Page 162 of We Can't Be Friends

And I start talking to her.

47

CHLOE

I’m not sure if I’m alive. The last memory I have is the shower going cold. My frozen body collapsing to the tiled floor and being brought back to life by his hands. The strong, steadfast hands that cradled my body and are now brushing my hair.

The black darkness of the world swallowed me whole.

In the darkness, I heard him. Felt him.

I still hear him, a soft echo that I’m clinging to.

He’s telling me about his day. Then, his childhood.

“I wanted to name Audrey broccoli. It was my favorite food at the time. Weird for a three-year-old, I know.” He laughs, and it’s like an AED resuscitating me. “Audrey is a much better name. Proper name. Did you know it means noble strength? That fits her and you, too. You are one of the strongest people I know, Dais.”

There’s a kiss to the crown of my head.

“My grandparents had a pregnant cow at the time. They let me name the calf broccoli. When he passed my final year of school, they let me name a new one.” Another laugh, another shock. “Do you know what I named her? Apple. She’s beautiful, like you. Not that you are a cow, but she’s pretty for one. You’ll meet her someday. I’m going to take you to their farm. Introduce them to you. My grandma will love your mom’s empanada recipe. They will love you.” Another kiss to my head. “Some days, I think I love you.”

Callum keeps talking and I keep climbing the ladder out of here from the dark pit of my grief. It’s deep on February 1st, but it’s never been this deep. Or this hard to climb out of.

If Cal didn’t show up, I don’t know if I would have.

That wasn’t supposed to happen. I took a shower like I find myself always doing whenever I’m triggered. Overwhelmed. Anxious. The cascading water turned arctic. I didn’t mean to end up in the corner, one shiver away from the fetal position and passing out.

I blacked out.

Isn’t that what the past nine years without Aaron have been like? A permanent blackout.

But lately I’ve been on the cusp of a sunrise.

Cal is daylight—a vibrant, screaming color in the darkness that has consumed my life. Everything he touches turns to pure gold, especially me.

“T-th-thank y-yo-you,” I choke out. My throat hurts, the volume barely above a whisper.

“Chloe,” Cal sighs with relief.

I tried to wash away the pain of the day—the shame of what I did.

After conditioning my hair, it hit me like a riptide. I was being dragged down into the vast, unable to swim against the current of shame and guilt.

That’s when Cal found me.

Callum doesn’t realize what he’s doing. He doesn’t know he is pulling me out of a suffocating darkness. His generosity and kindness are the kiss Sleeping Beauty receives to wake up.

His arms tighten around. “Chloe,” he sighs again. “Are you okay?”

I try to answer, but my throat feels like I’ve swallowed rocks. I tip my head back and forth.

“Let me get you some water.” He slides out from behind me and vanishes.

I sip on the water he brought back from a straw.

He’s standing at the edge of my bed, hyperfixated on me. “Pajamas? What do you need?”

“Sl-sleep,” I barely get out.

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