Page 41 of Beck and Call

I nodded and headed that direction. I preferred to visit her in the solarium. Even with Callie, I maintained an emotional distance. Seeing her in her private space was too personal, and also more depressing.

In the solarium or the cafeteria I could talk to her and pretend she was choosing not to talk back to me. I couldn't deny the reality when I had to visit her in her room. The sterile nature and hospital equipment was undeniable proof that the girl I loved wasn't really the person I was visiting.

There were signs in front of me starting in our late teens, but I was barely more than a child myself and missed them. We all did. Every single person in her life missed what was so glaringly obvious in hindsight. One minute she was the life of the party. Daring, adventurous, and up for anything. As a teenage boy I didn't immediately recognize how risky some of her behaviors were, but it was apparent when her mood shifted.

She would pull away from me, much in the same way I did from Evie now that I thought about it. One minute she couldn't get enough of me, and then it seemed the next minute she didn't want to even speak to me. Of course, it wasn't always that immediate, and there were times intermixed where she seemed, at least outwardly, like everyone else we knew.

We had odds stacked against us. Her parents were working class people from Renton. She took a train and a few buses to attend the fancy academy I went to with Colter. Except, she was there on a full scholarship for art. Her pieces represented her so well. There were canvases bursting with life and color, and there were other pieces that seemed to capture the very essence of despair.

Callie was often insecure about her place in my life. The differences in our social standing bothered her. My parents were more concerned with the changes in my moods than they ever were with the bank account balance of her parents. Eventually, they came to the belief we weren't right for each other. Callie believed they'd never liked her, and I knew I'd never be able to convince her otherwise.

When we came together it was dramatic, over the top, and all consuming. I lost myself in her in a way I never had before or since. Every feeling she brought out of me was bigger than anything I'd ever felt. When she cut me off time and again, it wrecked me. Then she'd bring me back into her light, and my own depression would back off.

I forgave her any transgression, and there were plenty. A few of the times she pushed me away she turned to other guys. She was the first girl I slept with, and there weren’t any others the entire time we were together. Callie couldn’t say the same. Every time we fell apart she’d fall into the arms of someone else, and each time it killed me a little.

Not only did my relationship with her leave me with a crushing sense of guilt, but also a deep sense of distrust. I managed to choose women who were out to use me for my money or connections. Callie wasn’t the last girlfriend I had who cheated on me. Evie was wrong, I wasn’t just bruised.

After about a year of living through the rollercoaster of my relationship with Callie, I told her I needed space. She was starting to retreat, and instead of seeing the signs of how low she'd sunk, I chose to save myself.

Enduring another period where she ignored me and turned to another guy was too much. Everything with her had become too much. It was either too good or too horrible, and I needed it to stop, even for just a moment.

It was a random Friday, halfway through our senior year. She sulked through the hallway at school. I knew what was coming. I'd try and speak to her and she'd turn her back to me or stare straight through me. This time I beat her to it.

"I can't do this anymore," I blurted out when I got to her locker.

She blinked up at me, as she often did during one of what I thought of as her moods, but she didn't speak to me. "I'm tired of trying to guess which Callie I'm going to find the next day. I can't keep living through this. This time when you go find some other guy, stick with him. I’m done."

She never said a word to me but turned and walked out of the school a few hours before the day was supposed to end. I figured she'd take some time, and maybe we'd work it out, or maybe we'd move on.

I didn't expect her to write a one-page letter apologizing for how hard it was to keep pushing through the darkness. I certainly didn't expect for her to swallow all of the antidepressants I wasn't aware she'd been taking, or the sleeping pills she'd been prescribed.

What no one had told me was Callie had recently been diagnosed as suffering from depression. Her family was aware, but they couldn't have foreseen that her diagnosis was incorrect. Callie would later be correctly diagnosed as having bipolar disorder, but she'd never be able to benefit from the correct medication and therapy.

It was almost two hours before her mother came home from her job as a receptionist in a dental office and found her daughter unconscious, breathing shallowly, and clutching what would be the last coherent words she'd ever formulate.

So, for twenty years I came to visit the girl who would never mentally become a woman. Her body had aged, as mine had. She was still one of the most beautiful women I'd ever seen, but the spark that was her had left. Most of the time she stared at me with the blank look I'd seen each time she’d push me away.

Callie interacted with her environment to an extent. She could walk with some help, she could feed herself with some help, but she didn't talk. Her hands hadn't gripped a paint brush in twenty years. Her body was still present and breathing, but Callie had fled as she meant to that horrible Friday afternoon. At least, the parts that made her who she was left. In a way, she was even more trapped in the darkness than she had been as a teenager.

In my selfishness I unknowingly threw her illness in her face and provoked her to make a decision that would trap the two of us in purgatory forever. If she wanted to make sure I could never leave her, she succeeded.

"Hi, Callie," I greeted. I tried to force a cheerful tone, but it wasn't working.

She wasn't catatonic. Sometimes she'd look at me, and maybe I was fooling myself, but it seemed as if she occasionally recognized me. Tonight, unfortunately, was one of those times. It was always worse when she seemed more aware.

Her moss green eyes locked onto mine and held for an uncomfortable period of time. I began to babble random updates. I told her about my trip to Berlin, the business successes I'd had, and eventually I ran out of things to tell her that weren't about Evie.

If I was ever going to have a chance to "figure my shit out," as Colter suggested, I needed to start with being honest to Callie.

"I met someone," I murmured.

Her eyes found mine once again. I wasn't sure if I was seeing acceptance, sadness, or happiness. Perhaps I wasn't seeing anything more than the emotions flitting through me every time I thought about Evelyn.

"She's amazing, and I think I'm falling in love with her. How can I know, though? The last woman I told I loved her was you."

Her eyes left mine, and a tear rolled down her cheek. It was the most I'd ever seen her react to anything, and I'd made her cry. I was always making her cry.

I wiped the tear away from her cheek. "Please don't cry. I hate it when you cry. I'll let you rest. I'll be back next week."

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