Readjustment (Restitution #2)

16

Caleb Straus

I shouldn’t have opened the door.

I’d been so close to calling G. The phone hadn’t even timed out on the coffee table when I made the rash decision to open the door for Adam. But he deserved to see this. He should witness the carnage, the destruction he caused. How the pain he inflicts on himself is contagious. He doesn’t stop until he destroys every good thing around him.

I drank the whiskey until my throat protested. How did I ever enjoy this stuff? Anything to numb the pain.

Adam hovered in the doorway, scrubbing the back of his neck. He didn’t blink as he took two uneasy steps forward.

I slammed the door and motioned towards the couch. “Have a seat. Make yourself at home.”

He slowly lowered himself onto the couch and laid his hands on his lap. The lines on his forehead deepened when I sat down on the loveseat and took another sip from the bottle, meeting his intense stare. His eyes were red and puffy. Had he been crying?

“Caleb? What’re you doing?” Adam’s voice was thick with concern.

I cradled the bottle and thumbed over the black and white label. The lights of the Christmas tree by the balcony door reflected off the glass.

“Caleb?”

“Giving up.” I lifted the bottle as a toast. His lips pursed, but I cut him off. “Seems to work for you.”

“I’m really sor—”

“No!” I shouted. “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry, Adam! I don’t wanna hear it. I don’t fucking believe it. So save your goddamn breath!”

Adam’s head jerked back, and he gripped his knees hard enough to see the white indents around his knuckles.

My chest was about to implode, and I wasn’t sure if it was from the booze or the tornado of emotions. Even after all he’d done, the things he’d said, and seeing him with Josh, I needed to find more hate to stop the hurt. Something to destroy the last shred of whatever existed between us. It had to be now, while I was strong enough to see it through.

“God, I should’ve believed you when you said you’re not a good person.” I wiped the spittle from my lips with my palm. “You’re fucking toxic.”

“You’re right.”

My voice was strange, foreign, even to me. “I asked for something besides words from you and what’d you do? Fucking ran right back into Josh’s arms—and don’t you fucking dare act like what I saw wasn’t what it looked like. Your dick was still hard!”

Green joined the red splotches on his cheeks, and for a second I thought he might puke, but I honestly didn’t care.

“It was all a lie.” My voice croaked, and I hated that more than I hated him. “It was a lie. You didn’t want to deal with the life you created for yourself, and you used me like another drug to forget it. I was just a human fuck toy. After all the things I’ve told you…that you’ve told me , you ran right back to rich hubby the second I called you out. Like the last month meant nothing.”

“That’s not tr—”

“Shut up!” I sprang to my feet and raked a hand through my hair. “I’m done listening to your bullshit!”

“What do you want me to do?” Adam peered up at me with desperation in his eyes. “I’ll do anything.” His pain was like carbon monoxide, filling every empty space in him until it was impossible to breathe. “Please, just…anything.”

“Tell me I’m an idiot.” I started pacing the room. “Tell me I’m a hypocrite. Yeah. That one hurt—whoa.” The floor seemed off kilter. I wobbled to my right but managed to keep my balance. “Tell me I’m weak. That I’m stuck in the past.”

“I was wrong.” Adam stood up and shook his head. “Caleb…I was so fucking wrong and I’m—”

“You and everyone else can fuck off!” I stifled a sob. “The job I love is a cesspool. How could I be so stupid to believe everyone takes this job to protect people? How can I trust anyone again?”

Adam started to speak again, but when I glared daggers at him, he stopped.

“My first love is dead. I let my grief and guilt ruin my life, and my community hates me for it. And just when I thought I found someone who gave my pain purpose; someone that understood me. He fucking broke my heart, too.” I pulled the bottle to my lips and didn’t break eye contact with Adam as I sipped it until the sticky liquid ran down my chin. “I just wanted my fucking happy ending.”

“Caleb, please…” Adam stood up.

When I turned around, the world spun, and I staggered forward. I tried to right myself but crashed into the Christmas tree and the bristly branched bit into my side as I fell. Something cracked under my weight. I struggled to my hands and knees and lifted my arm to see blood pooling under my shirt sleeve. On the floor beside me, the baseball ornament Ethan gave me was in pieces. Everything in my belly locked up. I couldn’t breathe. All the work I’d done to put it back together, to put myself back together, was in pieces. It was all I had left of Ethan, and I ruined it the way I ruined everything.

“Caleb…” I tore my gaze away to find Adam offering a hand. “Are you—shit, you’re bleeding.”

“No!” I knocked his hand away as I got to my feet and cradled my arm.

“Let’s get you—”

“Don’t fucking touch me!” I staggered to the bathroom. After sliding the deadbolt, I turned around and vomited into the sink.

The veins in my neck strained as I heaved, and when it finally let up, I was too dizzy to stand on my own. I gripped the edges of the vanity and stared through the stars in my vision at my reflection. The mussed hair, red cheeks, broken blood vessels in my eyes. It was a familiar sight. It was the same lost college boy that used booze to solve my problems that all stemmed from kissing stupid boys. I’d kissed Ethan, and now he was dead. I’d kissed Adam and now I wished I was dead.

I dropped to the floor, slumped against the cabinet doors, and sobbed. I cried so hard I had to vomit again, then cried some more until I was nothing but a limp wet rag.

There was a timid knock. “Are you okay?” Adam said. “Do you need—”

“Leave me alone!” I kicked the door.

“I’m sorry,” Adam sounded like he was barely holding it together. “I’m really, really sorry.”

“I hate you.” I rasped. “I really hate you, Adam.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I hate me too.”

I tried to count the tiles in the shower, but couldn’t focus. The tears felt like they were never going to stop. I was going to die of a broken heart on the bathroom floor. I fell to my side, laid my cheek on the cool laminate, and passed out until raised voices pulled me back from my slumber. How can this get any worse? Outside the door, the voices got louder. One pleading, contrite. The other was angry and distinctly Hispanic.

That’s how.

I crawled to the door and pressed my ear against it. I had to clench my eyes, so I didn’t puke again. G yelled something in Spanish that might’ve been a death threat, followed by the vibration of the door slamming.

“ Mijo ?” G’s voice got closer.

“Is he gone?”

“Yes.” Her nails tapped the wood slab. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m…” I sat up and rubbed the side of my head. The bleeding in my arm had stopped, but the sting of the pain was still fresh. With one hand on the doorknob and the other on the sink, I got to my feet. “Maybe? No?”

“Are you sick?” she asked.

“I think I threw most of it up.” I splashed water on my face, used the hand towel to dab up what I could on my shirt, but in the end decided to strip it.

“Are you ready to come out?” She jiggled the handle gently. “Need a hand?”

“Hang on. I’ll uh…come out.” I looked at the mess and tears flooded my eyes. Vomit splattered the vanity and mirror, but I only had the strength to clean myself. I flushed the toilet and threw a towel over the mess to muffle the worst of the stench. “Don’t…don’t look in here. It’s a crime scene.”

“That doesn’t matter. Just come out and talk to me.” G’s footsteps shuffled down the hall.

After a few seconds, I gathered my bearings and opened the door. In the living room, G held two bottles of Propel. Her hair was up in a messy bun that highlighted the grey strands at her temples. A purple sleep gown hung down to her knees over a pair of black leggings that were capped off by brown moccasins.

The taxed muscles in my core from throwing up made every step hurt. My pulse thumped in my throat and my cheeks burned with embarrassment as I sat down. I wrapped my arms around myself to keep from falling apart like a Mr. Potato Head. “I’m…I’m s-s…”

“Not yet.” G pointed to the couch. “Sit first.”

I sat down and drew my knees up as a wave of shivers shook me from head to toe. An imposing silence filled the space between us. Even the building was still. No footsteps in the unit above us. No children running down the hall and dragging toys off the wall. No doors closing. If there was any traffic outside, the snow muffled the noise.

G pulled down a blanket from the closet, wrapped it around my shoulders, and tilted the bottle of Propel to my lips until I could hold it myself. Deep worry lines etched across her forehead. Her gaze was soft, but focused with compassion.

“How’d you…” I cleared my throat. “How’d you know?”

“Adam called me,” she said softly. “He was still here when I came in.”

“Did you kill him?”

“No.” G shook her head. “But Lord, I wanted to.”

A tremulous smile swept over my face, but it didn’t last long.

“You can say it.” I choked back a sob and wiped my eyes with the heel of my hand.

G stroked my hair. “Say what?”

“I told you so.” I squeezed my eyes shut, but nothing could stop the flood of tears from coming. “You were right. About Adam. About everything.”

“Oh, sweet boy.” She patted my cheek and handed me the box of tissues off the coffee table. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I was going to.” I pulled out a tissue, then another. “I’d already started drinking, but I was gonna call and then… then Adam was at the door and… and…” The sobbing got the best of me and I lost myself mid-sentence. The tears came faster than I could control them, and the ache in my core intensified with each cry.

G pulled me into her arms and rubbed my back. “Let it out, baby.”

When the worst of it passed, G got some wet paper towels to wipe off my face. I cleaned off the tears and snot and tossed the wad on the coffee table.

“What happened tonight?” G rubbed small, calming circles along my leg.

I told her everything. About arguing with Adam. Punching him. Going over to continue the fight, so blinded by anger I forgot Josh was coming. Seeing Josh hold Adam, both half-dressed, and Adam’s hard dick. The way Myers got under my skin. I told her about our case, more than I probably should have.

“It felt good to hurt Adam. I was tired of taking all the punches.” I gave G a sidelong glance, fully expecting to see disappointment, but instead, she handed me another Kleenex.

“Do you think Adam’s right?” I caught another line of tears on a tissue. “Am I a hypocrite? Am I punishing myself by staying here?”

“No, baby.” G moved her hand to my shoulder and rubbed it. “Well, not entirely.”

“What?” I almost choked on my drink and went into a coughing fit.

G patted my back until my breathing evened out, then wiped my chin with some unused paper towel.

“What do you mean?” I croaked.

“You love this city. And Peyton PD is lucky to have you.”

“But?” I said.

“You could be more, mijo .” G said gently. “You’d be a great detective anywhere. But you think you owe this town your life, and you don’t.”

Her words hit me like a jab to the gut. I stared at the Propel bottle, and it seemed like a year before I could draw in a breath.

“Yes, I do,” I said weakly. “I was supposed to be special, G. My family sacrificed a lot to make sure I was. This community came out to my games. They packed the gym the day I made my commitment to Iowa and fundraised to help cover what my scholarship didn’t. They celebrated when I got drafted to Pittsburgh. And I threw it all away. The whole town knows I caused Ethan’s death, and that guilt still eats at me.”

“You didn’t cause Ethan’s death, though.”

“Not completely, but…I mean my head says that, but my heart doesn’t and…I just want to feel like I did before…you understand?” The words I’d kept inside for a decade spilled out faster than I could stop them. “I wanted people to still be proud of me. But it’s been ten years, and they still bring it up the second I stand up for myself. And it still hurts, G. It hurts the same way it did when Pastor Ferguson said I killed his son, and nothing ever makes it stop. Well, being with Adam did, but that’s a lie, too. Him… this town… they’ll never change because I’m a fucking loser.”

“Oh , Caleb.” G took my face in her hands. “You are special.”

I shook my head, but she tightened her grip and forced me to meet her eyes. There was nothing but love and unwavering loyalty there.

“Yes, you are, but you’re too busy worrying about what other people think to see it.”

My head swam, and I turned my face until G’s hands fell away. Was it really that simple? Why can’t I see it the way she does? Why did it take all of this to get here?

G slid in closer and pulled one of my hands between hers. “You’ve survived some terrible things, but instead of giving up, you fought back. You got sober. You became a cop, then a detective. I’m sorry the people at work betrayed your trust. And I’m sorry Adam hurt you, but I’m proud of you for holding him accountable, even if he wasn’t ready to hear it. He did what addicts do, and I’m sorry that fucker hurt you in the process. But as bad as all that is, it isn’t why you relapsed.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Giving up drinking isn’t the same thing as being healed. Purpose only helps us get sober. Dealing with the issues underneath is what keeps us there. You gave up the booze, and that’s amazing, but you didn’t finish doing the work. If you don’t learn to love yourself for who you are now, how the hell do you expect anyone else to?”

“I want it so bad, G.” I rubbed the spot between my brows. “I’m just so…lost.”

“What do you think you should do first?” She thumbed over my knuckles.

I thought about it for a second. “Start going to meetings again?”

“That’s a good start.” G smiled and patted my hand.

“But I’ve done that.” I grabbed her fingers before she could pull away. “If it was that simple…”

“It isn’t.” She brushed a stray tear off my cheek. “There’s a big difference between attending meetings and actually working the steps. You’ve admitted there’s a problem that needs attention, and Step One is enough for tonight. We’ll talk about it more when you’re feeling better. Because you will.”

“Thanks, G.” I took a long drink of Propel and I could almost feel it seeping into my muscles. My body perked up like I’d finally reached the bottom after a long fall, and it didn’t kill me. I’d lost a lot in my life. Hell, I’d lost a lot tonight. But maybe those things were never meant to be mine to begin with. I have so much to be grateful for. I needed to focus on that and stop giving other people the power to make me forget it.

After one more long drink, my voice was a little stronger. “I’m sorry you had to come out so late. And for…everything.”

“Don’t beat yourself up. I relapsed three times in the first five years of AA.” G got to her feet, grabbed my hand, and pulled me up. “We’re human. We make mistakes. You had a bad night, but that doesn’t mean you forgot everything that kept you sober. Just remember—nobody can be Superman. Come back to meetings and let people help you.”

“Thanks. I will.” I stood up and pulled her into a hug. “I’ll try to learn from this.”

“I know you will.”

“And I’m done with Adam.”

“Don’t give him any more space tonight, baby.”

“I won’t.” I pulled away and held her hand. “I’m just saying that I’ll focus on me and the people who love me. Like you.”

“I do love you.” G pushed up onto her tippy toes and kissed my cheeks. “Now let’s go clean up your bathroom.”