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“Callie,” I repeat, unable to confess that she’s the main reason I’m still here.
“Gotta go, Reed,” she says, and I nod, because I know she needs to. I grab the blanket and take her hand, leading the way to my bike, wishing I could take her away from here.
26 Callie
“What has you so happy,” I mutter, my head splitting. I sip my coffee as if it is the meaning to life and maybe this morning it is. I’ve got to be at the flower shop for work in an hour and I’m praying the coffee will help wake me up and hopefully be kind enough to take the edge off my headache.
“Jake’s coming back home,” Katie gushes.
“For good?”
“Sounds like. That guy that was going to sponsor him, dropped out when Jake didn’t make a good showing in the last rodeo.”
“I don’t think you’re supposed to sound so happy because he failed, Katie,” I laugh.
“I mean, I’m upset for him, because he’s frustrated and sad, but he’s coming back to Macon, and I love him. I can’t pretend to be sad about that, Callie,” she says, looking uncomfortable.
“Do you ever regret not going with him, Katie? I mean, you said he calls you every night asking you to come out to Austin.”
“I would but…”
“Your grandmother,” I nod.
“Jake doesn’t understand. He says Grandma will be fine, but he hasn’t seen my grandmother when she’s having a bad day.”
“Unless you live it, you don’t understand,” I respond. I truly do understand. Katie’s grandmother isn’t sick—not really. She’s older, though. She’s all Katie has in the world. Katie’s mother and father are in jail somewhere for armed robbery. If it wasn’t for her grandmother, Katie would have been in foster care or a state home. Katie’s grandmother took her in when she was sixty. That was twelve years ago. It’s not many people that would be willing to take on a six-year-old daughter—especially when they are that old. Now her grandmother is seventy-two, her vision isn’t that great. She doesn’t get around that great because of arthritis and she doesn’t drive at all.
Katie does everything for her, from grocery shopping, cleaning, and cooking. She even drives her back and forth to her doctor visits. If she left Macon, her grandmother would have no one, but a friend from church, that might help her here and there. There’s no way Katie could live with herself. I get that because my mother is the sole reason I haven’t tried to leave Macon since graduation.
I let out a breath, because I know Katie feels guilty, but she has a good reason for wanting Jake to come back to Macon.
“Are you going to tell him?” I ask her and she looks down at the soda she’s drinking. She grabs the straw and starts moving it around the glass like she’s stirring it, when really, she’s just nervous and unsure.
“I will if he stays, Cal.”
“He deserves to know, Katie,” I tell her again. I’ve told her the same thing for the last month.
“If I tell him I’m knocked up, Callie, he’ll stay for the baby.”
“Katie, you know he loves you, honey.”
“Not enough to choose me—which means if he stayed because of the baby he would grow to hate both of us. I don’t want to lose him, but I couldn’t stand it if he hated me either.”
“If he finds out you’re pregnant and you never told him, he may do exactly that,” I warn her—for the hundredth time.
“You’re so calm. But what if things didn’t work out for you Callie? What if you turned up pregnant? Would you have all the answers then?”
I wasn’t expecting the sucker punch, I truly wasn’t—not now and not from Katie.
“That’s crazy. I’m not pregnant I started my period, and that part of my life is over.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought that up,” Katie says, and she does sound apologetic, but it doesn’t help this sick heat that has swamped me, nor the urge to vomit that rises inside of me.
I never want to remember prom night. It was the worst night of my life. After I saw Reed and Callie, I was gutted. I had to get away. I remember running and the next thing I knew I was collapsed on the ground crying my eyes out. Mitch carried me to his vehicle and dried my eyes. We drove to the old drive-in, and I drank my troubles away while some horror movie played on the large screen. Every time some dumb bitch with big boobs got slaughtered on the screen, I imagined it was Chasity Newberg. Mitch nursed a beer, not touching the vodka he gave me to drown my sorrows. He promised he’d be the sober driver. He was the perfect gentleman…
Until I begged him not to be.
It was a stupid, drunk decision, that I regretted the moment it was over. It was a decision that Mitch should have stopped me from making. He didn’t and I didn’t stop myself. Now, it will always be between Reed and me. How will he react when I tell him? Will I ever tell him?
