A slow fall

Chapter 42 - Lucas

    It was another four days before I saw Caleb again. Time had a habit of creeping by; Football, studying, lectures, and in-between all the humdrum was Caleb. He took up my thoughts. His name was all I looked for when a notification came through my phone. His voice was all I wanted to hear when I left the silence of the library and sound found me once more.

Sunday mornings brought crowds into the town square, all the more when the weather was good. It wasn't warm, but the sun shone through the clouds in greeting and people came outside to see.

I waited outside the Church for Sunday service to end. The parking lot was full; cars lined the sidewalk, every inch until the road curved, covered by metal. Soon the doors would open, the tower bell would chime, and people would come flooding out the entrance in droves. I walked along the path surrounding the Church, taking my time as I circled the building for a second time, waiting.

The sky was bright, a blue so inviting, so familiar, I couldn't stop my eyes from drifting up. The clouds moved slowly, bundles of white floating by, leaving patterns in their wake.

I carried on walking. I wasn't sure I'd stopped since I'd gotten out of the car. Restlessness clung to me, an itch under the skin I couldn't quite scratch, and moving was all I could think to do to ease some of the tension. So I waited. I circled the building for a third time, my eyes lingering on the clock tower every round I made, begging both hands to finally align. Until, finally, a loud clanging sound began echoing across the town square

I counted, one, two, five, twelve, until the main doors opened and chatter replaced the silence left in the wake of the bell. The crowd bulged out the door, people flocking down all sides of the stairs, some lingering, some heading to their cars, but I moved past them in search of one particular head of hair.

His brown curls lay flat against his hair, his prim and proper church clothes slightly ruffled. He hovered behind Margret, his eyes shifting around the crowd, searching for an escape. I took that as my cue.

My first step was shaky, my foot meeting the ground too heavy, but I carried myself closer. I shook my hands out as I walked in an attempt to pull myself together. I wasn't sure it worked, but it didn't matter; when Caleb's eyes found mine I felt all my tension drift away.

He smiled, so small you might miss it, but I noticed the dimple that showed on his left cheek – only that one – and the slight squint of his eyes. Margret was talking to someone, a woman with a firm grip on her son's arm as if he were a child she was stopping from running off and not the teenager he looked to be.

"...it's fundamental to a boy's growth," the unfamiliar spoke, her voice soon joining the song unfolding around us. Caleb's voice was the melody sung above the thumbing bass.

"What are you doing here?" He asked so casually.

I smiled back, "Oh, you know, just walking around." And when he snorted things felt normal. As if Wednesday never happened at all. He shuffled on his feet slightly, hiding his hands in his pockets when he began to fidget.

"Walking around Murrayfield?"

"Why not?" And before I could stop myself, "You're here." A blush rose up his cheeks and he quickly darted his gaze away. Without his eyes watching me, I let my gaze linger. On the shirt that hung off his frame slightly, hiding a body that was thinner than I'd realised. On his face, the marks under his eyes like bruises, dark against his pale skin.

When his cheeks lost their hue he looked up again, his eyes hesitantly meeting mine. "So," he hesitated, his gaze heavy, "what are you doing now? More walking?"

"If that's what you want to do."

He turned towards his mom. Her back was still facing him as she listened intently to whatever was being shared. He faced me again, "I could go for a walk," but he wasn't looking at me. His eyes searched the crowd and when they reached their target, I followed.