Grayscale

Chapter Twenty-One

        “Gabriel, it was my fault.” We’d been talking for maybe twenty minutes by this point. I’d explained my whole relationship with Reed – a fairly condensed version of the story – and I’d read him the letter, which I still held clutched in my hand. The page was soaked with tears, and I could barely breathe.

        I’d been home for about an hour, and my phone was blowing up. Apparently, everyone had heard about my boyfriend offing himself, and they all had different questions and accusations. Only Wes and Sam even had apologies to offer. A few friends wanted to know if I knew why he had done it, others wanted to know why we had broken up . . . and then a few friends told me that if I’d never tried dating, he would have never gone out like he had. Without saying so, they had told me it was my fault.

        I didn’t blame them. I agreed with them, like I’d just finished telling Gabriel. If not for me, Reed would still be kicking. Maybe if I hadn’t given him false hope for a better future, he wouldn’t have acted like he was getting better, maybe he would have gotten bad enough that his parents would have had to have gotten him real help . . . maybe he would have survived.

        “Calypso . . . Jesus.” Gabriel sighed. I put the phone on speaker and sat it down on my bed, so I could run my hands through my hair and curl up into a ball on my bed. “Ay dios mio, mi hermosa.”

        That gave me pause. I screwed my face up and asked, “Did you just call me a butterfly? I’m taking Spanish III, Gabriel. And I’m not a butterfly.”

        “It’s an endearing term, and I . . . you know what, give me a second.” I heard him sit the phone down, and all of a sudden, I could hear another man speaking on the other end of the line. He wasn’t talking to me, and it was faint conversation – he was in the room with Gabriel. After a few seconds, their voices were getting escalated. I heard the name “Mia” tossed around a few times. A door slammed. “I’ve got to take care of something right now, Calypso. I’m really sorry.”

        My heart stopped, and all of a sudden, I wanted to vomit a little bit. I didn’t want to be alone right now, and I didn’t want to be with any of my friends. None of the rest of them were as in the middle of this shit as Gabriel was. He was new to my basket case of a thought train, but he was still the only one who even halfway understood. Maybe because he was my soulmate, and maybe because he was as in the middle of this as I was, but whatever the case, I needed him.

        “No,” I choked. “I can’t . . . I can’t do this right now. I can’t be alone. Please.”

        There was a sharp intake of air on the other end of the line. “Calypso . . . Damn it.” He sighed, and instantly, I felt bad for saying anything to him. He had things to do. I wasn’t his problem, and I shouldn’t have burdened him with my issues. He didn’t have time for me. He’d just told me that.

        “Nev-nevermind. Just . . . go do your things. I have about a hundred people to respond to anyway, so I’ll be fine. I won’t be alone. Go and do your thing. I’m fine.”

        “You’re not fine. This kid you fell in love with killed himself and you think – you know what, it doesn’t matter why you’re not okay. There’s more reasons than I can count. But don’t tell me you’re okay.”

        I almost had to laugh. Of course he would call me out on my bullshit on a night like this. “Fine. I’m a fucking mess, and I need you. Is that what you wanted to hear? I need you, and you can’t be there for me, and I’m used to it. I’m used to not being anyone’s priority. Just fucking go.” This wasn’t supposed to be an argument, but so often talking to Gabriel, I felt like a dog backed into a corner. I had to fight, I had to defend myself. Was that how this was supposed to be? Were we supposed to act like an old married couple twelve hours into this? None of my friends were like this.