Control Freak ✔️

36 losing control

The papery yellow shades were pinched shut, though the sunlight still burned through like a blurry image on a television monitor. It was bound not to make it very far, anyway, for it spilled out over the unpolished wooden boards until it was smothered by dark streaks running through it like shadowy fingers clawing out from underneath the bed. The sheets of the bed had barely a wrinkle, though they climbed a small hill and converged at a single, quiescent peak, as she lay there, and he sat by her bedside just watching. He thought to nudge her awake. Ultimately, he decided against it.

The first thing Caleb thought to do once he drove into town was go to the bar, thinking everything he needed to do he could probably get accomplished in there. He drove into the mostly empty lot of the first one he saw. The sign painted on the window above the doors read: The Honeycomb and its inside captured the essence of an old-time saloon. Most of the wooden chairs were propped upside-down on the tables. There was no one there except the bartender, dutifully wiping down the counter in a slow and meticulous fashion.

"You look a little young."

"You guys got a payphone in here somewhere? I just need to call somebody," said Caleb. The bartender pointed toward the hallway by the sign leading to the bathrooms.

"Thanks," he replied.

"Bartender," he heard a grim voice mutter. Caleb took a glance over his shoulder but didn't really look, but there was a customer, stalking over his pint glass in the corner of the bar. He thought that the man had fallen on some hard times, but not much else of him as he went about his business with the payphone. The bartender obliged his request for another, stealing pitying glances at the man as he let the beer slowly fill the new glass with his shimmering, bubbling poison.

Alone now in the hallway, Caleb pushed the few coins he had in the slot and dialed a number he knew by heart. It rang three times.

"Hello?"

"Mom," he nervously began. It elicited a long pause from the other end.

"Caleb," she sighed. It was one of those "mother sighs." One that could only come from the kind of exhaustion one has after carrying a child for so long and raising them for so long and then one day, never hearing from them again. It was a tired sigh, mixed with relief, lament, and despair.

"Mom," he whined.

"Caleb, what's going on with you? I see you on the news every other day, you're on the run, what's happened to you?"

"I don't know, Mom. I— I can't explain how all this got so out of control."

"Will I ever be able to see my son again?"

"Ivy and I are planning to get reconstructive surgery and leave the country. Maybe years down the road, I'll be able to come back and—"

Something gave him pause. It was the silence of his mother. He couldn't hear her breathing anymore, like she had pulled away from the mouthpiece. It felt like she had pulled away from him.

"Mom," he softly uttered. "Have you been going to the doctor still?"

He heard that sigh again.

"Mom." His voice was a panicked mumble.

"There's no money for the doctor, Caleb."

"Of course there's money for the doctor, Mom!" he exclaimed. "Tell that asshole to help you! Don't be prideful!"

"It's not about your father and me. I accepted this a long time ago. He has, too. I'm too far gone now, treatment won't help me."

"So, so, what? You're just gonna give up? You're just gonna wait to die?"he cried. He tried to hide his sniveling face from the other customer as he passed him to go to the bathroom.

"Caleb," she whimpered. "I don't know how much more of this I can take. Do I have to see my son in a prison uniform? Do I have to bury you? Why would a mother live for that?"

"But it's not like that, mom! I swear to you. I'll fix this! I'll fix everything, okay? But you have to get treatment, mom, you have to fight it!" he sobbed.

"I'm just so tired," she muttered to herself. "I'll try, Caleb. I'll try."

"Just wait for me, okay mom? Okay? I lo—"

"To continue call, please insert more change," the automated message buzzed. Caleb held the receiver to his forehead as he wept. "To continue call, please insert more change."

He took a long look in the bathroom mirror as he let the water run until it got hot. He cupped it in his hands and splashed it over his puffy eyes. He heard the one of the stall doors unlatch, and out came a man who should have given Caleb a heart attack at the sheer sight of him. But somehow it didn't. He was a different man than the one Caleb remembered. He was wearing a beaten gray flannel, wrinkled at the bottom like it was once tucked into his khaki work pants. The man had dark, almost reddish skin, dirtied with grizzly stubble from days gone without shaving.

Gently, yet sternly, he spoke. "Don't be afraid, Caleb. I'm not after you now," said Seguerra.

"Why not?" breathed Caleb.

"Personal reasons. Let's say I'm on vacation. A chance to get away from the fast-paced, the overstimulation, the instant gratification. Somewhere in the world that still felt real. It's a funny coincidence that your hideout, the one we've been searching for all this time, just happens to be located in my little podunk hometown. But that's all it is: a coincidence."

"Are you gonna arrest me?"

"I'm not interested in you anymore, Caleb," he sighed, reaching down to turn on the faucet. "Although I will say: I finally have the answer to the question I've been asking myself: 'why Caleb?'" He shook his hands dry, not moving anywhere else, but instead he continued gazing into the mirror as he addressed his young nemesis. Caleb did the same.

"'Why Caleb?'" he repeated. "Caleb is a spoiled kid, who was coddled and enabled by his ailing mother, and neglected by his rich dad who pretty much let him do whatever he wanted. Caleb never grew up, either. He's still that immature gamer kid searching for a reset button. But people are dead because of you, Caleb, and you simply won't own up to anything you've done. What's even worse is that you let your girlfriend do all the dirty work, just so your conscience can be clean; still convincing yourself that you're just an innocent bystander in all of this. At first I thought she might have been using you, but it's clear to me now that she must really actually love you. You know this, so you lead her on and use her feelings for you to control her. You don't really love that girl. She's just a character in one of your games, isn't she?"

Caleb was too frozen to offer up a word to defend himself. Seguerra turned to Caleb, looking him square in the eyes. "My partner is dead in part because of you. You don't owe me anything, but for once in your sad little life be a man, if not to honor the people who you helped murder, then for the people in your world that still care for you."

He shoved the door open. Seguerra wasn't in the bar when Caleb came out, probably having already paid his tab and left.