Chapter 14 - Caleb Asked Me One Question And Let Me Refuse It
I met Caleb again on Wednesday.
My choice.
Same diner.
Different booth.
He brought nothing.
No photographs.
No old letters.
No proof that he had loved me from a distance.
Good.
We ate burgers.
Halfway through he asked:
“What do you study?”
I stared.
“Environmental engineering.”
“I know the field.”
“You didn't know the major.”
“No.”
“Good.”
He smiled faintly.
“What do you like about it?”
For twenty minutes, we talked about me.
Not childhood.
Not Claire.
Not Mason.
Me.
It was unexpectedly hard.
I kept waiting for him to convert every answer into resemblance.
You got that from me.
You always liked systems.
Your grandfather was the same.
He did it once.
“You sound like Gordon.”
I put my burger down.
Caleb stopped.
“Sorry.”
“Don't.”
He nodded.
“Right.”
We continued.
Eventually I asked:
“What do you do now?”
“Operations consulting.”
“For ranges?”
“Sometimes. Mostly small businesses.”
“You still shoot?”
“Yes.”
I nodded.
No invitation.
Good.
Then Caleb said:
“I want to ask something.”
“You're learning the setup.”
He smiled.
“Would you ever want to meet my side of the family?”
I sat back.
“Which side?”
“Mason’s mother. A few cousins.”
“No.”
His face changed.
I waited for persuasion.
None.
“Okay.”
“That fast?”
“You answered.”
I almost laughed.
“Do you want to know why?”
“Yes.”
“Are you asking?”
“No.”
Better.
I told him anyway.
“Because right now every new relative feels like homework.”
Caleb laughed.
“Fair.”
“And I don't want to walk into a room where everyone knows twenty years about me I don't know about them.”
His smile disappeared.
“That’s fair too.”
We sat.
Then:
“Can I ask you something?”
He nodded.
“Did you ever consider coming back just for me?”
“Yes.”
“How often?”
“Enough to feel guilty. Not enough to come.”
I appreciated the lack of romantic arithmetic.
“Why?”
“Because every year I waited made the next year harder.”
Claire had said something similar about lies.
Delay increases price.
People keep delaying anyway.
Caleb looked at me.
“I also built a life where regret was easier than rejection.”
That one felt like his.
I let it stand.
When we finished, he reached for the check.
I grabbed my half.
He looked at me.
“I invited—”
“No.”
He stopped.
“Split?”
“Yes.”
He smiled.
“Okay.”
At the parking lot he said:
“I leave Friday.”
“I know.”
“I don't know when I'll be back.”
“Okay.”
He hesitated.
“I want to hug you.”
There it was.
Direct.
No reaching first.
I stood still.
Then:
“No.”
Pain moved across his face.
He nodded.
“Okay.”
I almost changed my mind because he looked hurt.
Old family reflex.
Someone hurts.
Make it stop.
I didn't.
“Maybe another time.”
Caleb looked at me.
“Maybe?”
“Yes.”
He smiled slightly.
“Dangerous word.”
“Apparently.”
We walked to separate cars.
No hug.
No collapse.
I was glad I went.
May you like
I was also glad he was leaving.
Both survived.
