Forever Checking (Checked Series Book 3) (16 page)

Too exhausting.

Melanie seems to get that. Her hand finishes wiping off my face, and it goes back to my hair. She brushes her fingers over and over and over and over and—

Chapter 11

weekend

I WAKE UP TO A wet pillow. The
Friends
DVD menu screen. The sun.

The sun?
What the—

I slept through my night routine. Right through it.

I glance over at the loveseat. Empty. I slept through Melanie going home. I slept through—

I hear a crinkling beside me as I move my head around. I reach up and grab—grab a piece of paper beside my pillow. I hold the paper up in front of my eyes.

Callie,

I have to head home to take Abby to a birthday party. I didn’t want to wake you up. But I’m really worried about you.

I’ll call later.

Love,

Melanie

Folding up Melanie’s note, I glance over at the clock on the cable box. 8:42 a.m.

I have to get moving.

Drifting. Floating. Existing.

Night routine. Latest (or earliest?) night routine ever. Extra last day of period shower. Morning routine. Extra bath. Leaving-the-house routine.

3:45 p.m. Leave for confession.

4:02 p.m. In the confessional.

Father Patrick looks concerned. Really concerned.

Because of how upset I was a week ago when he found me…us…at church late in the evening (was that really only a week ago)?

Because my confessed sins—my lying, my causing pain, my total lack of concern for the feelings of others—are so bad that there is no penance large enough to help me atone?

Because I look that awful?

I don’t know. He doesn’t say. He does let me off with a rather small penance, though (only a Hail Mary and a Glory Be—I say them each nine times), so he must not feel that my soul is in too much jeopardy. Or else, I guess, maybe he just thinks my chance of salvation, my whole soul situation, is completely hopeless. Helpless.

He’s probably right. Sounds like me.

Hopeless. Helpless. Emotionless. Motivation-less. Plan-less. Feeling-less.
{Not song-less. Damien’s here.}

I go home. And I bathe.

And I fall back into my bed. And stare at the ceiling.

5:15 P.M. MY PHONE RINGS.

What if it’s hi—

It’s not. It’s Melanie. I answer. “Hey, Mel.”

“How are you, Callie?”

“Okay. Fine, Mel. Fine.”
Lies, Mel. Lies.

She clears her throat and pauses heavily. She is about to say something uncomfortable, I’m—

“Do you think you should call him?”

What? Why? Why would I—

“Callie, maybe he—”

“I’m not calling him. And I don’t want to talk about him. At all.”

Silence on the other line.

“I’m sorry, Melanie.”
I’m not trying to upset you. I’m not trying to be mean.  Or abrupt. Or ungrateful.

I. Just. Don’t. Want. To. Talk. About. Him.
Or think about him. Or—

“It’s okay, Callie. It’s okay. I’m here when you are ready to talk, though.”

“I know, Mel. Thanks. I’ll let you know.”

Will I ever be ready, though? What is the point of talking about—

“I’ll talk to you soon, Callie.”

“Thanks, Mel. Bye.”

We hang up.

Back to staring at the ceiling.

7:33 P.M.

Phone again.

Maybe it’s—

Mom and Dad. It’s Mom and Dad.

I answer. “Hello.”

“Hi, Callie.” Mom.

“Hey, Cal.” Dad.

“How are you doing?” Mom.

Melanie has talked to them. I can tell. She obviously told them not to mention anything—not to mention him.
Thanks, Mel.

“I’m fine, Mom. Just tired.” Lies. Not fine. Not tired.

“Do you want to come for dinner tomorrow night? Your mother and I can cancel—”

“No, Dad. You and Mom go to your neighborhood party thing. I have a lot of schoolwork to do anyway.” That’s actually true. I said something that is true. I have done no schoolwork since Thursday.

Silence on the other end of the phone. Just breathing.

Awkward.

I’m sorry that I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m—

“Okay, we’ll let you go get some work done then.” Mom. “We love you, Callie.”

“I love you guys too.”

“Good night, Cal.”

“Night, Dad. Night, Mom.”

Phone down.

Staring again. Staring at the clock. Staring at the ceiling.

{Listening to something. It doesn’t even matter what.}

9:02 P.M.

“Callie?”

Mandy’s here. Standing over my bed.

I nod my head to acknowledge that I know she’s here. That I see her. That I hear her.

“I’m just hanging out at home tonight. Want to watch a movie or something?”

Melanie made her stay home. Or Mom did.

That’s not fair. It’s really—

“Or I can stay in here if you—”

“No, Mandy. You should go out. Don’t worry about me. I have a lot of stuff to do.”
Like counting the particles in the air between the ceiling and me.

“Oh, nah, I don’t feel like going out. I’ll just be in my room if you need me.” She sounds worried. So worried.

I’m sorry, Mandy. I’m sorry, Mandy. I’m sorry, Mandy.

She leaves. Back to silence.

Dark silence. It’s getting late.

My body seems to acknowledge the time, the lateness. My feet slide out of my bed. They move around, pushing me aimlessly through my night routine.

12:20 A.M.

Back in bed.

Back to nothing.

6:14 A.M. SUNDAY MORNING.

I guess I should get up now.

I should’ve gotten up hours ago. No point in just being here, in bed. Not sleeping. Not doing anything.

No point in getting up, though, either.

But you have church, Callie. Church. You have to go. You still have to look out for your soul.

My feet slide out of the covers, hitting the floor.

Morning routine. Leaving-the-house routine. Church. Home.

2:20 P.M.

Heart of Darkness
paper writing.

Wondering about my own “Heart of Darkness”…but that’s not accurate, is it?

Maybe Heart of Emptiness. Loneliness. Nothingness.

Mandy, on the other hand, seems to have a heart of pissed-off-ed-ness. Josh apparently screwed up twice this week. First, Mandy must’ve caught him lying a few days ago about somewhere he went and who he went with. Then he apparently forgot some anniversary of theirs that should’ve been celebrated yesterday—I think the anniversary of when they first went on a date.

Mandy didn’t tell me about all of this. Or any of this. But I heard her yelling on the phone late last night. It wasn’t a long conversation. But it was a fiery one. And a LOUD one. I’m pretty sure it ended with Mandy hanging up on him.

Mandy hasn’t said anything to me about it. She doesn’t say much to me—she just asks me how I’m doing on a somewhat regular basis. She’s come in here three times this afternoon already, just for quick check-ins.

Maybe that’s what Melanie told her to do. Maybe that’s all she’s supposed to do. I’m sure that Melanie made rules for the family, guidelines to follow when talking to me right now. Maybe Mandy isn’t allowed to tell me about Josh.

Or…maybe she’s not ready to talk about it yet.

And that’s fair.

Back to paper writing.

Thinking about anniversaries. First dates. What day would even count as my first date with Dr. Blake? When he took my blood pressure? When he taught me relaxation techniques? At the movie? At the bar? Or—

Doesn’t matter now, Callie.

It. Doesn’t. Matter.

I finish my paper. Try to eat a little dinner. Some yogurt and a granola bar. Not many calories. Less than usual. I never went to the grocery store last week. So there isn’t much to eat here. But it doesn’t matter. I’m really not hungry.

Answer some checking-in texts from Mom and Dad. They don’t ask much. I don’t say much.

Melanie doesn’t text. She contacts me through Words with Friends. She plays a word (that scores her like thirty thousand points) and writes a quick message, asking how my day is going.

My day is going. Just going. Just moving along. Life moving along. Life is moving along.

I don’t write that, any of that, to Melanie—that will get me back on family suicide watch for sure.

I write back with one word.

Well.

And it’s not a complete lie. It’s not.

I haven’t gotten a call telling me that one of my family members has gotten into a car crash today. No one has been diagnosed with a horrible disease today. Melanie isn’t bleeding again today. Today Abby wasn’t told that she is failing first grade.

Nothing bad happened today.
Today.

So I’m not lying.

Send message.

My eyes glance at my other Words with Friends game. The one with him. The one that will probably just terminate eventually because no one is going to play any more words.

There are no more words. Not in Words with Friends. Not in texts or emails (I’ve checked—no emails from him. No anything from him). Not on the phone. Not in person. No more.

{Damien starts to—}

No, Callie. No.

Night routine time.

Checking and cleaning and showering and everything. Staying far away from my closet…from the box inside. But I can’t stay away from thinking about it. Thinking about the box. Thinking about—

CALLIE!

Television on. Mahi-mahi tonight.

Bed. Lying in bed.

Hoping to fall asleep. Hoping to dream—to dream myself to a place where everything really is
well.

Chapter 12

not day six…or eleven

5:58 A.M. MONDAY MORNING.

My stomach wakes me up before my alarm rings. I guess it’s hungry.

I don’t feel like eating though.

I don’t feel like doing anything.

Not even sleeping. I just did that. But I didn’t dream about anything. Nothing that I can remember anyway.

No dreaming. Just sleep. Just nothingness for hours.

Just like how it is when I’m awake.

Morning routine time.
{Aerosmith comes in with “
I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing
.” No need to worry, Aerosmith. There’s nothing to miss.}

10:58 P.M.

In bed. TV on. My day is over. Class is over. Work is over. Routines are over. Awkward family phone conversations…hopefully over too.

A few calls today. Mom. Dad. Mel. Nothing asked. Nothing really said.

Mandy came into my room to check on me throughout the day. Just quick check-ins. Neither of us telling the other anything.

Jared sent a text. A picture forward-type thing. Some joke about Mondays being shitty. I kind of assume that Mel and Mom told him that this was all he was allowed to do. Only allowed to send me a quick text. They were probably afraid of what might come out of his mouth if he were to call.

They mean well. They all mean well. And I appreciate the lack of questions. I do. But when do they start treating me normally again?

When does Jared threaten to touch me after sticking his finger in his bellybutton? When does Melanie start discussing baby names with me? When does Mandy tell me what’s going on with Josh?

When does this numb feeling go away? When does life start to matter again? On what day?

Tomorrow? Next week? Next month?

On a special day? When I finish my master’s degree? When I start a PhD program? When Melanie has her baby? When Jared gets engaged?

Thanksgiving is coming up. Maybe then. Or on Christmas. Maybe.

{Madonna bounces in with “
Holiday
.” She—}

Wait.

It’s the end of October. Halloween is on…Saturday.

Halloween. Abby’s favorite holiday. We always spend Halloween together. Always. Every year.

That’s not changing this year just because everyone is treating me differently, because of, well, everything that’s happened.
{Damien aga—}

No, Callie.

I grab my phone from my dresser.

New text. To Melanie.

Hey. Tell Abby that I’m excited about Saturday night. What time are you guys coming over?

Send.

{Madonna comes back in with her song, now—}

Buzz. Melanie.

Open.

We can come over around 5:45 p.m. Are you sure, Callie?

Write back quickly.

Positive.

Send.

Why not? It’s not like I’ll have anything else to do that night. And it’s not until Saturday.

That gives me four more days to not talk, not think, not feel—not do anything.

Chapter 13

should be the last day of therapy…day seven or twelve