Presenting the final part of the Spectral Advocate bonus, The Commitment. It’s been fun sharing this piece of history with you. There are some definite cringe moments with the writing side of things, but overall, the story still makes me happy.
Thanks for reading and enjoy this final chapter.
The Commitment Part 3
“I don’t want this, Caryn. I came to here to talk. To reason.” His words sounded hollow. He held tight to the sheet of paper on the table. Caryn Roberts’ blank stare shifted from him to the cream-colored printer paper. Small beads of sweat pooled along his brow despite the freezing temperatures surrounding their little chat.
“To hurt me!” Strands of thick wallpaper shredded from around the room spun wildly in her rage. Cal followed the movements, waiting for Caryn’s distorted and twisted visage to take root in the room once more.
“Have I done that?” Cal asked loudly. “If I have, I’m sorry. But all I’ve done is tell the truth.”
“Drew used me up and now he’s moved on,” the wind screamed, getting closer and closer like a constricting vise around him. It blew his moppy brown locks over his eyes and he fought to keep his eyes on the room.
“You’re wrong.”
“You don’t know him,” Cal held tight to the table, feeling the shredding wind cut around him tighter. Faster. Any closer and his back was at risk of being sliced in long strands like the wallpaper that surrounded him.
“I think I do, Caryn,” Cal’s voice boomed. “And I think he loves you very much. Even eight years later. Why else would he call me?”
The wind went into a holding pattern, the confused and torn form of Caryn Roberts resting across the table. “To… to do whatever that thing will do.”
“This?” Cal asked, pressing harder on the single sheet of paper between them. “Last resort. I came to help you. You can see that, can’t you?” He held up a finger, begging for the moment to last just one second longer, before diving back into his briefcase to retrieve another document. This one filled with print, packed tight in a dozen sheets of the same cream colored paper that he continued to hold firm against the table.
“What is that?”
Cal laid it out before the waiting Caryn Roberts, the storm quieting around him yet remained spinning through the room. “The house. Right here. Drew signed it away to the women you were less than cordial to, but it wasn’t all his to sell, was it?”
“Why would I…?”
“It’s not about the house, Caryn,” Cal admitted, laying the pen beside the document. “What it can be though is a sign. A blessing for Drew.”
“Never,” she snapped, shaking her head profusely.
“You love him, don’t you?”
Her eyes returned, wide and beaming with the life they once held. The dress remained mangled, the twisted visage slowly fading with the wind around him as the dead woman stared intently at the paper before her. The choice before her. “He’s my husband. Of course, I…”
“He’s moved on,” Cal continued, his words calm and measured. “He loves you still. Cherishes your memory. But he’s still living. Not here. Not where he shared all those time with you. I’m sure he tried. I’m sure it hurt him to leave it behind. I’m sure it hurts him even more knowing you’re still here. In this place. He wouldn’t want that for you. But he needs to live. You would have wanted that same chance, wouldn’t you?”
Frost receded, the wind all but gone from the room. Cal felt warmth return to his arm and his back, the stabbing pain of her sweet caress a fading memory. “But…”
“Caryn,” Cal pressed, pointing to the pen. “It’s time.”
“I won’t,” she replied, her words a mere whisper.
“You have to. You have to do this, Caryn. And you know it.”
Where once her cigarette wafted smoke around her, came the mist of tears from her swollen eyes. The pen lifted by her unseen hand and scrawled quickly along the paper. It was illegible, the emotion of the moment, keeping her from fully concentrating. But it was enough.
“He always made me happy,” Caryn said. “Even the cigarette thing.”
The pen dropped, rolling the length of the table to the dust covered floor of the dining room. Cal bent to retrieve it, the cold breath from his lips no longer present.
“Caryn?” Cal called out when he stood. The room was empty, his work completed in the vacant home in Maryland. He nodded slightly, satisfied. He retrieved the signed documents turning the home over to its new owners, hoping they would be able to push through the terror of their brief time in the place. The home deserved a second chance at life.
With the papers tucked neatly in the briefcase, Cal lifted the single sheet of paper on the table. Blank on both sides. His so-called last resort. He hated the feeling that he had pressed his luck, but he had faith in Caryn Roberts. Faith in her making the right choice. And in his own decision to give her that chance. Cal held the door open to the cold winter afternoon looking back once more at the emptiness within. This time with a smile.
“Thank you, Caryn.”
