A slow fall

Chapter 22 - Lucas

    When he wasn't there I felt it. It was weird. I was used to constants, and he was still here, but it didn't feel like he was here.

From when this friendship started, one of easy thought sharing, secret smiles and late night calls, it felt like Caleb was becoming someone different. He wasn't the same boy that I'd watch grow distant, slowly retreating into himself. 

Sure he still didn't talk much and conversations remained heavily one-sided, but he listened and he smiled and he cared.

Somewhere inside of me the absence of his presence settled like a weight. It was manageable, but noticeable in the silence—when the moon climbed high in the sky and my calls went unanswered. Nothing changed come morning.

A while ago I wouldn't have put much thought into it. Even now I didn't expect frequent check-ins, but when we last spoke he didn't sound right.

I wasn't even sure if that made sense. It wasn't that he sounded tired, that was normal, there was just something off in his tone. The distance in his voice, its fluctuating pace, and the words. Startling and confusing.

That was Saturday, three days have passed since then and I couldn't stop thinking about him, our phone conversation, his pleas for me to stay even when I always do. I couldn't shake this thought of something being there, something I needed to look into just a little bit more.

My thoughts swan in a sea of Caleb and Caleb, and Caleb and I realised maybe I'd let myself fall a bit too far too fast.

That was how I ended up pulling up outside the Wilkins house on Wednesday night. It was 6pm and their house beckoned me with warm light and shadowed figures.

I sat idly in my car for a minute, unsure why this felt like a bigger deal than it was. I'd been inside that house so many times over the years that it felt like a second home.

I can still hear the laughter that echoed through the hallway.

I can feel the horror we shared when we made a hole in the wall from throwing a baseball inside the house—a strict rule we were warned against. It was now hidden under a strategically placed photo.

I remember how, after one of the many stupid arguments Adam and Bailey had, me and Caleb stood in the front lawn watching on in amusement as shoes flew out of Bailey's window, crying of annoyance following straight after.

Half of the stories that make up my childhood reside inside that house. Hopefully the stories that make up my future will also feature the people that live in that ordinary suburban home, filled with lives well lived and memories forever cherished.

I shook myself out of my reverie, pushing myself out of the car and walking the short distance to the front door.

It wasn't long before Mrs Wilkins—though she insisted I called her by name—opened the door, a warm smile on her face.

"Lucas sweetheart, it's so lovely to see you." Her arms easily wrapped around me, the motherly embrace so familiar I melt into it slightly. "What brings you by?" Even as she asked she was ushering me inside.

Their house was always pristine. With wooden floors that gleamed in the light, and white walls filled with pictures that smiled down on guests.  

I followed her into the kitchen, the lit that filtered in through the large window reflected off the marble countertops. I declined a drink when offered. While I appreciated her hospitality, now I was inside his house all I wanted was to see him.

"Oh, I just stopped by to see Caleb."

Her eyebrows raised in question. "Caleb?"

"Yeah, I just wanted to see how he was doing."