Her eyes are lowered.

After a good minute of eating in silence, his mom starts asking questions about what it’s like to live on a Christmas tree farm. Abby is in awe of how much land we own when I try to describe what it looks like. I almost tell her she should come visit, but I’m sure either answer would lead to more awkward silence. The whole family looks shocked when I tell them about Uncle Bruce’s helicopter and how I hook trees to it while it’s flying.

Caleb’s mom looks between him and Abby. “I cannot imagine letting either of you do that.”

Caleb finally appears to be relaxing. We share stories about the trees we’ve delivered together, and he tells about some he did on his own. Whenever Caleb speaks, I notice his mom looks at Abby. Does she wonder, while Abby listens to the stories, what it would be like for them to still grow up together? When I tell them it was my idea to bring the families homemade cookies, I catch Caleb’s mom winking at him and my heart speeds up a little. When we’re done eating, no one makes a move to leave the table.

But then Abby talks about getting a tree with her dad. Their mom goes around collecting plates, and Abby starts talking directly to me. I hold her gaze, but I can see Caleb looking down at his hands on the table while his mom puts things in the dishwasher.

Their mom stays away from the table until Abby’s story is done. She then brings over a plate full of Rice Krispies treats with baked-in red and green sprinkles. Abby asks me if it’s hard to be away from home and all my friends for an entire month every year. We all grab a treat and I consider her question.

“I do miss my friends,” I say, “but it’s been like this since I was born. I guess when you’ve grown up one way, it’s hard to miss how things could be different, you know?”

“Unfortunately,” Caleb says, “in Abby’s case, we know how things could be different.”

I hold on to his arm. “That is not what I meant.”

Caleb sets down his dessert. “You know what, I’m exhausted.” He looks at me, a flash of pain in his eyes. “We shouldn’t make your parents worry.”

It’s like a bucket of ice water drops over me.

Caleb stands up, avoiding everyone’s eyes, and then pushes in his chair. I numbly stand up from mine. I thank his mom and Abby for the nice dinner, and his mom looks down at her plate. Abby shakes her head at Caleb, but no words need to be said. He walks toward the front door and I follow.

We walk out into the cool night. Halfway to his truck, I grab Caleb’s arm and stop him. “I was having a nice time in there.”

He won’t look me in the eyes. “I saw where things were going.”

I want him to look at me, but he can’t. He stands there, eyes closed, rubbing his hand through his hair. Then he walks to his truck and lets himself in. I get in on my side and shut the door. He has the key in the ignition but hasn’t turned it yet, his gaze locked on the steering wheel.

“It feels like everything’s okay with Abby,” I say. “Your mom misses her, obviously, but the person who seemed the most uncomfortable in there was you.”

He starts the truck. “Abby’s forgiven me, and that helps. But I cannot forgive myself for everything I took from my mom. That was lost because of me, which is hard to forget with Abby sitting right there and you talking about home.”

He puts his truck in drive, turns us in the opposite direction, and we both stay silent the entire way to the lot. The lot is still open as we pull into the parking area. I see several customers browsing and Dad carrying a newly flocked tree to the Bigtop. If this night had gone like I had hoped, we would be returning with this place closed for the night. We would sit in his truck, parked, and talk about what a beautiful evening this was, and maybe then we would finally kiss.

Instead, he pulls into a dimly lit spot of the parking area and I let myself out. Caleb stays in the driver’s seat, his hands not leaving the wheel. I stand outside my open door, staring at him.

He still can’t face me. “I’m sorry, Sierra. You don’t deserve this. When I see you here, we’ve got Andrew. And you saw what my house is like. We can’t even go to a grocery store without drama. That’s not going to change in the time we have left.”