Chapter 7 Caleb Moore

"So you're moving in with Hailey for the next two months?" Caleb asks me as he turns the wheel to swerve the car to turn left and right into my street.

Right now as you all might have imagined, I was with Caleb. After my little interview, as I would like to call it, Caleb decided that he wanted to drive me home. I protested a lot but can you guess what did he say in response?

No. A simple and clear no. Implying that he was going to drive me, irrespective of whether I protest or not.

"Yes, I'm. Honestly, I myself didn't get to know about it until last night. Apparently, my father had it all decided," I said as I fiddled with the hem of my flannel shirt.

"Well, that sounds great. Having to spend two months with your best friend and her hunk of a brother," he said grinning cheekily. I choked on my own saliva.

Did he just? I think he did.

"Get your head out of the gutter, Caley boy," I said eferring to his nickname I had for him and he playfully glared at me when I called him 'Caley boy'. I just chuckled at his feigned angry expression while he joined me later.

"Don't forget, you have to be at the restaurant on Monday at 5:30 p.m. And by the way dress something comfy, in which you can move around. We don't want you to be uncomfortable while cooking some brilliant food," he says sternly as he pulls up the car in my driveway.

"Got it, Captain Obvious," I said, saluting mockingly and unfastened the seatbelt. Caleb unlocked the door and I opened it but paused. I looked back at Caleb, who was looking at me seemingly confused. I gestured to my house.

"Don't you want to meet them?" I asked him as realization hit me that just like me, he was close to my dad and Mark, too.

"I mean, you won't see them for days. Before dad leaves for Japan and Mark for his college, you should at least greet them goodbye," I continued when I took in his confused expression.

"You think that is a good idea? After everything..." He trailed off clearly indicating my mother's death.

"Yes of course it is. You are like a son to them. Come on in now," I said as he nodded, smiling softly and unfastened his seatbelt too.

"Okay, then," he said and got out of his sleek black Lamborghini and I too got out of the passenger seat.

Rich people! Phew!

"So your father's home now?" Caleb asked as we both started to head towards the porch of my house.

"Yes, he said he will be home by 6 or something," I said as I checked my wrist watch which showed 6:30 in the evening and continued," He will be home now. It's already half past six."

"Where's his car then? I can't see it in the driveway?" He asked.

"Oh, he parks his car in the garage," I replied and he nodded.

We both reached the porch and I pressed the doorbell. Some shuffling could be heard from inside and the front door sprang open. Stood in front of me and Caleb, was none other than Mark. He was wearing the same outfit that he was wearing before I left. Upon seeing me with Caleb, his frown turned upwards into a full blown grin. His eyes were wide as he couldn't believe Caleb was here. I mean the last time they both met each other was almost a month ago, when things were pretty normal. He quickly opened the door wide enough for both of us to enter and as soon as we did, he enveloped Caleb in a boyish hug. You know, that weird handshake-hug thing they do when they meet each other.

"I thought you had forgotten me, mate," Mark said still grinning cheekily. Caleb and I let out a quiet chuckle at his statement.

"How can I? You are the biggest pain in my beautiful arse," Caleb said and Mark feigned mock hurt and gasped. While I just rolled my eyes. Beautiful my ass!

Oh well, he just said that, didn't he?

Stupid brain!

Just as they both continued their banter, the door to the music room opened and my father walked in. His face instantly brightened at the sight of Caleb. He quickly went over to Caleb and gave him a bear hug while Caleb tightly hugged him back.

"How are you, son?"My father asked Caleb once they pulled back.

"I have been better," replied an earnest Caleb.

"I know. We all have been better before. Her death was kind of a blow to all of us," said my father, a combination of sad and thoughtful look crossed his face.

Well, you got that correct daddy.

After my father's statement, there was a layer of awkward silence thickening in the air. The tension between everyone was so obvious and thick, I could easily, metaphorically, cut it with a butter knife. We were all consumed in our own thoughts. So after a few minutes of awkward silence, I decided to try my luck and ease the tension.

"So Caleb, are you staying here for dinner?" I asked him as I turned my attention towards the brown haired British-American guy in front of me. My question seemingly brought everyone out of their little daze and they all turned to look at Caleb, expectantly.

"Huh? Oh.. N-No I'm not. I have a meeting in half an hour," replied Caleb as he snapped out of his entranced situation.

"You said that you canceled those meetings," I said referring to our earlier conversation.

"Oh well, this one is kind of important. I just got a text from dad saying he wants me to be there," he said gesturing towards his rose gold colored iPhone 6s. Bloody rich people! Damn!

"Oh. Okay then why don't you guys have a seat and I will prepare some tea for you all?" I offer and they all agreed, nodding profusely and Mark held my gaze, silently thanking me for cutting the 'awkward tension' in the room.

We are British. We love tea more than anything. Well, I'm kind of an exception. I don't like tea, at all. My mother used to often say that I'm the weirdest family member anyone can ever have. And guess what? She was absolutely right about that. Caleb isn't exactly British. He is actually American but he shifted to Britain a few years ago with his father and his mother and younger brother shifted recently. I don't know much about his family, honestly. I haven't even seen his younger brother yet. I don't even know his name, which is kind of a shame considering Caleb is like my family. Caleb had just once said that his brother is a few months older than me. The only actual family of Caleb that I have met, is his mother. She is an absolute beauty, by the way. With perfect dark brown, almost jet black hair, and piercing sea-green eyes, that lady is a charmer. I don't think she's ever had the 'bad hair days,' to be honest. I haven't seen his father, but have heard from Stella that he is quite an intimidating man. He knows how to make a mark in business. I mean that man practically controls Caleb's life, the guy who can scare away anyone with his voluntary dangerous looks and muscles. But inside he is a pure softy. Of course, his father might be intimidating. I mean being a billionaire and having many who people who wait for opportunities to drag his business down, does that to a person.

I quickly made my way inside the kitchen and started rummaging through the drawers and shelves to gather the ingredients to make a good tea. I removed a packet of 'Twinings' Darjeeling Tea,' and sugar cubes along with a little mint leaves to create a minty taste in the tea. After all the ingredients I needed were there, I started making tea. Just the way my mother had taught me to. I remember her steps perfectly. I used to admire the way she used to cook, how can I not really remember? Starting the stove, I started making the tea, just like everyone loves, just like my mother prepares. A few minutes later, the hot steaming tea was perfectly ready. I took a sip and surprisingly, the taste of the tea was just like the way my mother's tea used to taste like. It was refreshing, hot and minty. I took the vessel down and poured the tea into the kettle. Grabbing the small box of sugar cubes and taking cups along with saucers, I gently placed them on the tray. I picked the tray up, praying and hoping I won't make a fool of myself by being the klutz that I am.

I strutted to the living room, where my dad along with Mark and Caleb were seated on the couch. In front of the couch, a coffee table was placed. I leaned over and placed the tray on the table and poured the tea in the cups. I know how many cubes of sugar dad and Mark need, so I put that many sugar cubes in their cups and turn to Caleb, expectantly. He raised his brow questioningly, and I gestured towards the tea and his face lit up with recognition.

"Oh.. Two cubes," he said.

I complied and handed them over their cups. After I handed them their cups, I turned around and again went inside the kitchen to get myself some apple juice, that was stored in canned tins. I got myself one canned apple juice and turned on my heel, back to the living room. My dad and Mark were sitting on the two individual, separate couches and Caleb was sitting alone on the large couch in middle of the two small ones. The only place left was besides Caleb, so I sat down beside him and felt him scoot a little closer to me. Me being the paranoid person that I am, scurried away from him. He seems to be conflicted by my little move, but didn't say anything else.

Soon enough, they all were pretty engaged in a few small talks, here and there. I talked only when required and asked to. I didn't even pay attention to what they were talking about. If any questions were directed to me, they would snap me out of my little daze and ask me again and I would answer. Apparently, Caleb told them about my job at 'The Basil Paradise,' and dad and Mark got pretty happy about it. They said they were proud of me trying to get normalcy back in my life.

If only they knew the damned truth!

A few minutes later, and a cup of tea later, Caleb got a call from his father asking him about his whereabouts. So Caleb took that as his cue to leave for his little important meeting held. He hugged my father and Mark and then turned to me.

"You know you can call me anytime right? If you need anything, anything at all, you know where to find me," he said solemnly and surrounded me a big tight bone crushing hug. I smiled and returned the hug with equal strength.

"Sure and yes I will Sir," I said mocking and he glared at me playfully while my dad and Mark started chuckling in the background.

He gave us one last glance and sighing, got seated in his sleek black car. We waved him goodbye and before he drove off, he rolled the window down and yelled,"Cad-Cad your shift starts at 5:30 p.m. in the evening on Monday. Don't forget. And by the way, you'll assist Stella in the kitchen. She will be ecstatic about the idea," he said and I nodded.

Working under Stella would be so much fun. She was like an elder sister to me. We used to have so much fun whenever I would accompany mom. We used to laugh, have inside jokes and much more. The rest of the staff including the other chefs and waiters and waitresses would look at us funny, but we didn't care about what they thought. Our mother always used to laugh at our silliness.

After Caleb took off, our house was back to being quiet and silent. We didn't have much to say. We went inside and I started finishing a little bits remaining of my packing. As it was the last day, before we three could have a dinner together for the next two months, I decided I wanted to cook something special for them. Something that was my mother's favorite. Something that we all had and loved. That something is nothing other than pot chicken with wild garlic and asparagus.

I started rummaging through the shelves for the second time today. I realized that boneless chicken and some of the veggies are not available. I sighed deeply and exited the kitchen. I started making my way to my dad's room in order to inform him about my supposed plans for the dinner and the sudden trip to the grocery store.

I stood in front of my dad's room and took a sharp intake of breath and knocked twice on the door. When I didn't hear a response, I gingerly turned the doorknob open and cautiously stepped inside my parents' room. It was the same like I remembered, before my mother's accident. The same grey and turquoise colored walls that worked real great in contrast. A beautiful king sized bed the took up half the size of the room that stood against the wall. A few of my mother's favorite photographs including the ones she had with some of the best chefs of the world. A large oak colored door that leads to the bathroom and another one to their walk in closet that only includes my mother's clothes and very few of my dad's. Funny thing. My mother always loved dressing up and those types of girly stuffs.

Poor thing she got me as a daughter.

My eyes fell upon the shadowy figure that was only illuminated by the small candle. He didn't even turn on the lights. He was sitting on the small single chaise lounge and his head in his hands. He was shaking, I could tell even in the dark. Small sobbing sounds escaped his lungs as he struggled to get some fresh air. I quietly walked over to him and placed my hand on his shoulder. His body immediately tensed at my touch and he froze, but didn't stop crying. He turned around and I saw him crying for the second time in my entire life. My eyes started to water, seeing his already watered eyes. His nose, eyes and cheeks were red and flushed.

"I failed her. I failed you both. I failed to protect her. I promised to be with her always. I can't even make myself to look at her picture and or you both before finding the urge to break down," he said hiccuping as sobs started worsening.

"I don't know, Cade, I feel like I'm a failure. Not only as a husband but as a father, too," he continued and I started rubbing his back comfortingly.

"No dad. It isn't your fault. You're not a failure. You have been the best and the strongest father we could ever ask for. You know, if it weren't for you, I would already have exploded. You were with us during our tough times and the fact that you are feeling guilty proves that you have already passed the best father's test. Or else you wouldn't be breaking down in front of me," I said as I sighed exasperatedly.

"You know, you always know when to say the best things to make me feel better. But I still feel like shit," my father said and I gasped. Now when I say my father never swears, I literally mean it. He never ever swears. In fact once, Mark had accidentally swore in front of my parents during dinner. My mother being the cool mother she was, let it slide. But my father gasped loudly and grounded Mark for one week straight for swearing at something as holy as dinner. Yes my father considers food holy.

That's my father for you.

"It's okay. We are all broken somewhere. Now coming back to the question, we don't have boneless chicken and some veggies I need for tonight's dinner. I am going for a quick trip down the grocery store. Is that okay?" I asked him as I know that 'trips to grocery stores' haven't exactly been the best thing in our lives. I sensed him take a sharp intake of breath.

"Why don't you take Mark with you? He could help you carry the bags and stuff?" He tried to reason with me but we all know the real reason.

"It's okay dad. Don't worry I can go by myself, you know. And besides, Mark has some serious studying to do," I said chuckling trying to ease off his tension.

"Okay sweety, just- just take care. Okay?" he said and I nodded. And I don't know what possessed me, because the next thing I know I was hugging my father and he hugged me back.

"I'll be fine," I kept on repeating as if it was a mantra. Like something to just continue to chant whether I knew it was the truth or not.

After our little moment there, I quickly broke away from our embrace and left for the grocery store.

I took my keys for my Vespa and after starting my scooter, I started riding my way there. A few minutes later, I was standing at the parking lot of the grocery store. I parked my Vespa and went inside the store.

I started rummaging through the aisles and collecting the things I need for the dinner and putting them in the trolley. After a few minutes I was done with all of the shopping. I quickly made my way to the counter. On the counter I saw a boy of around my age with dirty blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. He was eyeing my up and down with a small smirk playing on his lips. I looked at him disgusted by the way he was looking at me.

"That would be £48.65," he said in his thick accent that seemed somewhat Italian or Spanish. I couldn't make it out.

I fished out a fifty pounds bill from my pocket and handed him the money.

"Keep the change," I said to the boy, gruffly as he continued eye-raping me. I was this close to punching him in the gut.

"Thanks sweet cheeks," he said winking while I glared at him and caught hold of my bags, starting to carry them to my Vespa.

That boy was lucky I didn't punch him. He was really testing my patience. Idiot. And with that thought I started riding my Vespa back to the familiar street of my house, that I wouldn't be visiting much after tomorrow.