Page 59 of Disarm
But logic doesn’t stop the ache under my ribs. Doesn’t stop the voice whispering that maybe he’s sick of me. Maybe he realized I’m too much.
When my phone finally buzzes, my heart jumps, only to drop when I see it’s Dad again.
Dad
I hope you’re in class. Let’s talk later tonight.
I don’t reply. But that’s gonna be a hard motherfucking pass.
A few minutes later, another message.
Mamá
Mijo, your dad says you seemed tired last night. Is everything okay? Eat something good today. You’ll feel a little better.
That one I do reply to.
Caleb
Love you. I’m okay.
It’s at least half true.
By the time I’m walking back across the quad, the sun’s low and my chest feels like it’s been stepped on. I stop near thefountain, pull my phone out again, and scroll through Miguel’s name.Still nothing.
I could call.I want to.But what if he’s busy? What if I become the clingy one, the burden my dad already thinks I am?
The thought makes me dizzy.
I sit down on the edge of the fountain, elbows on my knees, and exhale slowly through my teeth. My hands are still shaking.
I unlock my phone again, open my contacts, and scroll until I find Dr. Kaur’s office number.
It takes three tries before I hit call.
The receptionist answers, cheerful and polite. “Counseling Center, this is Dana. How can I help you?”
My voice comes out small. “Hi. This is Caleb Burton. I… uh… I see Dr. Kaur.”
“Yes, Caleb. Hi there. Do you need to schedule your regular appointment?”
“No,” I say quickly. “I mean… yeah, but it’s kind of urgent. Is there any way she can see me sooner?”
There’s a pause as she checks the schedule. “Let me see… we can fit you in tomorrow morning at ten. Does that work?”
“Yeah,” I whisper. “That works.”
“Okay, you’re all set. Take care of yourself tonight, Caleb.”
“Yeah,” I say again. But I don’t hang up right away.
I just sit there, listening to the sound of the fountain and the buzz of campus life around me, trying to believe that tomorrow might actually help.
Once I’m finallyat my dorm room, I’m wrung out from the day. The air inside is stale, heavy with detergent and old coffee. My bag hits the floor, and I just stand there for a second, staring at nothing. Nothing feels right. I’m crawling in my skin and there is nothing that will make it go away. The hum from the mini fridge hurts my ears. The flicker of the desk lamp makes my eye twitch. The muted voices outside the door make me want to pull my hair out.
My stomach growls.Loud.
I can’t even remember the last time I ate. Maybe a protein bar on the bus last night? Maybe not. My hands shake when I grab the box of cereal from the shelf and eat a handful dry. It tastes like cardboard, but it’s something.
