Isn't She Lovely (Redemption 0.5)(52)

But she wanted me to go. She was too weak to push the issue, but my dad wasn’t. He told me it was important to my mother to see me happy. To see me living my life, even as hers was ending.

So I went. But I was mad, and sad, and lost. I had more drinks than I should have, but not so many that I didn’t realize the last rum and Coke tasted faintly bitter. I set the cup aside almost immediately, but it was too late. The dizziness followed soon after, and in those last lucid moments I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I just wanted to lie down somewhere. Anywhere.

My eyes found Caleb, and I knew. Knew that he knew what was in my cup.

I woke up in Caleb’s bed, barely managing to get my head over the side of the bed before throwing up all over his white carpet.

I retched again and again as I tried to clear the cobwebs and piece together what had happened. Why I was naked. Why I was so hung over after a few drinks.

Caleb came in then. I expected him to lose his shit over the fact that I’d thrown up on his bed, on his floor, but he didn’t seem to see it.

Then I saw a phone in his hand.

My phone.

I raised my eyes to his face, and I knew. Knew that he’d answered my phone.

Knew that it was my dad calling.

Knew that my mother was dead.

And then I retched again.

It was the first time I’d talked about it. Ever. I’d never told anyone what happened. I mean, of course I was a zombie after it happened, and of course everyone noticed. I’d just lost my mother. I was entitled to be a zombie. Nobody suspected that there was anything else to it. That I’d lost more than Mom that night.

Well, Caleb knew.

It may sound odd, but I’d never really considered Caleb in all of this. On some level I suppose I hated him, but on another it was like he wasn’t even a person. He was just this demon in my past that had sort of been absorbed into the bad memory that was that night.

But Ethan wasn’t inclined to let Caleb off that easily.

After I told him the entire sick story, I expected him to give me a condescending hug and then tell me that it sucked and that it was time to move on.

And he did give me a hug, but I didn’t expect the next words out of his mouth.

You’ve got to find Caleb, Stephanie. Confront him. Get answers. You deserve answers.

I guess it’s weird that I needed someone else to tell me this, to point out that the worst night of my life doesn’t have to be shrouded in mystery.

Of course, there’s no guarantee that Caleb will remember, or that he’ll be honest with me. But deep down I suspect that he will. We cared about each other once. And I’m pretty sure that at one time he even loved me, before he heeded the siren call of booze and drugs.

It took all of thirty seconds on the Internet to find him. He’s at Boston University, which I knew, of course. He sent me about a dozen messages our freshman year asking if we could talk, all of which I ignored. And he tried to get in touch through Jordan and the handful of other high school friends I kept in contact with. I ignored those efforts too.

But this is the first time I’ve sought him out. I was expecting a rush of anger, but mostly I just feel curious. Jordan told me he’s clean now. That he’s reverted back to the “nice guy” he was before the Jack Daniel’s and pills and shit took over his life.

If his online profile pictures are any indication, Jordan is right. Gone are the red-rimmed eyes and bloated face I remember from the end. Instead he’s clean-cut and handsome. Not unlike Ethan, actually—blond, blue-eyed, and totally preppy.

I don’t know how long I stared at his smiling face, waiting to feel some sort of emotion. Mostly I felt relief. And a hope that maybe Ethan is right, that I can move on.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Ethan asks, yanking me out of memories.

I give a little smile and shake my head. “I think I’m all talked out on that topic, you know?”

He searches my face. “But when he writes back, you’ll tell me.”

I meet his eyes. “I’ll tell you.”

I don’t have a choice. Not if I want Ethan to touch me. Because he made it very clear that night when he gently set me away from him and slowly pulled his own T-shirt over my head to cover me that he won’t touch me again until I have closure.

You deserve more, Stephanie. You deserve everything.

And in that moment, whatever I was feeling for this all-wrong-guy exploded into something I absolutely, positively do not want to name. Can’t name.

Because a few days from now I’ll have fulfilled my end of the bargain. Ethan will have survived this stupid party and can move on with his life. Maybe get a real girlfriend instead of an impostor.

My stomach clenches at the thought.

“Okay, Goth, one more time. Why is your entire wardrobe on your bed? I did mention that this is just a two-night thing, right?”

I swat at his hip until he shifts and I can pull a couple of now smashed bras out from under his ass. He doesn’t look twice. I can’t blame him, I guess. I mean, they’re some boring blue cotton affairs. But it’s another reminder that he hasn’t made a single romantic move since that night on his couch.

I know why, of course.

But it doesn’t mean I have to like it.

Damn Caleb.

And damn myself for being such a chicken for the past three years that I didn’t seek answers. Hell, worse than that, I actually avoided them. I was like those weird birds that stick their head in the sand.