Six

"Stay close to people who feel like sunlight." - Xan Oku

Callie

As soon as I had shut the door after saying goodbye to Brandon, I quickly flip the lights on before I had even the slightest chance of being alone with the darkness. I was scared, but those last few moments with Brandon calmed me down enough to believe I would be okay. He made me feel safe; even now in my loneliness.

It's been about an hour now since I got home, and instead of showering and doing my normal nightly things I remained in my bed with a random comfort show playing on my laptop. As embarrassing as it was, I was too afraid to go to the bathroom. I didn't want to risk seeing her in my mirror again.. I don't know if I could handle it another time.

I had slipped my clothes off and changed into my moms old "Cancer Sucks" T-shirt that was crumbled into a ball in the corner of my room. I liked it, only because it was two times my size so it touched just below my knees and smelled like her. A lot of the clothes I owned were way too small for me now, so I found comfort in being swallowed by bigger items of clothing to cover myself and the red stretch marks that made a new home all over my body.

I try to think of something quick to force myself to eat for a late dinner when I nearly jump out of my skin at the sound of knocking coming from my front door. The knocks weren't loud, but fuck did it scare me.

I looked at the time on the corner of my laptop, it was nearly midnight. Who the hell could be-

"Callie, it's me."

I freeze, instantly recognizing his voice. Why would he be here? Maybe I forgot something again?

I look around my small studio, hating that clutter was everywhere. Clothes, papers, notebooks, you name it covered the floors. My mother promised she would help me decorate, but her death came quicker than the promise.

"Fuck." I curse under my breath and try my best to grab most of the loose papers and put them together.

"Coming!" I holler, smoothing my hair frizz down as best I can before taking in a deep breath and doing one more scan across my small space. It would have to do.

I open the door, and am met with Brandon and a familiar bottle of liquor in his fist.

"Just wanted to return this." He slurs, handing me the bottle that was nearing empty. His eyes were slightly darker and rimmed with red. They reminded me of me.

"What the hell?" I pull him by his arm into my apartment, no longer giving a shit about what it looked like.

"Too much fun at the bar tonight?" I ask, slightly offended. Did he go right back and drink more? Is this just how he is and did he have to hold back when I was there? He just laughs and walks around my room, not focusing on anything in particular until his eyes finally settle on me. His eyes scan me up and down slowly.

"I went home after I dropped you off."

Oh.

I shake my head. "I don't understand."

I was confused on why he was drunk, but I was even more confused as to why he showed back up to my door half passed midnight. Why my door?

"I just, I thought you said you never really drank." I elaborate, noticing that his dark hair was no longer neatly pushed back like it was at the bar. It was now down his forehead and just barely covering his eyes. I wanted to push it back to see them more clearly..

"I don't. Until tonight." Brandon looks back down at the bottle and slowly walks across the room towards my bed. I was beyond embarrassed that it was on the floor- I was planning on getting a bed frame soon but I stopped seeing a point in it. He plops himself down on the end of the mattress as I watch him carefully. He looked sad, so sad that I found myself sitting right next to him. Something had to have happened.

He puts the bottle down on the floor and folds his hands together, circling his thumbs in thought. I give him the time he needs and even softly put my hand on his back just as he lays his forehead against his hands.

"I walked in on her fucking someone." Brandon said dryly, making me nearly choke on my own breath.

"Oh my god."

"Yeah."

I didn't know exactly what to say- I obviously felt horrible for him. I could feel the ache radiating from his body and I wasn't even the one going through it. I run my hand up and down his back softly, but stop as soon as I feel him stiffen under my touch.

"I'm sorry." I apologize and pull my hand away.

"I didn't come here to-" he stops and angrily sighs, standing back to his feet. "I don't want you to think I came here with..that intention."

I stay seated and look up at him, somewhat confused. I'm pretty sure he was talking about some kind of revenge sex on his cheating girlfriend, which to be honest was becoming what I thought he might be here for. I mean, what else would a heartbroken drunk guy want? He'd have to be drunk to want to have sex with me.

"I just- I don't even know why I'm here. It's easier to talk to a stranger about this kind of thing I guess." Brandon twists one of the few rings on his fingers and I could tell that he was growing embarrassed.

"I thought we were friends, now we're strangers?" I joke, trying to lighten the mood. He only smiles, but finally looks me in the eyes like I've been silently begging him to. His eyes made it a little easier to read him.

"I'm sorry I came."

"Don't be."

I rise to my feet and take a step towards him, already feeling the warmth from his body in my chilly room that never seemed to warm up enough.

"I know you didn't come here to do..that. I mean look at me." I say under my breath with a scoff.

For some reason I was only just now remembering that I'm wearing a T-shirt and panties. I was too focused on my room that I forgot about my appearance. Thank god the shirt covered me.

I bite my tongue as I look back up to see Brandon much, much closer to me.

He put his finger under my chin and lifts it so I was now in direct eye contact with him. He softly exhales and shakes his head, the slight smell of mint and alcohol now diluting my senses. He inhales now, as if taking in the scent of my hair.

"How do you not see it?" He asks softly enough that even if the room were full of people, I would still be the only one able to hear him.

I readjust my eyes to look to his lips, but make the big mistake of looking over his shoulder without a thought of what was behind it. My bathroom mirror was peeking at me from the half opened door that I swore was closed before. I look away as fast as I possibly can before backing up with fear pooling back into my chest. It dissolved when Brandon got here, but it was back now. It would never leave. I clench the front my shirt with my fist, still backing away.

I thought I saw a tiny bit of light from the bottom of the abyss looking into Brandon's eyes just moments before, but it quickly disappeared when I saw my mother's eyes. They were literally pitch black in color, holding no life, just darkness. Just death.

"Woah." Brandon puts his hands up slowly. "It's just me."

I don't dare remove my gaze from his, even though the mirror was quietly tempting me to take a peek.

Look at me, it whispers, look at me.

"You did this at my place too, do you remember that?"

I blink slowly and finally turn around to make sure my eyes were guarded from that damn mirror. I must have looked so fucking crazy right now.

"Can you please shut the bathroom door?" I ask, trying my hardest to control my voice from trembling. Don't cry.

With no questions asked, I hear his footsteps and the door shutting within seconds. I release a shaky breath and finally let myself turn back around. I notice that he looked beyond confused, but he didn't ask questions.

"You're going to think I'm crazy." I say, squeezing my hands into fists to stop the shaking.

"Try me."

I look behind him once more to confirm the door is actually shut. Fuck it.

"I see my dead mother sometimes."

The words felt weird coming out of my mouth because it's the first time I've actually said it. It even sounded more ridiculous out loud, so much so that I began to regret letting it slip.

"That's," he brings his hand to his mouth and scratches the corner of his lip. "Terrifying."

"Sorry. I feel like the only way to say something like that is bluntly."

"How long have you been seeing..that?"

"It's only happened a few times since she died." I slowly walk across the small space to the kitchen area that was crammed in the corner. I should have agreed to pay an extra hundred dollars for the full one bedroom. I hated feeling so restricted; there was no place to hide from ghosts in mirrors here.

"Don't get all nursey on me. I know it's not real, I think my head is just fucked." I grab the bottle of apple juice from the fridge along with a water bottle for Brandon. I turn around and begin to pour my juice in a glass to distract myself from what I just saw and what Brandon might be thinking of me

"Nursey?" He laughs, catching the water bottle as I toss it to him.

"Yeah. Like this is the part where you're going to tell me I need to maybe see a specialist? A therapist?" I shake my head and laugh at the sheer idea of me going to therapy as I sip my juice. He frowns as his eyes lower to the hand holding the glass, noticed the shaking that wouldn't stop.

"No, I wasn't going to say anything like that." Brandon says, his voice low as if he were offended. "I am definitely not one to recommend good ways to cope." He motions toward the bottle still on the floor before.

"I guess we both have kind of a shitty way of working through things.." I send him a sympathetic smile, and he returns it.

It felt nice. This. Not being judged.

Throughout the next hour as the night grew chillier, Brandon hung an old blanket over my mirror for me. I stood beside my bed with my eyes to the floor, even though he made sure to keep the door shut as he was putting the blanket in place. I appreciated the gesture.

Usually there are times I think to myself when I'm with someone what time I or they are going to be leaving. I like to know times, dates, I liked exactness. It eased my anxiety. But with Brandon I lost track of time. In fact, I didn't care what time it was, nor did I check.

We sat on my stupid mattress on the floor and had stupid conversation that made me laugh for what felt like the first time since my mom got sick. He told me more about himself, about how he grew up a star wars nerd and collected toy lightsabers. He said that phase ended when his mother died in a car accident, which made my heart sink for him. His mom was also a nurse.

He said he loved books, science fiction mostly. I thought I remembered seeing a huge bookshelf back at his place.. I hoped he'd show me one day.

His middle name is Randall, which made me fall to my back in laughter when he told me even though I secretly loved it. It was after his great grandfather.

At one point throughout the night I realized that we were now laying down and facing each other. My head is on the pillow and his cheek is resting on his fist as he looks down at me while I tell him a little bit about myself. I hated talking about myself- especially when the person I was talking to was a million times more interesting that I would ever be.

He looks at me like I am, though. And he absorbs every word I say like it's of his upmost importance. I memorize his smile lines and the scar on his right eyebrow. I memorize the way his voice changes when he talks about his family versus when he talks about April. He still seemed sad, but like me, he hid it well.

I hated that I was memorizing tiny details about this man, because this man was heartbroken over another Woman. And I don't think my heart can take being a rebound.

I pretend to drift to sleep even when I don't want the conversation to come to an end, and silently hope he stays. I had to pack up any feelings and memorizations that were growing and place them somewhere far, far away from my heart. Because if my heart catches hold, I'll be the next one with it broken.

To my relief, Brandon ends up staying. I peek at him when the silence grew long, and he was still propped up on his hand with his lips slightly parted and eyes shut. I smile at him, wondering if he fell asleep looking at me. I wonder what was going through his brain if he was..

I force the thought out of my head and close my eyes, finally feeling safe enough to get a good nights sleep.