Secret // Calum Hood

35

Calum

“Calum, she will be fine.  Come on, let’s go home for a while, you can come back tomorrow,” Mali-Koa said, placing her hand on my shoulder from behind as I looked at Elena, sleeping peacefully.  

 

My eyes scanned to the gauze on her wrists.  She had cut in many other places, but they were the deepest there.  They needed changing again.  I felt like no one else was around to look after her.  I felt like if I didn’t stay, she wouldn’t be taken care of.

 

“Calum,” my sister said again, more serious this time.

 

Admitting defeat, I turned to leave, and my mother followed us out to the car.  I hoped that Elena would wake up soon and see my note.  I hope she knows, truly knows, that I love her and I want what’s best for her, whatever that may be.  

 

When we returned home, Dad asked how everyone was doing, and we all just mumbled our pathetic answers.  I retreated to my room, Mali-Koa left to go interview more roommates, and Mom started cooking dinner.  She always cooked whenever we were stressed or feeling sad.  It’s true, good food is what mends the heart best.  Later, we were called to dinner, which was a homemade pizza.  Normally, we would just order in for something as simple as pizza, but Mom loves to cook, and she’s good at it, so no one gets in her way.  I picked apart the gooey, cheesy dream food.  Although pizza is usually my favorite, it couldn’t stop me from thinking about Elena.  

 

“So what’s the deal with your friend?  Is she alright?” Dad asked.

 

“She will be, hopefully,” I answered.

 

“I just can’t imagine what she’s been through.  I mean, I didn’t even see it coming,” Mom added.

 

“I know.  I was going to ask her to be my new roommate.  Everyone else sucks,” Mali-Koa interjected as she sat down to eat with us.

 

“I should have seen it coming.  But I just ignored it,” I said as I threw my dinner in the trash and went to go sulk in my room.

 

 I closed the door and laid on my bed, looking at the ceiling. I noticed a picture up there, a picture of Elena.  She had put it there one day because I told her that whenever I’m sad, I lay on my bed and look at the ceiling hopelessly, thinking about life.  She said that whenever I do this, I will see her picture, and I will hopefully think of her and smile and not be sad anymore.  She was beautiful.  I remember taking that picture of her.  We were in the park, at the clearing.  She was having an unusually good day that day.  She was running around, laughing, smiling.  I loved it so much, that I just took out my phone and started taking pictures.  It was so simple.  She was dressed in nothing more or less than jeans, a sweater, her usual Converse, and a fleece jacket.  Her hair was down, in its usual curly state, and her face was very natural looking, almost no makeup.  All she was doing was smiling at me.  But it made me feel better.  She even made a joke the day she put it up.  She started talking about how she put the picture up there to make me feel better, but not like that.  And then I told her that I wouldn’t, so she pretended to be offended that I wouldn’t “frickle frackle” to her picture.  It was so dumb, but we just laughed for a good ten minutes.  I don’t even think we laughed about it for that long, we just laughed because laughing was good.