"Are you alright, luv?" Gillian looked over to Cal, sorrow evident in her eyes and wearess permeating through her every movement. Cal noticed how she didn't meet his eyes before she turned her gaze back to the window. Cal pressed on the accelerator as the light flashed green, risking glances toward Gillian every few minutes. Cal worried that she might get angry with him, accuse him of being overbearing, overprotective, but she barely seemed to register her surroundings let alone his presence. Her eyes stared blankly out the window, watching as houses and trees zoomed past her vision before she could truly register their details.
Gillian started when Cal's hand landed on her shoulder. Shocked, her eyes sought out his. He spared her the effort, "We're here".
Gillian's eyes left his suspiciously. She looked past Cal and saw her house. Her empty house. Fitting, because she also felt empty. Incomplete. Used. She vaguely registered as Cal unbuckled her seatbelt for her from his position crouching next to the passenger side door. "Foster?" His face creased in concern.
Gillian heard the unspoken question. "I'm fine". Fine. Fucked up, in denial, neurotic, evasive. Yep, she was perfectly fine. Cal looked unconvinced.
He offered her his hand to help her up and she took it without a second thought.
He walked with her to the door and his eyes pleaded for an invitation to stay. Gillian shifted closer to Cal and pulled him into a hug. "Good night Cal". Gillian stepped back into her house pulling the door closed behind her.
"Good night, luv" Cal whispered to the night air before he turned back towards his car.
Gillian paused just past the doorway. She simply stared into her empty home, her body still. Sighing, she resumed her steps. She didn't bother to turn the lights on. There was no point to do so anyway. The last thing she wanted to see was her reflection.
She stalked her way to the kitchen and only released her breathe once she felt the warmth of alcohol flood her system. She laughed bitterly. Like father, like daughter. The relevance of that statement was her unraveling. Gillian didn't flinch as the bottle of hard liquor shattered against the wall. She was disappointed with herself. Disgusted at her weakness.
The glint of a kitchen knife registered in her peripheral vision. She didn't allow herself time to consider her thoughts before she grabbed it. It was light in her hand, barely a burden. Her thoughts ran wild, but escape seemed to attach itself to each one. She slid down against a kitchen wall and stared at the knife, unbidden tears trailing down her face. Her mind was overwhelmed yet blank. She closed her eyes.
It was only when he got home that Cal realized that Gillian had slipped something into his pocket. He fingered the delicate gold chain, running his fingers over the jeweled flowers attached. He recognized it as the bracelet Emily had been ogling earlier in the day. Emily had begged him to get her the same one. Cal fumbled for his phone and hit speed dial.
A distant ringing registered in her mind and her eyes flashed open searching out the source of the invasive noise. Her cell phone vibrated on the table, shifting along towards the edge. She watched raptly as the phone toppled off the end of the table and clattered onto the ground. 'Cal' was flashing in the display.
The gravity of her actions hit her like a hurricane. Gillian gasped as the knife fell out of her hand to join the trembling phone. Another tear escaped her eye as she leaned her head back against the wall. She hiccupped and gasped as she attempted to repress her sobs. But it was unstoppable, inevitable. Her resolve had crumbled, and all that was left in the place of her conviction was a smashed glass of amber liquor, an unanswered call, and a dejected knife.
The ringing stopped and her breathe lodged in her throat.
As soon as it had stopped the ringing resumed and her breathe left her lips shakily. Gillian realized she was trembling and wrapped her arms around herself.
If only Cal could know just how far she had fallen from her pedestal. How far from perfect she truly was. How elusive happiness was to her, the close proximity she had with rock bottom. She had already felt the jab of her mistakes, her regrets. Felt the pain that laced itself with her movements. Had he considered the difficulty with which she opened her eyes each morning? The contemplation of not even trying. But how could he know. She never spoke a word of it. Would not express any of this. A bitter part of her mind retorted that he should have noticed her downfall nonetheless. Prevented it even. But she knows that she shouldn't blame him. She doesn't even feel like she could blame him, she doesn't even want to.
"Gillian?" Gillian looked up it wonderment. Cal? Was this rock bottom? Was he a manifestation of her mind or was her real? Was he here to save her from herself?
The panic in his eyes was real, so were his glistening eyes.
"Cal," it was barely a whisper but she felt the name echo throughout her mind.
She wonders whether he blames himself. He shouldn't, but he always does things he shouldn't. She wonders whether he is remembering his mother, and comparing his best friend to her. Looking back through his mental catalogue of microexpressions, looking for an indicator of tonight's events. She doubts he'll find one, she didn't see this coming either. At least not this soon.
A tear escapes Cal's eye as he notices the spilt alcohol and the accompanying knife.
"People who plan on ending their lives-" Cal's voice broke off and he swallowed deeply, "often spontaneously give their loved ones items they hold to be special or valuable to them before-" Cal's voice failed him again. He slowly lifted the gold bracelet out of his palm. Gillian gasped. She had slipped Cal the bracelet practically automatically. She had seen the way Emily's eyes had lit up when she saw the bracelet back at the office. The significance of her action hadn't even registered. Denial was an art.
"I'm fine" she says looking him dead in the eye, challenging him to tell her different. Her eyes were red and puffy, her voice was hoarse, her clothes were in disarray, but she dared him to call her out on any of it. This was his way out, the only one she'd be able to give him.
"You're not," Gillian's lips parted but Cal continued, "but you're going to be." The conviction in his voice was so great that she wished she could believe it. She turned her head away, but it was too late. He had seen her doubts.
"You will be okay, luv. Just look at my face, read me. Am I lying?" Cal turned her eyes toward him. When a spark of hope slowly infiltrated her eyes, he released a breathe he hadn't realized he had been holding.
Cal pulled her into a tight embrace. "You're going to be alright, luv. You're going to be alright." Gillian took a deep breath and nestled herself in the crook of shoulder. It wasn't long before her tears started rolling, but this time they were of relief.