Night shifts black

Day Nineteen.

 

 

I was sure I’d be the last one up because of my late night, but there’s no activity in the main space when I emerge. Casey glances over at me from the couch with a groggy smile, and I know he’s just woken up as well.

“Morning, Sunshine,” I chirp, motioning him to move back on the couch so I can sit by his legs. He adjusts, and I place my laptop on his chest.

“For you,” I explain, giving him a quick kiss on the forehead. “I’m go

 

∞∞∞

 

I hear the music through the door when I exit the bathroom to my room. It doesn’t surprise me, at least, not as much as the voices. Luke must be up, too. I dress quickly and comb through my hair, eager to join them and solve the mystery. I’ve felt queasy since leaving my heart with Casey, knowing he could hate my work as much as love it. Would he even get it? Be offended? My mental journey last night had taken a lot of turns and made plenty of assumptions he couldn’t possibly understand.

They stop when they see me, and I feel the heat rise to my cheeks. Casey has the guitar in hand like I’d suspected, but it’s Luke who gives me the first smile.

“Wow, Callie, I’m a little jealous that he gets a poem and I don’t,” Luke teases. At least, I think he’s teasing. I can’t tell, and don’t respond at first. I cover the distance between us and grab my laptop from the coffee table.

“Hey! I wasn’t done with that!” Casey whines, and I give him a look.

“I’ll give it back in a second.”

I turn to Luke. “I did one for you as well, but you weren’t awake.”

Luke looks surprised, as does Casey.

“Really? You wrote two last night?”

I shrug. “Couldn’t sleep.” I pull up Luke’s verses and go to hand him the computer, but he shakes his head.

“No, you read it.”

“What?” I ask, my heart racing.

“I want you to read it. I want to hear it how you intend it to be heard.”

I swallow and suck in my breath. That’s different somehow. I don’t know why, but it is. Maybe because there’s not enough distance then.

“I…”

“Read it. I want to hear it, too,” Casey jumps in, and now I know I’m stuck.

I glance back and forth between the two of them and sigh.

“Ok.” My voice comes out like a squeak. I can’t believe how nervous I am. Casey has already seen the one I’d done for him, but this one is different. This is for Luke. It’s more personal in a way, more intimate. I’m not sure he’d want Casey to hear it, but then realize if anyone has a right it’s his best friend, brother-in-law, and my…I don’t know what.

As I start reading the first line, my voice is weak. I can hear it and nearly cringe. This is not how I intended the words to be heard. Not at all. I shake my head, feeling the tears coming, both from the memories and my current failure of the memories.

“No. That’s not it. I’m starting over.”

I dare a quick glance at them and see Casey’s compassion all over his face. Luke looks more contemplative than anything, and then I recognize his expression. It’s the classic “Luke Craven braced resolve.” He’s not testing me, he’s testing himself. Can he hear what I have to say? Can he open up to someone else’s heart?

I have to do this. For Luke. For myself.

 

“I could have told you everything would be alright.

I could have told you it gets easier the harder you try.

But I couldn’t lie to you, even though I’d die for you.

And I could have told you instead of just holding you.

 

But what could I say that my eyes haven’t already said?

And what words could heal the wounds that bleed like this?

How many tears will it take to drown away the pain?

I don’t know, but I can hold you.

 

And I could have taken you far way from here.

But where would that leave you? It’d be the same even there.

I won’t hide you, even though I’d like to.

And I could have spoken instead of just loving you.

 

But what could I say that my eyes haven’t already said?

And what words can heal the wounds that break us?

How many tears will it take to drown away the pain?

I don’t know, but I can hold you. I can love you.

I can hold you.”

 

No one speaks as my voice fades. I swallow hard again, my throat dry, scratchy. I can’t look at them. I’m afraid. Afraid I exposed too much too fast. Afraid it wasn’t enough.

“Can I see that?” Luke says quietly after a long, painful pause. I glance at him in surprise before handing him the laptop.

He scans the screen again, and I feel Casey’s eyes on me. I’m afraid maybe he’s jealous, but when I dare to meet his gaze, it’s so warm and understanding that there’s no doubt in my mind he’s everything I’ve come to think he is.

“That was beautiful, Callie,” he offers, and I notice Luke’s absent nod in agreement as he studies my words. No, his words.

“Thanks, Callie,” Luke mumbles softly, handing me my computer again. It’s a strange comment, considering he follows it by rising to his feet and disappearing down the hall. I hear a door close and know it’s too early to be his room. He’s escaped to the office.

“He loved it, but it was a lot for him,” Casey explains gently as I study the dark hallway.

“I know,” I reply, dropping beside him. “He’s with The Chair.”

“The chair?”

I nod. “He stole it from the café. I think it has something to do with Elena.”

Casey blinks, clearly confused. “I’m sorry, what?”

I shrug. “The Chair is how we met. I was sitting at my table one day at Jemma’s, and he came in and asked me to move. Apparently, I was in his chair, that chair. He’d go into the café every day and stare at the same one for several minutes. Freaked out the servers and café regulars, but no one asked questions or stopped him. Finally, the day of the party this past weekend he just lost it and basically marched down to the café and stole the chair in broad daylight, right in front of the patrons and staff. I’m surprised there hasn’t been more about it in the news.”

Casey is staring at me like I’d just recited the Declaration of Independence in a made up language.

“Luke…stole a chair. A cheap café chair?” He clears his throat and leans forward on the couch, eyes fixed on the coffee table.

“Yep. Just a chair. He was obsessed with it before he stole it.”

Casey shakes his head. “And now what? What does he do with it? I don’t remember seeing it.”

“He keeps it in his office and sits in it.”

“And does what?” Casey cries in exasperation.

I shrug. “Nothing. He just sits there. That’s where I found him yesterday when he finally broke down.”

I can see the look in his eyes and know I’m about to be tasked with damage control.

He jumps to his feet, and I follow.

“What are you doing?” I ask in alarm as he moves around the couch.

“Going to find out what the hell is going on.”

I vehemently shake my head and grab his arm. “No, you can’t.”

“I can’t? You’re telling me my unstable friend has some kind of obsessive relationship with a piece of furniture, and I shouldn’t go try to find out why?”

I nod. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m telling you. It’s not just a chair. It’s something else, and he’s not ready. If you barge in there now and attack him, you’re going to undo everything we’ve done!”