Vol. 1: Thirty-Seven

+ LOVING ELIJAH MCCAY +

VOL. 1: CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

My heart hurt. So, so badly. But it wasn't like the heartbreak that I'd felt that night at the carnival—I felt angry. Angry at my parents because it felt as though I had just been lied to for the last sixteen years of my life. And I wondered if my mother was alright, considering the fact that she refused to speak about the topic with me.

My mind also couldn't help but wander over to my father. What could he be thinking? Was he feeling just as defeated as my mother was? Was there anything I could say or do to make this all go away? The questions and thoughts wouldn't stop coming.

Growing up, I'd put my parents' relationship on a pedestal, trying so hard to find someone who looked at me the way that my father looked at my mother.

And the possibility of that ending made my chest clench with pain.

I needed to talk to Elijah. Over these last few weeks, Elijah had made me feel so safe, so welcomed—well, except for when he laughed at me with his friends. But I still couldn't shake the feeling in my heart that told me to call him and just talk to him.

And I can't help but wonder if that was al it would take to make me feel better, again. Seeing as my mother was definitely not an option, and Rick had his own problems to worry about. What kind of friend would I be if I were to just dump everything onto him?

I threw myself onto my sheets, soft tears falling down my heated cheeks. The overwhelming urge to scream was just at the pit of my throat, and I so badly wanted to let it out.

Grabbing my cellphone, I searched for Elijah's phone number, hitting the cal button hesitantly. The other line rang for only a few seconds—before it was picked up.

Elijah didn't sound least bit confused when he spoke, "hello?"

My heart stopped in my chest for a few seconds, and my lips began to wobble. "H-Hi." My words are whispered, almost silent, even. I readjust my cellphone in my hand, more tears falling down my cheeks.

Elijah takes a moment of silence, taking notice of the slight sniffles leaving my stuffed nose. "What happened?"

This has me crying audibly now, my forearm coming over my mouth, to stop the sounds that threaten to escape. I can't answer him yet, knowing that the only thing I'll be capable of saying, is somewhere between a sob and a whimper.

"Gage, what happened?" He presses on, his voice carrying a mixture of confusion and worry. I hadn't meant to make him worry about me—I just wanted someone to talk to.

After the sobbing began to subside, I parted my lips, a headache coming on strong from all of the crying I'd been doing. "I-It's my parents . . ." I start, feeling so pathetic that I think I might start crying again, "they're having problems."

Elijah is quiet for a moment, obviously surprised as why I'm freaking out over a failing relationship that I'm not even apart of. "So, you're crying because you're parents are having issues?"

I nod, momentarily forgetting that he can't see me. "Yes." I wanted to admit why I was actually crying—and why I was so upset. But I wasn't quite sure if this was something he actually cared to know. And I wasn't one for spilling my insecurities for no good reason.

"Is that actually why you're crying, Gage, or is there more to it?" I hadn't expected him to say this. I didn't think that I was such an open book to him—to the point where he could detect my lies through a cellphone.

I was quiet for a few moments, gathering myself, fingers pulling at a thread peeking out of worn sweater. "N-No, that's it."

Elijah let's out a light chuckle, and I almost ask him why he's laughing at me while I'm in such a state—until he speaks again. "Really?" He asks, "because I think there's something you're not telling me, man."

I scoff, catching a glance at myself in the mirror that hangs just above my dresser. I look like a complete mess. Both of my cheeks are as red as ever—which was something that I never expected, seeing as my skin tone was a darkened tan.

My hair sat atop of my head in loose curls, that threatened to become frizzy in the summer's air. My shoulder was peeking out of my sweater, the neck being awfully loose. "I-I am telling you everything."

"Alright, then. Why don't you calm down a little, and tell me what happened." His voice is so calming, so illusive, that I listen without another thought.

I start from the beginning of my mother and I's conversation, my chest calming down as the details flow from my lips. Elijah just listens—so quietly and respectfully that I have to stop and ask if he's still there.

"Yes, I'm still here." He says, waiting patiently for me to continue on with my storytelling of what had just happened.

The details flow from my lips without cause. My tears have dried up now, and my heartbeat has returned to a steady pace. Telling Elijah about it all has made me feel undeniably better—and I'm shocked at that. Not that I'd expected anything else.

I just wasn't expecting you I feel so safe while talking to him. But I guess he just had that effect on people.

" . . . and then she just kinda told me that it wasn't really any of my business, and that no matter what happened, I wasn't supposed to ask any questions." Elijah hums, probably conjuring up some sort of advice, or an explanation as to why my mother might've said this.

And I almost chuckle when he goes silent, obviously unable to come up with one.

I bring my knees up to my chest as I lie on my side, my bedroom being absolutely silent and dark—besides the light illuminating from my cellphone, and the steady sound of Elijah's voice. "I'm sure she didn't mean anything by it. Things like this are hard, she's probably just embarrassed or scared."

His explanation makes sense, and that thought alone is irritating. "I still wish that she would just talk to me about it some more, I mean I have all these questions, and I just want answers." The last bit of my words are quiet again.

Elijah waits a few more moments, as I lie there, awaiting his response. My fingers pull at that same threat that sticks out of the pocket of my sweater, as Elijah clears his throat. "You done bullshitting, yet?"

I'm taken aback by his words, my throat feeling as though a ball is being caught in the middle of it. I try to swallow it down, but fail—the swallow being throaty and audible. I wasn't expecting such a blunt sentence from him, and I'm still recovering from the question.

I know that he wants to know why I'm crying so hard—and I'm trying to convince myself that it's just because of how left my conversation with my mother went. But we both know that there's more to it.

"No." I say, short and firm.

He laughs, the sound being absolute music to my ears. "What do you mean, no?"

"I mean, I'm not done bullshitting, yet." I lie my legs down on my sheets flat, now laying flat on my back, as I speak into the speaker of my cellphone. Elijah laughs, again, and the thought of being so entertaining to him plants a faint smile on my lips.

He's done laughing now, the sound of things shuffling in the background and the dangling of a set of keys. "Look, Gage, if you don't wanna be honest with me, at least be honest with yourself."

His words are serious—true. But he keeps his tone light, and I realize that he's right.

I don't say much for the next few moments, taking a deep breath in, then a deep breath out. I know that he's waiting for me to say something—anything. Because after all, I'm the one who called him, right?

"I feel like an asshole," I whisper, and he doesn't interrupt, "I mean, how could I have missed this big of a thing? My parents' fucking marriage is struggling and I didn't even notice. How self-absorbed can I be?"

"Gage, come on you know that's not true—" he tries to reassure me otherwise, but now that he's got me to open up fully, I'm not ready to stop.

Groaning, I run a heavy hand through my messy curls. "Yes, it is!" I don't mean to shout, especially when it's so early in the morning, and I know that my mother may be eavesdropping on Elijah and I's entire conversation.

But I'm so disappointed in myself, and my inability to realize what was going on right in front of us. So disappointed in the fact that I could be so selfish.

"You aren't being self-absorbed, alright? And just because you didn't know what was going on, doesn't mean that you're selfish, either. You shouldn't be so fucking hard on yourself, man. It's not your fault—none of it." He says this so firm, like he's so sure of what he's saying.

I want to believe what he's saying—so fucking badly. But I know that deep down, the only one could ever reassure me of such a thing is my mother. And she isn't the most emotionally available person in the world, as of right now.

I sit up in my bed, scooting my bottom further up the sheets, until my back hits the headboard. I lean my head against it with a troubled sigh, tongue darting out to lick at my drying lips. "I know, I just can't stop thinking about it."

Elijah chuckles, letting out a peaceful breath. "Well, it did just happen fifteen minutes ago. Give yourself some time to process something like this. And when you're ready, try to talk to your parents about it, again."

I shake my head, eyes shutting closed. "I already know how that's gonna turn out—me getting yelled at again for asking a fucking question."

"I know it sucks right now—hold on, baby," my heart stops at the sound of him speaking to someone in the background, who he is referring to as baby—a pet name. "Yeah, I'll be right there."

The sudden realization that I'm interrupting him and his time with a girl comes crashing in, and the embarrassment is almost too much to take in. I bring my hand up to my chest, grasping at my sweater with a heavy hand.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! Am I interrupting?" My tone is low, as I know that if I were to raise it, it would wobble and shake with the fear of giving anything away.

He hums a slow no, a voice coming from the background of the call. "Hurry up, already, Eli! It's so cold without you!"

Elijah chuckles lightly, as he begins speaking once more. "I've gotta go, I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

I nod to myself, fingers getting lost in my full head of hair. "Y-Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow." Once I've finished the last bit of my sentence, Elijah has already hung up, most-likely going back to whoever he was with.

Taking a deep, yet shaky breath, I look down at my lap, burying my head in my hands.