Two

The pupil dilates in darkness and in the end finds light,

just as the soul dilates in misfortune and in the end finds God.” —Victor Hugo

Callie

I wake up to the smell of fire wood and cologne diluting my senses.

My face was pressed against a soft surface and I could feel the skin on my legs sticking to what felt like leather. I was really sweaty. I groan as I try to sit up, and I'm instantly blinded by the sun pouring through the naked windows.

"Fuck." I whimper as I rub the sleep from my raw, burning eyes.

And there it is. The ache, the burning of the grief that's made a home inside of me. I feel it ignite in my gut and the flame rises to my throat with each passing thought. I want to vomit onto the hardwood floor beside me, but my stomach holds only pain.

Reality was beginning to set in. The memories of the night before came crashing through me like a tidal wave, and as soon as I open my eyes I see my mother making an unwanted appearance across the unknown room I'm in. She's standing there with a worried look on her face, and in seconds I'm on my feet and gasping for air as I try to scream; but I'm in too much disbelief that I stand there with my mouth open, unable to make a sound. She still had no hair from the chemo, and was in a hospital gown just like the last time I saw her before she took her last breath.

I swear I'm having some sort of sick, twisted nightmare until I'm held by two large hands on each of my arms, holding me still as I try to fight the grip. I look up to see a familiar set of clear eyes, and I could feel the tensing in my muscles relax almost instantly. Almost.

I take advantage of that one split moment of calm to glance behind his shoulder where I saw my dead mother just moments ago, but there was nothing. She was gone. This made me feel ten times worse, somehow.

"You're okay. I promise." I hear just as I look back up into those eyes. His voice brought back the remembrance of who he was, and the circumstances we were under. He probably thought I was having a nightmare, but alas, I was just seeing the ghost of my dead mom. Same thing, I guess.

I'm immediately flooded with embarrassment.

I couldn't remember anything after throwing up on the street, but oddly I remembered having my hair held back as I did it. My mother used to do that for me when I was little every time I got sick.

"What do you remember?" He asked me after a few moments of eye contact and heavy breathing. His eyes were full of worry.

I open my mouth to speak, but close it as soon as I realize my breath is probably fucking awful. I'm in dental assisting school, so the thought of having bad breath around people left me horrified.

"I have to go." I try to say with my lips barely parted and head down.

"Your phone is in your bag behind you." Mystery man gestures back towards the sleek black leather couch I slept on. I nod in an attempt to thank him without using words, and gather my things into my shaky hands.

"Let me drive you back to the garage." He offers just as I near his front door.

"I'm just going to call a cab."

"C'mon." He argues as soon as the words leave my lips, and before I can even begin to protest I hear the jangling of his keys.

I sigh in defeat and follow behind, looking straight at his back because I have a feeling my mother is standing behind me. The hair stands up on the back of my neck as he unlocks the door and motions for me to go before him. I practically fall out the door into a spacious hallway, wanting to escape the eery presence I felt behind me. I ignore his confused stare and watch him exit after me before locking his doors. I try to ignore the way his hands look- they had rings on most of his long slender fingers. Was this dude rich? His building was the nicest I've ever seen..everything was modern and updated, it seemed so luxury.

Mystery man stays silent as we walk down the long corridor towards the elevator. There's an odd tension between us as we wait for the elevator to reach his floor. Was he annoyed? I felt like such a burden, a crazy person that he felt the need to care for. He did work in healthcare, after all. He probably felt obligated to help me. This thought sinks me even lower into the dark hole I've fallen into since I had to close my mother's eyelids. I reach up towards the light, but I keep falling.

"Thank you." I tell him while fiddling with my short, bitten finger nails as we wait for the elevator to go to the first floor. "For everything." I add, meaning it sincerely. I was still so far in my own dark abyss, but he reached for my hand when he really did not have to last night.

He was quiet for a moment, too long of a moment. I wished the elevator would move faster..

"Brandon." He says, ignoring my thanks. "You asked me my name last night before you.."

"Yes, I remember." I interrupt, wanting to erase that whole experience from my brain forever. I hear him chuckle in response just as the elevator opens to reveal the lobby. There was a huge chandelier hanging from the ceiling with dazzling lights, it was gorgeous.

I look up in awe, admiring the attention to detail everywhere in the spacious room. There was a breakfast bar, a couple of flat screens playing the morning news, and a few white leather couches filled with people who looked like they had their shit together. I envied them. It was a lot different than my studio apartment, that was for damn sure.

Brandon. I somehow just processed that he told me his name.

I liked it..he looked like a Brandon.

As we walk across the lobby to the exit I couldn't help but notice a couple of women with mimosas in their dainty hands darting their eyes to look at Brandon, then to me, then back to Brandon. Their eyes held confusion, but also disgust. I didn't blame them, though. I didn't need a mirror to know I looked like absolute shit right now.

When we reach his truck I take a moment to look it over. It was a nice deep red color, but it was pretty dented and definitely on the older side.

"Don't like her?" Brandon asks, shaking me out of my trance as I found myself staring at the familiar tire I jammed my foot into the night prior. My toe still hurt from that.

"I do, I just-" I stop to point back to the building we just came from. "For someone living in luxury apartments I guess I assumed you'd be in a Tesla or something."

He laughs and shakes his head, flashing me his dimples. I smile slightly in response, liking the view.

"Oh trust me, I'd rather save a shit ton more than I am right now living in a plain one bedroom somewhere." Brandon starts before sliding a pair of black sunglasses over his eyes and opening the drivers side door. "But my girlfriend insisted on this place."

My lips form an O as he slides himself into the front seat, slamming the door behind him while waiting for me to do the same. Of course he has a girlfriend. Why wouldn't he?

I open the door and step up into the passenger seat, buckling up slowly as my mind began to race with curiosity.

"Was she mad you brought home a random drunk at 2 AM?" I ask nervously, hating that I even cared in the first place. I just wanted to be home so I could mourn my mother in peace.

I see him shrug his shoulders in my peripheral as he reversed into the parking lot. I watch as he turns his head to look behind him, and I find myself staring at the way his jaw tightens. He had small freckles scattered across his tanned skin, grouping mostly over his nose.

"She wouldn't know. Didn't come home last night." He said, clearing his throat.

Oh.

"Oh, I'm sorry." I tuck my hands under my legs, an anxious habit.

"Don't be. You kept me pretty occupied." Brandon said, and I immediately groan.

"I'm sorry."

He shakes his head. "Stop apologizing. I'm glad I found you, there's a lot of weirdos out there at that time."

I force a small laugh. "How do I know you're not one of them?"

"Well," Brandon taps his thumbs against the steering wheel to the beat of whatever rock song is playing on the radio. My mother loved music- I don't listen to it anymore.

"I work at the hospital you were at. You were actually walking around the employee parking area." He said while running his slender fingers through his messy sleep hair.

"I've seen you there before that, though. In the actual hospital." Brandon added slowly, probably unsure of what reaction I would have. It didn't exactly surprise me. I practically lived on the oncology floor during my mother's final weeks.

"Are you a Doctor?" I ask, remembering him in blue scrubs.

"Nah. I'm a Nursing student, just finishing my clinicals."

I raise my eyebrows, genuinely impressed. I never knew that many men in Nursing.

"I bet all the girls devoured you in nursing school." I say, and instantly regret it.

Intrusive thoughts: 1

Callie: 0

I open my mouth to apologize but stop as he starts laughing. Like, really laughing. It was one of the most beautiful sounds I've ever heard. I listen in awe.

"It was definitely hard at first being around that much estrogen." He says, still chuckling to himself. "It's where I met April, though."

Ah, yes. April, the girlfriend.

She was a lucky girl.. I wonder why she didn't come home to him? He seemed like a genuine enough guy. Definitely charming without meaning to be, and not to mention hot.

I begin to rub my temples as a headache starts to creep in. Too many thoughts, too much curiosity, too many memories. I wished I could turn my brain off.

"Here." Brandon reaches one arm across me to retrieve a bottle of ibuprofen from the glove compartment.

My breath halts as I feel the warmth radiating off of his skin from how close he was to my bare legs. I hated that I was wearing jean shorts, it was uncomfortable as hell, especially to sleep in. I shift in my seat as he places the bottle in my lap along with the water that he tried to give me last night.

I waste no time and take two pills, along with the bottled water that I ended up downing in a few short seconds. I was so dehydrated.

"Drink a lot of water and relax today. And please stay away from parking garages and liquor stores." He said with a small smile while pulling into the familiar parking area.

"Yeah, I definitely don't plan to come anywhere near this place anytime soon." I reply, trying my hardest to keep the memory of my mom taking her last breath packed into the back of my brain until I was in my own car.

It was trying to force its way to the front of my thoughts. It was invading me, haunting me. I keep pushing.

"It's on the second level, row 6." I say as we get closer. Keep pushing, you can let it out soon.

"I'm really sorry, by the way." Brandon says in a sympathetic tone, similar to the nurses and doctors when she flatlined. "For your loss."

My heart drops and I can no longer keep pushing.

Tears begin to force their way to the surface, threatening to spill at any given moment as my heart begins to race.

My loss.

"Thanks." I choke, my voice betraying me by cracking before the tears finally began to spill.

Thankfully, I see my car right then and waste no time by opening his door and jumping out before Brandon even had a chance to come to a complete stop. He was going slow already, so I only tripped a little bit. Definitely worth it to get out of that situation, though.

"Hey!" I heard him yell before I close the passenger door. He immediately parks beside me and gets out.

Why the hell couldn't he just drive away? Why couldn't he let me cry in peace? I was already beyond humiliated.

"You forgot this." He said, reaching his hand out to hand me my bag that had my keys, phone and wallet in it. I run my hand over my face and take it from him with a thankful, but forced smile. I must look insane.

"You never gave me your name."

I look up at him in confusion, wondering why he even cared to know. He knew I was crying obviously, but he didn't acknowledge it. I appreciated that.

"Callie." I respond, thanking god in that moment that my voice didn't break.

"Callie." He repeated, and I instantly grew weak in the knees. Hearing my name come from his lips was something I wasn't expecting, but I wanted to hear it again and again. I never much liked my name, but when he said it, I found myself loving it.

"Thank you again." I run my fingers under my sore eyes, wiping away the fresh tears that were burning my raw skin. "I never drink, by the way. It just seemed like a good idea at the time."

Brandon nods and takes one full step closer to me. I stop breathing.

"Trust me," he says, lifting a hand to wipe a tear that betrayed me by falling. I was trying so hard to act strong, but as I felt him touch my skin, I felt as if I might melt. "I was the same if not worse every single night after my mom, too."

Yep, officially melted.

He understood. Which was nice.

"If you ever find yourself feeling down like last night," Brandon says while pulling an old shopping receipt from the back pocket of his dark jeans that fit him perfectly.

He curses under his breath after feeling the rest of his pockets, and I slowly rock on my heels as he walks back to his truck to pull out a pen from his dash.

I concentrate my gaze on his fitted long sleeve shirt that he was wearing. It hugged his biceps, and lifted a bit at the bottom to reveal the V line underneath as he reached across the seat. I quickly look to the concrete ground as heat rises to my cheeks. I look up as he makes his way back towards me, pretending I was never watching. Or admiring.

"Then come to this bar. I bartend on the weekends." He continues after scratching an address as well as something else I cannot make out on the back of the receipt.

"You can drink responsibly, this time." Brandon hands me the thin piece of paper, and I take it hesitantly.

I've never been to a bar before, but maybe it was time. I needed more friends, more support.

All of the friends I had were from high school, and most of them slowly ghosted me after my mom got sick and I could never find the time to hang out. I didn't blame them.

I had a boyfriend for a whole year, too. Again though, that ended when I stopped having the time for dates and sex. I couldn't blame him, either. I was never available..and when I finally was, I wasn't emotionally. Being near me was exhausting, and I couldn't blame anyone for not wanting to be apart of that.

"Might just have to take you up on that." I replied with a half smile, not being able to tear my eyes away from the receipt.

At the very bottom, he included his phone number.

Brandon shoves his hands in his pockets and looks to his feet.

"I know this is probably the last thing you want to hear because it seems impossible right now, but it will get easier."

Ugh.

"Thank you-" I answer a bit too quickly. He was right, it was the very last thing I wanted to hear, only because it's all I fucking hear. It's probably all I'm going to hear, and is probably all I'm going to see when I open my text messages.

"But that's bullshit." I bravely add and turn towards my car, shoving my hand in my bag to retrieve my keys.

I hear him sigh behind me, and deeper into the abyss I fall.

"Take care, Callie."

I give him a small wave and the best smile I could attempt before sliding into the seat of my Ford Focus. I place my head against the steering wheel, taking in the silence that I so desperately craved.

Then came the tears. And then came the scream. For when I rose my head and lifted my eyes up towards the visor, I see my mothers reflection again from the backseat. She had the same sad expression from earlier, it was the saddest she has ever looked.

I stop screaming to rub my eyes even though it hurt miserably to do so, and when I finally gain the courage I swiftly turned around to look at my backseat. My breathing became heavier, and my heartbeat was hammering against the inside of my chest so hard I thought I might die. Because just like before, she was gone.

I'm at the bottom of the pit now, reaching toward a light that I could no longer see.