Captive - FourTris

Thirty-Four

DECEMBER 10
3 MONTHS, 10 DAYS

I've come to expect his calls. I've turned down my phone so the ringer can't be heard outside my bedroom door, and then I leave it on the windowsill, just on the other side of my pillow.

If he calls, I will answer before the first ring has gone silent. And my mum won't hear it.
Sometimes I don't sleep well, waiting for it. Waiting for the phone to scream in my ear, and my heart to thunder to a roar as I go from dreamland to reality in a half second.

I'm prepared when it rings. I grab at the phone and when I pick it up, the screen lights up the dark. "Hello?"

My voice is not groggy. It never is. No matter when he calls, I'm always wide awake for him.

"Tris?"

I don't have to read the tone of his voice to know his mood. It is 1:50 a.m. He only calls at this time because he's depressed.

Because he needs me.

"Yeah. I'm here."

I roll over onto my back and blink into the darkness. "I'm not... I can't handle this anymore."

His words sit there. I don't respond for a long time. I just blink some more and stare into the darkness. I know that is the wrong thing to do, but I don't want to say the wrong words. "Talk to me."

"It's just not... I just can't handle this. I have nothing."

"You have me," I say. "And I love you."

"I know, but I'm so tired of this. You have no idea, I'm so tired of this."

Me too.

"Just talk to me, okay? You have a lot to think about. Your uncle set you up with that interview. And if it doesn't work out, we'll get a newspaper and apply for every job in the classified section. You'll be able to move out soon. I promise. It will get better."

"I wish I'd grown up in your world. I wish he didn't exist."

"You can't change the past. You can only change the future."

"I know. But sometimes I don't know how to do that. I'm just going to repeat history. I'm just going to be a loser like him."

"No. You're smarter than him. You know you are. You'll be a success. You'll go so far."

I don't know what to say to him during these conversations. I've said every version of everything I can think of. It used to be that just talking to me was enough. His mood would shift a soon as I answered the phone.

But more and more, I have to talk him into it. More and more, I have to be clever and smart and I have to lead him down the path to get him to see it.

"I want to walk to the bridge," he says. The words break through my daze as if he literally shook me awake. There's no threat in his voice. Just a promise. Just reality.

I sit up in bed and wrap the blanket around my shoulders. "Don't do this, please."

"I have nothing, Tris. You don't understand."

"Just don't do this," I repeat. "You have so much. You know you do."

He sniffles. I know he's crying. Even though there are times he seems whole, the cracks still show. And today they are spreading and splintering, and today he may crumble.

"If I come over, will you wait for me?"

The silence is deafening. I think I may have lost him already.

"I'll wait for you."

"Be there in ten." And I hang up before he can argue, before he can change his mind. I find yesterday's clothes and pull them on, but take my time opening my door. My mum's bedroom is on the opposite end of the hall. I can hear her snore.

She has no idea.

I slip down the stairs and write a note on the notepad on the fridge. "Went to school early. Cramming for Lit class."

I know my mum will get up at six thirty. I know it doesn't make sense that I'd be gone by then to go cram for a class, but I don't care.

And I know she will know. But she can't prove it. And sometimes I think she'd rather just believe everything is perfect than question it all and admit it's not. Her way of dealing has always been avoidance.

Our driveway is sloped, so I let out the emergency brake and my car glides backward into the street. And then I start it up and drive away.

My car is silent. I don't touch the radio or the heat; I just shiver in the quiet as I pass under the streetlamps and past all the dark houses. I wonder what everyone else is doing right now. I wonder if they are warm and secure in their beds, if they know things like this are happening all around them.

When I arrive at his house, the front door is unlocked, and I slip back to his room, past his parents' door.

He's lying in his bed, the radio playing a haunting piano melody. For a moment I just stand at the door and stare, because he isn't moving and I think he might be asleep. But then I see him move and rub his eyes.

I walk to his bed and slide in and he turns to me, and he wraps his arms around me and buries his face in my hair. I let out a long sigh, and the tension leaves my body.

We don't speak. We just fall asleep. All he needed was for me to be here, and he can relax and sleep.

And tomorrow he will forget all of this.

Tomorrow he will be himself again, and we can forget all this and just be together.

And even if I have to do this many more times until things get better, I'll do it, because I love him, and it makes a difference in his life.

Together, we're unstoppable.