To love you | Malum

Ch. 29 - This Is Your Fault + I'm An Idiot In Love With Another Idiot

Michael + Ch. 29 - This Is Your Fault + I'm An Idiot In Love With Another Idiot

Columbia was far away from home, and I didn't like it all that much. Being with Calum, however, made it all worthwhile. (And I meant that. He was improving, making changes, he was moving on from the bullshit and coming to terms with who he is, and what he wants. I still hope that it's me.) We drove, and we drove until we were too tired to function properly, and half of our budget was spent on cheap hotels and fast food that made us sick to our stomachs, but it was worth it. Calum Hood made it worth it.

It took a week to get to Columbia – and the first place I had to visit was the one that I never planned on being near again. And it was bad enough knowing that Calum had absolutely no idea that we were about to go see my mother, but I had reasons for this. I needed to know the truth, and nothing but the truth. This couldn't be my reality again. (I hated hating my mother, it made things more complicated and harder to explain to those I care about. I wanted to figure things out before I started shutting her out again.)

"Michael," Calum sighed, his fingers gripping the only form of luggage we had – his suitcase, "I know that you have a lot of baggage in your life already. Why are you adding more by visiting your mom, who you'll literally be seeing in a few weeks?"

"I don't know," I mumbled, trying to pick up the pieces that were scattered everywhere. "I guess I just want to know why she threw me, us, away, my dad and I."

"I understand," Calum said, his fingers twitching as he stared at the windshield. "You really, really remind me of my sister." – and just like that, he changed the subject. He could tell that I was sad and uncomfortable, and I appreciated that he was taking manners into his own hands by not making the situation worse. But it also made me feel sad, I wanted his sympathy, I wanted him to ask me questions, I wanted him to be just as curious as I was. And maybe he was, but I'd never know.

"I know, because she was in a wheelchair."

Calum clenched his eyes shut, his neck falling into the headrest. "She um, she's not here anymore. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know," I replied, though I didn't know. I didn't know much of anything that had to do with Calum because he wouldn't tell me. He didn't want to let people in – they'd only leave him, but I wasn't like that. I would never be like that. That'd only prove I'm like Karen, and that bothers me. "Let's just. . go inside and get this over with."

He nodded, pulling the keys out of the engine, and he looked shaken up. I watched him – watched because he was better than a television, and I listened to him breathe because it sounded better than music, and he was everything to me. "Are you sure you're ready for this?"

"No, I'm not. But I'm doing it anyway."

Calum stepped out of the car first just before running over to help me out, and his fingers were shaking badly, and he was blinking four times instead of three, and I knew that could only mean one thing. I couldn't ask him about it now, not when he was going out of his way to help me out of the car and into my wheelchair. But I knew that I had to eventually.

He wheeled me up there, and I was so hesitant to knock, but I did it. (Calum was proud of me, I could tell. He wasn't going to let me spin in circles without catching me afterwards. I loved that about him.) And we waited for what felt like hours until Karen opened the door, and she seemed surprised, almost, though I knew this was all an act. She didn't actually care about me, or Daryl, or anybody that wasn't herself.

"Michael, what are you doing here? In Columbia?" Karen asked, and she was tying herself to the door with her fingers that were made of strings, and she seemed colorless, and unhappy, and maybe she was trying to start a new life here so she could forget about her other one – forget about her ex husband, her son, the family she used to love. And I know thinking all of this made me a hypocrite because I want nothing to do with her, but it still hurts knowing that she didn't choose us. I'm never chosen.