Chapter 4: Tunnel Vision

4

Another year passed, and a high school classmate both Caleb and I knew got married and invited us. Caleb had a meeting that day, but at my insistence, he still went.

Watching the bride walk toward the groom in her white wedding dress, my heart was suddenly pricked. So this is what a wedding is like. When the pastor called for the couple to kiss, I looked at Caleb, and he was looking at me.

After the reception, we went home in silence. My phone buzzed. It was my dad, asking Caleb to come over for dinner this weekend.

I turned my phone, pretending not to care, and casually asked him, “Are you free this weekend?”

Caleb was watching the traffic in the side mirror. “What’s up?”

“My dad… asked if you wanted to have dinner.”

The half of his face I could see stiffened, then he said, “I’m on a business trip this weekend.”

But I pressed, “What about next weekend? The weekend after that?”

Caleb didn’t answer. As we drove through a tunnel, the streetlights faded from view.

In the darkness, I blurted out, “Caleb, do you dislike me or do you dislike my dad?”

My emotions spilled out. “Every time my dad invites you, you always have some excuse. Did my dad do something wrong?”

Caleb looked away, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. He reached out and pulled me closer. He finally spoke, but what he said was, “Let’s talk when we get home.”

Caleb’s indifference made me speak even more recklessly: “Caleb, are you ungrateful? My dad treats you so well!”

The car braked sharply. Even with the seatbelt, my body lurched forward.

Caleb leaned over, holding my chin with one hand. I thought I saw disgust in his eyes. “Yeah, I’m just a scholarship kid your family helped out.”

I couldn’t understand. “Caleb, why do you always bring up being a scholarship kid when it comes to us? Do I look down on you, or hate you?”

Caleb gradually let go of me, his eyes unfocused. His voice was a little hoarse. “But that’s what I am.”

He reached up and took out the hearing aid on his right ear. “And I’m also deaf.”

I was still reeling from Caleb’s sudden move of taking out his hearing aid when he started the car again, leaving only one sentence in the air: “I told you long ago—we’re not right for each other.”

Yes. When Caleb agreed to be with me, he said, “Even if I never love you?” He let it slip for the first time. I was stunned, then quickly nodded. So he said, “Okay. Let’s try.”

Yes. It was my fault. Some things just aren’t meant for me—no matter how much I reach.

I sat in the passenger seat, staring out as the city lights blurred past, my hands clenched tight in my lap. Caleb’s words echoed, sharp as winter air, and for the first time I realized we were driving straight into a future that neither of us wanted to claim.