Bittersweet

Chapter Five - "I don't think that anymore."

August 25th, Sometime 9:00 a.m

The glistening water could blind him. It was a murky clearish-green tint, but the rays of the hot sun made it look like a mystic blue. Caleb had woken at somewhere close to five in the morning and had been out since the sun rose. First, he had taken his normal run route around the dog park and past the parkway, then he made himself a hefty breakfast bowl after scrubbing the heat and sweat from his body.

Nia was supposed to be with him. He had made her a promise earlier in the year on her tenth birthday after seeing that their mother focused more on Casey than her.

Picnics once a week when we can? Even if it's after school?

He remembered vividly the day they latched pinkies under the tree at the side of the family house. Her dress had dried blueberry pie filling directly in the center, but he hadn't told her until right before he left for the day. Her hair was longer then, when his was short.

It had been a long few months full of pressure and conflict. He had broken their promise and pathetically apologized over and over again, but Nia wasn't oblivious. She knew what had been going on and she understood him.

The wind was fading to cool breeze he loved in autumn. Leaning back on his hands, he pointed his head to the sky and closed his eyes. A deep breath in, air encapsulating his lungs, then back out.

He remembered being a teenager, skipping school nearly once a month to sit anywhere in silence. Teachers never complained, so his parents never found out.

His love for isolate nature came from Casey in her short-lived preteen phase of writing music. The comparison of layered clouds to choosing someone in love. He never knew how she at that age could write anything remotely meaningful about romance, but it was beautiful. He was sure he still had the paper somewhere in his apartment.

Opening his eyes, he brought his hand to his forehead to shield his eyes from the sun. The clouds, he thought. Invisible in the night, so complicated in the day. Resemblant to emotions in a way.

Normally, there would be ducks by the stream sitting around the edge of the water, but not today. Looking around him, he took in the scattered and barely there flowers. Mostly dandelions, but some tulips. Orange tulips.

He smiled. If there was someone out there for him, he would bring her here. To the water under the walking bridge deep in the trees of the somehow always packed park. Someone who liked the minimal feel of breeze in late summer.

Sometime 2:00 p.m

The counter next to the sink was full of shrimp to devein and vegetables. Red peppers to roast. Broccoli to boil. Onions to dice. Thyme to pick.

He hated cooking, but it was apparently in his DNA which made sense to him. Even if he purposely tried to ruin a cooking pot, he would immediately backtrack and undo it, occasionally making it better.

Reed had once joked about it and called him "Ratatouille" back when they had a normal bond. Back when Reed was a good man and a good father.

One thing Caleb could never shame Reed for was the love he kept alive with Fiona. Corrupt and evil, but he was surely a wonderful husband.

As he clicked on the burner under the pot of rice, he heard a buzz from his phone on the table.

Drying his hands on the dish towel, he looked at the screen and saw a message from his longtime and closest friend, Davis.