Break So Soft: Break So Soft Duet

by Black, Stasia

  About ten minutes later, the women have carried most of the food out and we’re all sitting around the dining room table. The table is set with fancy china, silverware, crystal glasses—they’ve gone all out. Now awkward silence fills the room as we hand around a plate of dainty cucumber sandwich appetizers and Callie’s mother brings out bowls of soup.

  The soup is orange. A thick, mystery orange. I take a sip and try not to sputter. What the—

  It’s cold. Refrigerator cold. My eyes open wide but I manage to swallow it. I look to Callie only to find her eyes on Shannon. I follow her gaze. Shannon just shakes her head at Callie and dutifully swallows a large sip of the cold orange concoction. I swear, every second in this place gets weirder and weirder.

  But fine. Whatever. We’re here for a reason and it’s time to get things back on track. Not that they’ve even asked about their grandson once but nope. Can’t let myself think about that or I’ll get pissed all over again.

  “So Gerald,” my voice breaks the silence, “has Callie told you about the impressive work she’s doing at CubeThink?”

  Callie stirs her soup with her spoon, biting her lip without looking at her father.

  “Well, she definitely caught your eye,” her dad says with a smirk I immediately want to knock off his face. “My daughter always has been a looker.” He smiles at me, a sort of knowing-between-men kind of smile.

  Son of a—

  “She’s quickly risen to a position as one of the top programmers in the company,” I correct him, not caring about how clipped my tone is. My patience with this motherfucker is officially gone.

  “I can just guess how that happened,” her dad murmurs under his breath as he takes a spoonful of the soup before his face twists in disgust. “For God’s sake, Martha, what is this?”

  “It’s pumpkin gazpacho, sweetie. I saw this recipe on a famous chef’s Pinterest and knew I had to try it. Isn’t it fabulous?”

  Her father shoves the bowl away, the look of distaste not leaving his face. He grabs two of the quartered cucumber sandwiches and pops them in his mouth.

  “Did you really just intimate that your daughter slept her way to her position?” I’m really fucking hoping I heard him wrong. “Right here at the dining room table in front of her. In front of your whole family?”

  The clank of spoons against china stops. The entire room falls still and her father’s cheeks flush. Good. He should be embarrassed. And fucking ashamed of himself.

  “I— I,” he blusters, “well I—”

  “Because I know any well-mannered, cultured man would never say such a thing of his own daughter.” I glare the man down. “Callie rises or falls on her own merits within my company. She’s incredibly intelligent and talented. Just a week ago her out-of-the-box thinking and insight led to a breakthrough on a problem that had been holding back production for months. She’s only a few classes away from graduating from Stanford University. May I ask where you yourself matriculated from?”

  Her father sits up straighter in his chair, his features darkening along with the blush that’s taken up residence in his cheeks. “I— I—” he stutters again before getting his bearings, “—I’m a proud graduate of National University.”

  “I’m not familiar with that institution.” I smile affably even though the beast in me still wants to stalk to the end of the table, yank him up by his pretty as fuck shirt and drag him out to the yard where I can kick his ass.

  “It’s the premier college in the northernmost part of California,” he says stiffly. Ha. Northernmost part. He’s got to mean north of, and not including, Sacramento. The part of California where it’s almost all forests, mountains, and tiny communities. The biggest town is Redding, a nice enough little place, but you blink a couple times and you’ve passed through it.

  “Impressive,” I say, just barely managing not to let all the condescension I feel for this self-involved windbag drip from my tone. Just barely. Because goddammit, we do still need him. “But certainly you’re proud of your daughter who is only a few classes away from graduating from the number one college not only in California but the entire West Coast.”

  I look back to Callie and find her eyes shining. Like it’s the first time in her life anyone’s stood up for her. And I both hate that she’s never had that before and love that I can be the one to give it to her. Jesus but she deserves so much more than these shit parents.

  Her father makes a hmph noise and then clears his throat. “Well, when do you think you’ll be graduating from Stanford, Calliope?” he finally asks.

  Callie doesn’t immediately answer. She’s still staring at me. Her look has shifted though. If I’m not mistaken. Oh damn, the flare of her nostrils and the way her tongue flicks out to wet her bottom lip—is she thinking about what I think she’s thinking about? My cock stiffens and I reach under the table to squeeze her knee.

  “Callie?” I don’t move my hand from her leg as I nod in her father’s direction. “Your dad just asked when you think you’ll graduate.”

  “Oh.” She looks over at her father in surprise like she totally missed his question. I smirk to myself.

  “Well, CubeThink has a tuition reimbursement program,” she says, “so I’ve been planning to take one of my last few classes in the spring semester.”

  Her voice grows more confident with each word. We hadn’t talked about her future but I love that that’s her plan. Does she have any idea how proud I am of her? She’s the strongest woman I’ve ever met. Nothing keeps her down for long.

  “What’s the title of your current position?” her father asks, finally looking at her. Really looking at her like she’s worth his time and attention.

  “Senior Software Engineer.”

  “Which means?” I prompt. “Tell him a little about what you do.”

  “Well,” she starts a little hesitantly, “it means I’m working to design, build, and run the backend services powering the quadcopter drones we’re building, including APIs and data pipelines.” I get the feeling that if it had been anyone else, she wouldn’t have gone into so much detail. But like always, she’s smart. She needs her dad on her side and busting out the terminology he could never hope to understand can only work in her favor.

  He nods thoughtfully, the kind of man not willing to let on that he has no clue what the hell she’s talking about. “Nice,” he says, nodding some more. “Well, I’m really glad to see that you’ve turned your life around and are finally living up to the potential your mother and I always saw in you growing up.”

  Callie pauses at that, her cheeks stained pink like she’s not sure what to do with the praise. “Thanks, Dad. That means a lot.”

  Then her fake smile comes out, at a wattage the likes I’ve never seen before. She feels like she has to perform for these people. As if just being herself could never be enough. It pisses me the hell off.

  “I think it’s time for the main course,” her mother says gaily. Then she snaps Shannon’s name and she rises obediently to head into the kitchen. Callie rises to go help too but her Mom waves her to sit down.

  “I’m happy to help—”

  “No, sit, sit. We want to hear all about you,” her mom says. “There’s nothing going on in your sister’s life anyway.”

  Shannon obviously hears this before she slips into the kitchen because I see her posture stiffen. Callie winces on her behalf but then Shannon’s gone through the door. When she comes back in carrying a tray of plates like a waitress, her face is perfectly placid. Looks like Callie wasn’t the only one who learned how to put on a false façade by living in this family.

  Meanwhile, their mom and dad pepper Callie with questions about her new position, the project she and I are working on, and our budding relationship.

  While completely ignoring Shannon. She finally sits down with her own plate and starts to eat quietly, not looking at anyone. Nobody looks her direction. Callie obviously notices too.

  “Shannon’s graphic design company has really been
taking off this past year too,” Callie finally says. “It’s an incredibly competitive market, but she’s really making a splash and gaining new clients every day.” Callie smiles at Shannon. And for the first time since we all sat down at the table, it’s a genuine one. “She works seven days a week sometimes to keep up with the orders.”

  “And yet she’s still splitting the rent with her sister at the age of thirty-one and doesn’t have any romantic prospects,” their mother says, none too quietly as she sticks her fork into her quinoa, chicken, and kale casserole.

  “Shan’s got a boyfriend,” Callie defends and a second later I feel her jolt, like she just got kicked under the table.

  Callie looks up and Shannon is glaring at her.

  Their mother’s attention finally focuses on Shannon, though. “Why didn’t you tell me? What does he do?”

  Shannon’s jaw hardens before turning to meet her mom’s eyes. “It’s not important, forget about it.”

  Their mother clucks her tongue and smooths out the napkin in her lap. “This is your problem. All you ever do is have a series of relationships you don’t take seriously because you know they have no future. I just don’t understand it. Why date someone if you can’t see yourself growing old with them? You aren’t a spring chicken anymore and it’s long past time—”

  “I just didn’t want to deal with twenty questions.” Shannon’s obviously irritated but just as obviously trying to hide it. “Sunil and I have been dating for five months and yes, actually it is serious. He’s thirty-five and owns his own thriving business.”

  “What kind of business?” their dad asks at the same time their mom asks, “what sort of name is Sunil?”

  Can you hear a person’s teeth grind from across the table? Maybe I’m just imagining it from the expression on Shannon’s face, like she’s barely holding on to her patience. “He owns a yoga studio downtown,” she answers her dad and then pierces her mom with a glare. “It’s an American name because he’s American. Born here and everything.”

  Her mom waves a hand as if swatting a fly. “You know what I mean. That’s an ethnic name. What kind?”

  Callie puts a hand on her head, again looking mortified.

  “A yoga studio?” their father asks dubiously. “That doesn’t sound like a very solvent business. And two people who each own their own businesses dating…” He shakes his head. “Not a good idea. Do either of you even have insurance? A retirement plan? What kind of savings are you really able to establish if you’re living month-to-month in that dump you girls share?”

  “Oh Gerald, don’t worry, Shanny’s flings never last that long,” their mom says with a flippant laugh, covering her mouth and leaning into me and her husband’s side of the table with the pretense of whispering a secret. “We’ll just hope the next one has more promise.”

  Callie keeps watching her sister like she’s waiting for her to do something, waiting for her to stand up and walk out of the room any second at this shit they’re pulling. But Shannon just sits there and continues eating, eyes glued on her plate.

  Callie seems disappointed and at the same time, she follows Shannon’s example, back straight, always keeping her mouth stuffed full of chicken and quinoa. And looking like she wishes she were anywhere but here.

  And as much as I want to stand up and flip the table, tell her dad to go fuck himself, it’s not what Callie needs right now. In fact, if her white knuckled grip on her fork is anything to go by, it’s taking everything she has to hold herself together. Me showing just how pissed I am won’t make it any easier on her.

  And I swore to myself that I’d be whatever she needed on this trip and right now she needs calm and steady. She needs to not have to deal with her asshole parents. So for the next twenty minutes, I carry the conversation and to my relief, Callie begins relaxing beside me the more I regale her parents with stories of famous acquaintances and international travel. All the external shit I know will impress shallow idiots like them.

  Shannon brings out key lime pie for dessert and Callie is tense again beside me.

  “So Mom and Dad,” she cuts in when there’s the briefest lull in conversation, “can I show you some pictures of your grandson? Charlie’s getting so big lately and he’s the most adorable little kid. Really smart too.” Another plastic smile. “He’s definitely a Cruise.”

  She hurriedly brings out her phone and pulls up the most recent pics of her son. I get the briefest glimpse of the little boy flipping through a board book. He’s looking up at the phone and the pic was snapped mid-giggle. Damn, he’s a cute kid.

  Callie’s features are a mix of pained and loving as she looks at the phone before giving it to her mom. Her mom’s eyes soften the smallest bit before she hands it over to her husband. He observes the phone for a moment and then nods once.

  “His custody hearing is in a couple of weeks,” Callie says tentatively. “It would mean a lot to me if you guys were there.”

  Her dad’s quiet a long moment, still looking down at the picture on the phone.

  I can feel the tension radiating off Callie. Jesus Christ. Why is this bastard making such a production out of this? He has the most fabulous daughter in the universe. What the hell is wrong with him?

  Finally her dad hands the phone to me to give back to Callie. Then he looks Callie directly in the eye and gives another decisive nod. “We’ll be there and speak on your behalf. You’ve really turned your life around and I can respect that. You might have made a mess of things a few years ago but everyone deserves a second chance. One chance, mind you,” he holds up a single index finger and his eyebrows narrow in warning. “You only ever get one second chance with me.”

  Callie nods repeatedly, her eyes moist. “You won’t be sorry, Daddy, I promise. I’ve turned my life around for good. I’m not that girl anymore. You’ll see—” She cuts off mid-stream, her eyes dropping.

  Then she picks up her fork and shoves a bite of pie in her mouth as if to forcibly stop herself from simpering any more to the father whose so obviously let her down so many times in the past.

  But I got the glimpse of the girl she must have been. So desperate for a father’s approval. This goddamned fucker. Because it’s obvious he rarely gave it.

  Callie shifts uncomfortably in her chair and then glances my way, cheeks going pink. Is she embarrassed for me to have witnessed that?

  I smile encouragingly. She should know I would never judge her. The only judgement I have are for the people who should have loved her better.

  She downs the rest of her pie like she can’t get this horrible lunch over fast enough and I do the same.

  As soon as I down the last bite she all but catapults off her chair. I expect her to take me up to the room where we’ll be staying but oh no, the women have to do the cleanup.

  Meanwhile Gerald claps me on the back and invites me to his, “man cave” downstairs in the basement. He actually calls it that. So I’m subjected to his company for another forty-five minutes. Now that he’s given his blessing on the custody hearing, I know I have to play nice. So even though I’d rather bore a hole through my head, I put up with the pompous ass.

  But forty-five minutes is all I can stand. He’s just pulled out an album of his bi-annual fishing trips when I beg off, saying I want to go check on Callie.

  When I get to the kitchen, her mother says she’s gone upstairs with a headache. I doubt it was even an excuse. Even a short amount of time in these people’s presence is enough to make anyone’s head ache and we’ve been here for hours.

  I walk into the room Shannon said was Callie’s but I don’t see her. I’m about to head back out to look for her elsewhere when a door I thought just led to a closet opens and she comes out fresh from the shower. With only a towel wrapped around her body.

  She doesn’t see me because the door opened outward, hiding me. But I can’t go another second without my hands on her so I wrap my arms around her from behind, breathing in her fresh, clean scent.

  “Save
me,” I whisper.

  She yelps in surprise before turning around and smacking me on the arm. “You scared the shit out of me!”

  The next second, though, her whole body immediately relaxes into me. She breathes in deep like it’s the first deep breath she’s been able to take in hours.

  “I’m the one who needs saving.” She face-dives into my chest. I try to focus on her words. Really I do. But all half of my brain can think is: Naked under the towel. She’s naked under the towel.

  “I can’t handle them!” she goes on and I force myself to focus. “I don’t remember them being like this. I swear. They’ve gotten all…”

  She rams her forehead into my chest again, “I don’t even know what to call it. They’re just the worst. The whole time we were cleaning up, Mom was pecking at Shannon about her weight, what she was wearing, Sunil’s family, her income, his income. I swear, it just never stops.”

  I hold her to my chest, massaging her scalp. “I know, baby. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” I can’t say it enough times. Thinking about her bastard parents is enough to keep my libido in check, that’s for damn sure.

  She pulls her phone out of her pocket to check the time and then groans. “We haven’t even been here for four hours yet and we’re supposed to last the whole weekend? We got them to agree to come to the custody hearing, so we can go home now.” I look up at him, an awkward angle since I’m so close. “Right?”

  I just curl her into me. If she really wants to leave, God knows I’ll call the towncar and we’ll be gone this second. But it’s probably not the wisest idea and she must know it too because she just sinks against my chest.

  “Your mom said we should rest up for dinner,” I tell her. “It’ll be ready in an hour and a half. And that you should wear something nice because in her words it’s a formal dinner.”

  “It’s so fucking ridiculous.” She wraps her arms around my middle and squeezes. “We just finished one meal and now we have to go back through that torture so soon. Again? I don’t wanna,” she whines in a mock childish voice.