Spark

“I’m not sure if I’ll get a chance to with everything going on, but if I do, I’ll let you know.”

Whether or not he hears the insincerity in my words, he doesn’t let on. “Sounds good. You know where to find me.” Glancing down at the clock on the console, he tilts his head outside. “We should get going now, though. Ten minutes until class.”

I lean over the middle console and grab my backpack from the floorboard with an agreeing nod. “Let’s do this.”

As soon as I walk through my front door, Mel and Doug are waiting anxiously for me in the living room. With faint dark circles under their eyes and an unusual slump in their posture, I realize this week’s been incredibly tough for them too. A couple of nights ago, I’d even heard my mom sobbing into my dad’s chest, talking about how her life would be destroyed if she lost one of us. None of us are immune to the crushing sorrow Caleb’s death brought.

“Hey, sweetie,” Doug says, standing up from his brown leather recliner as I walk in the room.

Mel follows his lead; they both come over to hug me and kiss my cheek. “How was your day? Did you talk to all of your professors about your absences?” she asks.

“Yeah, I emailed them all last week,” I repeat what I already told them the other day. “They’d all seen the story on the news and were very understanding, but I’m still expected to be ready for finals next week.”

“Will you be ready?” my dad asks pointedly, never one to beat around the bush.

I nod reassuringly. “Yeah, I’ve just gotta get busy studying. My first exam is next Monday, and the last one is next Friday. Then, I’ll have a full week off before Christmas, and two weeks after for winter break.”

“Honey,” Mel begins, “Doug and I have been talking, and with everything you’ve got on your plate right now, we don’t want you to worry about the greenhouses or preparing breakfast until you’re finished with the semester. Between us and Grams, we can handle it and allow you as much studying time as possible.”

“It’s really not a big—”

My dad holds his hand up in the air to cut me off. “It’s non-negotiable, Hudson, and it is a big deal. We’re worried about you. You’re always so busy putting everyone else’s needs first that you tend to neglect your own, and as your parents, it’s our job to intervene when necessary. We understand and respect your feelings for Crew, and he’s more than welcome to stay with us for however long you want him to, but you’ve gotta take care of yourself too.

“So, begi

“Okay,” I concede, knowing there’s no point in arguing, “but I do have a special project plant I’m working on that I’d like to continue to monitor daily. If that’s all right?” I don’t mean for the last comment to come out as condescending as it sounds, but it does.

Nodding, he exchanges an undecipherable look with my mom then swings his gaze back to me and smiles, sympathy blanketing his face. “Of course, that’s fine. We aren’t trying to be assholes, but we love you and we’re concerned.”

The oven timer buzzes from the kitchen, marking the end of the conversation. “We’re having pork tenderloin with au gratin potatoes and green beans for di

I pivot around on my back foot and retreat to my room, unsure of which Crew I’m going to get when I enter. Opening the door, I find him sitting up in my bed, watching something football-related on TV. His wet hair and change into regular clothes indicates he’s at least gotten up to take a shower today, which I interpret as a good sign, but I’m still leery.

“Hi! I’m home!” I a

His face is completely void of expression when he looks over at me and a

Making my way toward my closet, my step hitches as I wonder for a split-second if he heard the conversation I just had with my parents, or if he remembered me mentioning my upcoming exams. “I can study with you here,” I respond, my voice quivering with emotion.

Abruptly, he bounds up from the bed, grabbing his wallet and keys from the nightstand in the process. “Yeah, well, I’ve gotta get out of here. The walls are closing in.”

“Are you coming back here afterward?”

“It’s not like I have anywhere else to go.” He doesn’t even bother to make eye contact as he kneels to lace his shoes, the wrathful words ripping apart my insides.

Then, he walks out of the room.

No ‘I didn’t mean it that way’.

No ‘I’ll see you later’.

No ‘Bye, Hudson’.

Just gone.

You know when you agree to do something to help someone out, but you also know there’s no way in hell it’s going to work out as pla

It’s now been exactly a week he’s been back at work, and he’s worked every single day since then, making the time we’re around each other minimal. Not that he talks to me unless I ask him a direct question anyway. Other than when we’re fucking—and yes, I realize that’s all it is to him at this point—he’s either watching TV or doing something on his iPad, pretending I don’t exist.

So when Mary called me in hysterics this weekend, the strange calmness surrounding her directly after Caleb’s death seemingly having worn off, and she pleaded with me to set up a meeting where she could talk to Crew, I figured I didn’t have much to lose. I empathize with his pain and suffering, but I can’t understand why he’s shut his mom out, and I hope a little push in the right direction will help. But I’m skeptical. I damn near had to beg him to meet me, and we share a bed every night.

Not surprisingly, there’s no sign of him as I scan the java-inspired, overly decorated room with only a bunch of twenty-something hipsters huddled in one corner and a middle-aged couple make googly-eyes across the table in another. I choose a round bistro-style table as far away from everyone else as I can, thinking that maybe Crew won’t feel so cornered and be less defensive than if he was trapped in a booth. Then, I wait for them to show.

About ten minutes later, Crew strolls inside, looking as gorgeous as ever in his faded jeans, red thermal top, and black and red striped beanie. His eyes, blank and impassive, find me immediately, and I swear I can hear the a

Not an ideal start.

Faking a smile, a small piece of my heart splinters with each step he takes toward me. I feel like one of those pathetic girls who’s trying desperately to hang onto a doomed relationship, ridiculously grasping onto threads of hopelessness. But I can’t give up on him.

I promised his mom.

I promised myself.

Standing up to hug and kiss him when he reaches the table, I’m grateful he doesn’t brush me off in public. A hit to my pride could possibly be the proverbial straw to break the camel that’s never been broken. And damn, I’m tired of feeling like a camel.