Julian

III. March, Ch. 40

     Calvin was close to falling asleep on his bed with his hands behind his head. The loud ticking of the clock's hands reminded him it was midnight.

     He tossed and turned frantically, incapable of closing his eyes without thinking about her.

     He was flipping his pillow over for the one-hundredth time when the phone rang in the kitchen.

     Whether it was instinct or wishful thinking, Calvin knew it was Genevieve.

     He got out of bed at an alarming speed, ran across the living room in the dark, and slammed his shin on the end of a coffee table.

     Calvin's throat threatened to howl in pain, but he grabbed his shin as he picked up the phone on the third ring. "Genevieve?"

     There was a grainy silence on the other end of the phone. "Calvin?"

     He stayed quiet. Maybe it was wishful thinking.

     "How did you know it was me?"

     He smiled. That voice, he couldn't mistake it.

     But her tone wasn't alive and airy. Something was wrong.

     "Are you alright?" he asked.

     She sniffed. "I can't be alone right now. Can you come over?"

     His stomach dropped. The pain in his shin was gone. "I'll be there in thirty minutes."

     "Thanks," her voice cracked.

***

     Calvin ran two stop signs and a red light. The usually thirty minutes it took to get to Genevieve's house were cut in half.

     He parked his car behind hers in the driveway, blocking the sidewalk. Calvin knew a parking ticket would be waiting for him on his windshield, but he didn't care.

     On his way to the porch, he wondered what could have happened. What did she mean she couldn't be alone?

     And why did she call him? A woman as gregarious as Genevieve must have other friends besides him. And what of her family?

     It wasn't the time to ask those questions, but Calvin couldn't help it. It was embarrassing how little he knew about Genevieve.

     He rang the doorbell and waited. Nothing.

     After twenty silent seconds, he rang it again. Still nothing.

     Fear crackled inside him like a fire. He gave the door knob a turn, and sure enough, it opened.

     That's never good.

     He walked inside and closed the door behind him. The entire house was dark, save for light from the streetlamps coming in through the window.

     Calvin tiptoed through the hall. "Genevieve?"

     One of his hands was balled into a fist. The other ran along the wall, searching for a light switch.

     A weak voice whimpered in the living room. "Keep the lights off."

     It didn't sound like Genevieve.

     Calvin was prepared to fight against anyone who dared to hurt her. "Who said that?"

     A sniffle traveled across the hardwood floor. "In here."

     Calvin took slow steps into the living room.

     Genevieve was hugging her knees on the couch, curled up into a blanket-covered ball. That familiar baby blue shirt collar stood out to him. She was wearing his shirt.