Rivers of the Dead - 5. 1-5 - A Duty of Love

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Voices sounded from below Caleb. His parents were talking about him, talking about what to do with him, most likely. He'd barely left his room in the last five days, and he saw little reason to do so anytime in the future. He saw no reason to get dressed, no reason to eat, no reason to sleep. Some of those happened anyway, but not usually until his natural instincts forced him to.

The front door opened and a new voice joined the chorus beneath him. Liz spoke more loudly than his parents had, and he could hear her clearly. "Where's Caleb? How is he not ready?"

Listening more intently now, Caleb managed to make out his mother's words in response. "He hasn't moved yet. I don't know what to do."

"Well, he's not going to miss today. I don't care if he speaks or not, but he's definitely coming," Liz said forcefully. "Can I go up there?"

"You might not like what you see," Caleb's father said.

Liz was already on the stairs at that point, but she stopped to call back, "It seems that's been happening a lot recently."

Caleb's parents didn't say anything else to her, and so Liz continued her ascent. For a brief moment, Caleb considered putting some clothes on before Liz entered his room, but he just didn't have the energy. He just didn't care. If she saw him naked, it just meant he wasn't hiding anything from her.

Liz didn't bother knocking, entering the room forcefully like a powerful gust of wind blowing the door open. She paused when she saw him lying atop his covers, naked, staring at the ceiling. Caleb glanced at her briefly, seeing the mess of emotions in her brown eyes. Brown eyes. She'd taken her contacts out, and was wearing all black, though the black eyeshadow was missing. Liz wasn't wearing any makeup at all.

"You look like you're going to a funeral," Caleb observed before returning his gaze to the ceiling.

The door closed softly behind Liz and she took several steps forward. She hesitated, then changed her route to go to Caleb's desk, rescuing his desk chair from a pile of laundry. It was likely one of the same piles they'd moved out of the way before performing Liz's prosperity spell, though Caleb wasn't certain.

Liz placed the chair next to Caleb's bed and sat down. Her black skirt, the first skirt Caleb had ever seen her wear, was pushed back slightly as she seated herself, revealing some of her thighs. If the situation were different, and if Caleb was attracted to women, he might've found the sudden revelation of flesh tantalizing. Apathy only allowed him to recognize the potential for such things, however, and he found he had no ability to comment.

"You look like you're going swimming," Liz replied, "And you haven't found your swimming suit yet." She forced a smile and added, "Speaking of suits, shouldn't you be wearing one? Possibly something in black."

"Why?"

"So you can go to the funeral, obviously," Liz said. "We owe it to Ethan."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Caleb said, bolting upright so fast it caught Liz by surprise. She rocked backward in the chair and it almost toppled over, but she barely managed to catch herself. "We owe Ethan a funeral!? We owe him another fucking chance at life! We owe him our love, our loyalty . . . we owe him the fucking truth, and when did we ever give it to him? We could've stopped this."

Liz stood slowly, her face contorting further with rage at each word. Her eyes flashed with lightning, her body trembled like storm clouds rumbling with thunder. And then she reached back with her hand and slapped Caleb as hard as he could, sending him flying back against the bed. He clutched at his cheek, staring at her with surprise as his newfound anger paused to consider this new stimulus.

He growled angrily, wanting to challenge her further and he started forward again only to be slammed backward by some unseen force. Liz raised her hand and the force intensified, pressing him back against his headboard and holding him there with telekinetic energy.

"Listen, you little prick," she roared. "You want to blame me? Fine. You want to blame yourself? Fine. But it's not your fault, and it's not mine, either. At the end, Ethan chose to kill himself instead of asking us what was going on. A simple question from him would've cleared the whole damn thing up, so you think a little truth could've solved this? So could a little patience, a little trust, a little . . ." The force holding Caleb still faltered and then faded entirely and Liz collapsed back into the chair, sobbing. "You think I don't . . . I don't feel bad about our hand in this? You think I . . . you think I want to move on, to forget my guilt? Our guilt? I don't know if we could've stopped it, I don't know anything. Fuck, Caleb . . . it might've been inevitable. It might've been preventable. Either way, it happened, and we have to go to the funeral, we have to . . ."

Caleb pulled his legs up into his chest and hugged them close to his body. He wasn't ready to cry, even seeing Liz that way, though she did pull on his emotions in ways he hadn't allowed himself to do yet. While he couldn't yet cry, he was scared. The future had some measure of certainty before, even if it hadn't been much. Now, it seemed like there'd never be certainty again, never a sure path to follow, because before there'd always been the hope Ethan would be there waiting for him. He'd never felt so alone, and yet, for some reason, all he wanted was to be alone.

"Funerals are for the living," he said quietly, not sure he believed it, though he believed his next statement with all his heart. "I'm not alive anymore, so what does it matter?"

Liz came out of her sobs at the innocent tone of that tragic question. She stared at Caleb until he stared back at her, their gazes locking and maintaining for the first time since Ethan's death. They communicated volumes through their eyes; all the emotion, the pain, the loss . . . it all came through, and they knew the other was feeling just as awful.

And, ever one to bring clarity to an obscure situation, Liz spoke first, a quiet, pleading answer to Caleb's question. "It matters because you love Ethan, and we need to say goodbye, Caleb. It matters because Ethan loved his family, and they need our support. It matters because . . . because you're alive, even if you can't feel it right now."

"Why . . ." Caleb started, but he couldn't think of a new question to ask. He was sick of fighting with Liz, his one remaining friend, no matter how he felt. "Okay, I'll get ready."

"Shower too, please," Liz said.

Caleb sniffed, and realized he smelled a bit like a swamp. He looked at Liz and smirked. "I guess I do need one."

Liz sighed and said, "I don't want to give you the wrong idea, but do you need any help? I don't really want to come back in here later and have to wrestle you into a suit if staying would mean I didn't have to."

"No . . . I'll be fine." Caleb replied. "Liz . . . I don't think it'll ever get better, but . . . thank you."

Liz choked back a sob, then, breathing deeply, she said, "I don't know if it will or not, to be honest. They say it does . . . but what do they know? All I know is that I love you, Caleb. I never had any siblings, but with you around I never needed them. I hope you feel the same way."

"Yeah . . ." Caleb said, forcing a smile, the first smile to cross his face since Ethan's death. "I guess it's nice to have a sister to slap you when you're being stupid."

"Or a brother to show you when you're trying to move on too quickly," Liz replied. She rose to her feet and walked to the door, pausing with her hand resting on the knob. "I'll be downstairs, but there's one more thing."

"What's that?"

"Ethan loved you, too. Don't forget."

Don't forget to comment and react to this chapter! Also, special thanks to my Patreon Supporters: Michael, Bill, Charles, Amr, Don, James, Joe, Jos, Mark, Mark, Paul, and Steve. Couldn't have done it without them. Ask me how you can help and get access to chapters early!