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He looked something awful with dark circles under his eyes and his black hair wild and falling over his forehead. His facial hair was dark and he looked almost completely different. But it was his eyes that looked the same. Cold, dead eyes that looked back at me. Empty. There was nothing there as I picked up the phone and held it to my ear.
“I knew you’d come see me,” he said and smiled. It looked feral. “I knew you would miss me too much.”
I gripped the phone a little tighter. “No, I’m here because I have questions and I want you to answer them.”
“Why would I do that?”
I mustered up the sweetest, most genuine smile I could. “Because you love me.”
His face softened for a moment before he glared at me. “But you ruined that, didn’t you?”
I skipped to the first question. “How’d you get my address? The one in New York, I mean.”
“Oh, that wasn’t hard at all. A few sessions with your parents and I had them wrapped around my finger. I told them I wanted to send you some papers regarding seeing me when you came home to visit. I told them I needed your address and they gave it to me. Just. Like. That.”
He snapped his fingers in front of the glass and I was sure his goal was to make me flinch or jump back or scream. But instead I sat there with a stone cold expression and ignored the churning in my gut.
“I remember the first time I saw you.” A wistful expression crossed his face. “There’s a picture in your parents’ living room right on the mantle. You were dressed for the winter and you were in the snow. Smiling. So beautiful. But you had a sadness in your eyes, Abby. A sadness that only I could fix. You needed me, you still do.”
Anger took hold of me and I sat there for a minute trying to breathe. All of this because of a stupid goddamn picture. I wanted to be angry at my parents as if all of this was somehow their fault. But it wasn’t. Van Sant was a sick, sick man and if this hadn’t happened to me it would have happened to someone else.
But it didn’t happen to someone else. “This started and ended with me,” I finally said and nodded with finality. “You won’t do this to another girl, you won’t hurt anyone else. Truthfully, Henry, I feel sorry for you. I’m sorry for whatever happened to you that made you this way and I’m sorry you didn’t get the help you needed. But you did help me, I’ll give you that.”
He smiled and nodded his head. “I know. I helped you realize how bad certain people are. I helped you realize how bad Knox is.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” I said softly. “You did help me, Henry. You made me come to terms with the wrong I’ve done in this life and you helped me find my way back to Knox. You think you showed me how bad he is? Really? No, Henry, you showed me how much I love him.”
He started shouting and I held up a hand, waiting for him to quiet down. “I want you to know that this is the last time you’re going to see me. This is goodbye, Henry.”
He immediately started shaking his head, slamming the phone against the glass. “No! You need me, you fucking bitch. You need me!” I saw a few guards come up and try to restrain him, grabbing him by the arms and pinning him to the glass. He stared at me one last time with those cold, empty eyes and all at once I felt the closure I needed.
“Goodbye, Van Sant.”
Once back in town, I stopped at the grocery store to get some things for dinner. I noticed there was a lightness in my chest that hadn’t been there before seeing Van Sant. It was as though my heart knew it was finally over, knew that there was no reason to live in fear. I was no longer on edge or looking over my shoulder.
There was just peace. Simple, quiet, enjoy the sunshine peace.
I was tossing two loaves of bread into my carriage when I saw a familiar face stroll down the aisle. There was a Red Sox ball cap on his head and his scruff was longer than it was the last time I saw him.
“Caleb,” I said quietly, feeling the oxygen had been sucked out of my lungs.
His dark brown eyes met mine and he paused, his back straightening as he stopped swinging the basket he was holding.
After finding out that Caleb was released, I tried to no avail to get in touch with him. I called, texted, emailed. Hell, I even stopped by The Pelican to see his dad. But for all I knew, the Bishops hated my guts for the hell they had to endure. Being accused of stalking and harassment could do some serious damage to anyone’s reputation, even if all of the accusations were false.
Caleb had every right to hate me, I knew that. If, right now, he wanted to scream in my face and storm off, I’d let him. But not before he knew the truth. I needed him to know that I never thought it was him.
“I’m so sorry,” I started and moved forward. “I really am. I… I know that an apology doesn’t erase all of the pain you must have gone through, Caleb. But, I… I never thought it was you. I really fought for you from the moment-”
He held up a hand and shook his head before flashing a small, surprising smile. I know you did. I, uh, I got your texts. And calls. And emails,” he laughed.
I was confused. “Then why didn’t you-”
“Call you back?” Caleb finished for me. When I nodded, he continued. “I was going to, but then I heard Knox got hurt and figured it was taking up a lot of your time. Abby, after all the shit you went through I wasn’t going to bombard you and give you a hard time about everything. None of this is your fault.”
My eyes watered and I gave a small sniffle, my face getting hot right there in the bread aisle. Caleb didn’t hate me, didn’t blame me for making the last few weeks of his life a living hell.
His eyes widened as a tear fell down my cheek and he looked around frantically. “Shit, please don’t cry. I’m sorry. I, uh, I… shit. What did I say?”
