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“What does that even mean?”
“I’m a CNA, Katie. Haven’t you heard the nurses talking about how crazy full moons make patients? They’re not lying. Mr. Gravelton did not want his colostomy bag changed, and he was scared. He got a little violent.”
“Oh my God,” she says again, only this time she sounds more upset than shocked.
“It’s fine. It will be gone in a day or two, Katie. It looks worse than it is.”
“Somehow I don’t believe that,” she argues. “Does this happen often?” she asks.
Chelsea picks that moment to put our drinks down and I’m grateful. I’m not a big drinker, but a little alcohol is much needed right now. I take a drink and close my eyes—part of me wishing I’d ordered a whiskey.
“Well, does it?” Katie prompts, proving she’s not about to let this drop.
“It can,” I hedge.
“Is that why you’re always wearing long sleeves?” she asks, studying me.
“Katie, let it go. I promise it’s fine. I have a rough job, but it’s a good one. The pros far outweigh the cons,” I assure her.
“Excuse me if I don’t agree with you,” she mumbles.
“Yeah, well, I keep my bills paid and my lights on, so I disagree with you.”
“We have a opening at the dentist office where I work. I can get you on there.”
“I like working where I do. I make a difference there. I’m going to go back to school as soon as I get the house paid off so I can afford to work less hours.”
“Callie, honey, you barely look up now.”
“I’m fine. Does Jeff have Lennon?”
“His mom. She’s not real happy with me right now.”
“I don’t believe that. Barbara Ryan adores you. I’ve always been kind of envious of your relationship.”
“Liza likes you, Callie.”
“Because I take care of her and maybe…”
“Maybe?”
“I think she’s grateful that she doesn’t have to take care of Mitch,” I admit, refusing to look at Katie.
“No shit. She should be kissing your feet for that.”
“Katie,” I whine.
“Don’t Katie me. You know I’m telling the truth. Saturday night should have showed you that.”
“I’m trying to forget Saturday happened at all,” I admit. “I should have listened to Reed when he told me not to bring Mitch to one of his shows.”
“You should listen to me and run not walk to Reed’s and tell him you love him—that you’ve always loved him.”
“I’m married.”
“There’s a reason God made divorce, Callie.”
“I don’t think God made divorce. He’s more of a forever and ever kind of guy,” I point out.
“Whatever you say. I doubt some benevolent being would want you to be miserable for the rest of your life.”
“Katie, Mitch and I are married. We’ve lost a child. We are trying to heal from that. Mitch and I were happy, though. He was good to me.”
“Are you listening to yourself? You were happy. He was good to you. You can’t build your future when you are basing it on your past. I know it hurts, honey. I wanted our babies to grow up together, too.”
My heart hurts, my stomach churning with her words.
“Katie, please don’t,” I whisper.
“Don’t cry, Cal.”
“You don’t understand.” Unshed tears sting my eyes. Shit. I was right. I should have ordered whiskey. I knew after what happened this past weekend that Katie wouldn’t let it rest. I knew. I also know she’s coming from a place of worry because she loves me. She doesn’t understand that I feel like I’m walking a tightrope. She also doesn’t know that she’s very close to pushing me off it.
“What if you just move in with me for a week or so? You could forget all about the Lane brothers for a bit and figure out what will make you happy. Decide what is going to be healthiest for you in the long run.”
“I’m catholic, Katie. Marriage is for life,” I remind her.
“Bullshit. You barely go to church.”
“I may be a shitty Catholic, but I still go.”
“I know Catholics who are divorced.”
Katie is like a dog with a bone, and she’s not about to give up.
“Yes, but they cannot remarry in the eyes of the church,” I tell her. It is a little more complicated than all that, but I don’t want to get into it. I also don’t want to explain that I want to make my marriage work. There’s something inside of me that needs to prove to my parents that I can—that one person finds me worthy enough to keep me… to love me.
“Marriage is overrated,” she mumbles.
“Does that mean you’re going to tell Jeff no?” I ask, hoping that turning the conversation back to her will keep it off me and Mitch for the rest of the night.
“What kind of marriage can we have, Cal? I mean, I’m the mother of his brother’s child. A child his brother thinks is Jeff’s. Christ, it’s all such a mess,” she says, rubbing her forehead.
