Page 56 of Penalty to the Heart

“Were the two of you always close?” I ask, coaxing him to continue to open up more.

“Always.” He nods. “I might have been a pain in the ass, but Jack always had my back. Even more so after our father died.”

“How so?” I interject, wanting to know more about their dynamic.

Caleb hugs his knees to his chest again, placing his strong chin on top of them.

“Jack took care of me. Took care of us. But looking back, he always had in a way, even before our dad died,” he confesses, running his fingers through his hair again, something I came to notice as being a nervous tic he has when he feels uncomfortable. “Now that was one hard motherfucker, if I ever saw one. Fucking brutal, really. Our dad didn’t suffer fools easily, so for a rebellious kid like me, it wasn’t the warmest of households to live in. Not while he was around anyway.” He lets out a deep exhale. “He never hit me or anything, but he sure knew how to cut me open with just one look. See… Jack was perfect in his eyes, whereas I never knew when to keep my mouth shut and avoid ending up on his wrong side. Don’t get me wrong, I loved him ‘cause he was my pops and all. But he never really understood me. And I guess I never took the time to understand him, either. Know what I mean?”

“I do.” I nod.

“Do you get along with your folks?” he asks, needing a bit of a reprieve from walking down memory lane.

“I do, actually. They’re retired now and live down in Florida. Tampa, actually.”

“No shit?” He chuckles.

“Yeah,” I smile widely. “My dad is actually a hardcore Guardians fan.”

“Fuck! Don’t tell me he went to see the game with the Blackhawks.”

“Actually, he did.” I laugh softly.

“Jesus. Well, I always sucked at making a good first impression.”

“That’s okay. I think you more than make up for it the second time around.”

“Yeah?” His green eyes light up.

“Yeah.” I smile back, only for it to slip off my face when his expression turns somber. Before I have time to ask him what’s wrong, he turns around to face me, crossing his legs as he goes about it. I can’t help but notice that for a man of his stature, he sure is flexible.

“I kind of owe you an apology,” he starts.

“You kind of owe me one?”

“No. You’re right. I do,” he retorts, running his fingers through his hair again. “I was a dick to you. I know I was. I shouldn’t have said that shit about your late husband. If I knew he had died, then I wouldn’t have opened my mouth to say such nasty stuff to you. It was a shitty thing to say. But at the time, all I wanted was to piss you off so you’d tell Trent that you could no longer be my therapist.”

“And now?”

“And now… I’m just hoping you won’t give up on me and give me another chance.”

“Is that what you really want? Me to help you?” I interject, needing him to say the words aloud as a way to solidify his commitment to the arduous process he’s about to embark on.

“Yeah. I really do. I think… well, I think you might be the only one who understands what I’m going through right now.”

“I do understand,” I affirm, knowing he needs to hear it from me.

“I hope so, ‘cause I gotta admit… the shit I’m going through… it isn’t pretty. I’m… fucked up, Roxie. Like really fucked up in the head. The things I think about… would scare you. They sure as shit scare me sometimes.”

I turn to face him, crossing my legs to mimic his form.

“Can you tell me one of these things that scare you?”

“I…” he hesitates, lowering his gaze away from mine.

I reach for his hands and hold them tightly in mine.

“No judgment, Caleb. Within these four walls, you have the freedom to express your true thoughts and emotions without any judgment whatsoever. I’ll never think any less of you. Never. Because whatever thought has crossed your mind, I’m almost certain it has crossed mine at one time or another.”

---