Page 61 of Exiled

You do not bother to turn, to look at me. “Oh yes. It was unhealthy, and I knew it. But I couldn’t help it. My work suffered. I fucked up a rather important deal because I was watching you rather than doing my due diligence. But I couldn’t help it.”

“Why? What was it about me?”

A sigh. “Just... you. Everything. I do not know if I can explain it, even now. Something in you spoke to something within me. I was impatient for you to grow up, for you to be... ready for me. I never interfered in your life, nor that of your parents. I wanted to. I wanted to drive you to school so you wouldn’t have to walk. I wanted to feed you. Stop you from eating trash. A body like yours, or rather a body such as I knew you would have one day... it deserved better treatment than you were giving it. You were just a teenage girl, so you knew no better. But I wanted better for you.”

Another sigh. Knuckles tapping on the window. Toe tapping on the floor.

“What was it about you?” you repeat. “Whatisit about you now? I don’t know. I’d never even spoken to you. But I...knewyou. I knew you. I knew the books you liked. Classics, fiction, philosophy. Hemingway, Voltaire, Rousseau, Sartre, Tennessee Williams, Hawthorne, Shakespeare, the Romantics... you read so much, so widely. You possessed so much intelligence, so much raw beauty and potential. I wanted it all. I wanted to... shape you. It wasn’t sexual, not then. As I said, I am not a predator. Not of that sort, at any rate. If I was not, as I have already said, a good man, I was not so depraved as to prey on fourteen-year-old girls.”

“I believe you, Caleb,” I say. And I do. I do not know why, but I do.

You turn, finally. “You believe that?” Eyes narrowed, jaw muscles flexing, a breath. “You believe that I never meant you harm? That I did not then, and do not now?”

I must consider my next words carefully. “I believe that you were not a predator of young girls. That is what I meant.”

You hear what I do not say, however. “But you do not believe the rest?”

“Given all that has occurred between us, it is difficult. You shot and nearly killed Logan—youmeantto kill him. You kidnapped me out of my home. You tranquilized my dog. I was bound and gagged and blindfolded. You have mixed truth and lies and omission for so long that I do not know how to believe anything you say.”

You frown at me, stare at me. “I suppose I cannot fault you for that.” You brace your spine against the glass, cross your arms over your chest. “But believe, if you are able, that everything I’m telling you is the truth. Nothing left out, nothing false.”

“I will try.”

“That is all I ask.”

“I have a question, though.”

“What?”

“Why now?”

You let your head thud back against the thick glass, let your eyes slide closed, as if summoning an answer from deep within. “It is time. For many reasons.”

“How illuminating.” My voice is flat, sarcastic.

You snarl. “You wish the truth?”

“Yes—”

“Then donotmock me, Isabel. Do not forget who I am.” You pivot, resume your earlier pose, leaned against the window, facing out, but now with your arms still crossed. “We met for the second time by accident. If you believe nothing, believe that. I hadn’t meant to ever come face to face with you again until you were at least eighteen. But then, I believe it was the day after your sixteenth birthday—you saw me in a café, and approached me. I tried to be rude, hoping you would go away. For your own good. I was not ready for you, nor you me. But you were persistent. You sat down at my table, ordered an espresso and apain au chocolate. You carried on as if we’d always known each other. You told me your name, and asked me mine.”

You pause for so long I wonder fleetingly if you’ve fallen asleep. But you continue, only now your voice is so low I can barely hear you. I move closer.

“You are responsible for Caleb Indigo, you know. I’ve never told anyone that, but it’s true. You asked me my name, and I panicked. I didn’t want you knowing who I was. I didn’t want you finding me, find out that I was a pimp, and a former prostitute myself. It wouldn’t have been hard for you to find out. None of it was secret. I don’t know. I just... panicked. When I was a prostitute working for Miss Amy, there was a man. A client of hers, and thus, of mine. He was a vicious, brutal son of a bitch. Completely cold. Never gave away anything. Nothing. His name was Caleb. He would show up for an appointment with me, and he would just... use me. I was never a small or weak person, but he—” Your voice cracks. You suck in a breath. “I envied him his ability to obscure all of his emotions, all of his thoughts. When you asked me my name, his came to mind. So I told you my name was Caleb. ‘Caleb what?’ you asked me. You were wearing the blue dress. You know the one. Indigo. Not just blue, but indigo. And thus, Caleb Indigo was born.”

“That is difficult to believe, Caleb.”

“I know. But yet it is true.”

“The original Caleb. What happened to him?”

You make a sound, somewhere between a grunt, a growl, and a hum. A strange sound. Animal, rather than human. “I killed him. After Amy died and I went into business for myself, he came looking for me. I refused him. He tried to force it, and we fought. I won. Made sure no one would ever find him. Although a man like him, I don’t think anyone would ever look.”

“So you told me your name was Caleb Indigo.”

“Yes. Because I was... I didn’t want you to know Jakob.” A brief silence. “So then we began meeting at the café. Once a week, twice. Sometimes more. I continued the charade of beingCaleb. Acted out a persona that wasn’t me. Pretended to an emotionless façade I did not feel. Never told you anything about me. I never touched you. It was clear you had a crush on me, an infatuation. I tried not to encourage it, and even made it clear you were too young. But I couldn’t make you stop coming to our café, and I couldn’t stay away, knowing you would show up looking for me. You made advance after advance on me, and I turned you away. Made you angry, time and again. But always you came back. You couldn’t stay away and neither could I. This went on for months. And during those months, I found the Caleb persona useful. I pretended to be Caleb more and more. Caleb was... calm. Cool. Powerful. I could hide behind him. He wasn’t the orphan, the homeless boy. He wasn’t a whore. He wasn’t weak. He wasin control. Ilikedbeing Caleb.”

A pause, a breath, and you clear your throat. Begin again. “And then something unforeseen happened.”