Page 63 of Refraction

Calvin paused at the curb and stuck his arm out, and a cab pulled right up. The ache in his chest was so painful he couldn’t get a deep breath and his hands were shaking, but he got in and he headed home.

* * *

Tucker watchedCalvin leave and tried to remember how to breathe. He’d been so careful, but crazy showed, he guessed.

He couldn’t promise to be less than he was; he couldn’t. He didn’t know how.

Tucker pulled the paintings out, looking at the beloved curves, the beauty that…. Were they so awful? Was the way he saw Calvin so distasteful?

God. What was wrong with him? He threw the canvases, shattering them, first the ones of Calvin, then the rest, destroying them one after the other, until he couldn’t breathe, until all he could do was stare into the night that wasn’t black.

He couldn’t stay here. He couldn’t.

He grabbed his phone, pushing Marge’s name with one finger, leaving a bloody swipe. “Answer the phone. Answer me.”

“Tuck? Honey? It’s real early. What’s wrong?”

“I have to go home. Please. Please help me. I have to go home, right now.” He was losing his mind, and the demons…. It didn’t matter if they were real or not. They showed around the edges. He was losing it. He must be.

“Oh shit. Okay. I’ll call you a car. You go to the airport. I’ll get you on a flight, okay? What about…?”

“I couldn’t hide my crazy. I tried. Please, I need to go home. I need the lights to go off for a while.”

“Anything, son. You’re okay, right?”

“I need to go home. I love you.”

He hung up, and he grabbed the clothes he’d come with, his laptop and cords, and he headed downstairs to wait for his ride. As he waited, he shot off an email to Marge with instructions for what was left of what was his here.

It was time to go home where he belonged.

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