by Julia Crane
Emma said, “What if we came with you, Mom?”
“No!” Callie said sharply, slamming her fork down to the plate with a loud clang. “We just got here. Can’t we stay put for a while?”
“Callie, don’t be like that,” Emma said, resting her chin in her hand and ignoring her food. “It would be lovely to go somewhere warm and relaxing. As a family.”
“I’m sick of warm.”
Braden kicked her foot under the table, and then gave her a tight-lipped head shake when she glanced at him. His expression told her to stop being stubborn. Four years older, ages and ages wiser.
Callie lowered her eyes and watched the silver prongs of her fork dance in the runny yolks on her plate. “I’d just like to rest for a while, Mom.”
“We can rest for the next five days, love.” Emma finally picked up her own fork and dug in. “Then, we’ll leave with Gran. It will be a nice vacay.”
The fact that her mother thought it was cool to say “vacay” made Callie want to toss herself through the window over the kitchen sink. Instead, she didn’t say anything.
There was no arguing with her mom.
Callie tore through her clothes trying to find something to wear for her lunch with Avery. She was super excited to see her best friend, so she wanted to look her best—especially after months of not having a chance to dress up.
After trying on several outfits, she settled on an off-the-shoulder purple dolman sweater and her favorite pair of jeans. She rummaged through her jewelry and lifted out a chain layered with quartz and amethyst crystals. Holding it to the light coming through the window, she ran her fingers across the stones and smiled at the memory of her mother haggling for a lower price at a stand in Mumbai.
After some last minute touch-ups of her hair and make-up, Callie took a final glance in the mirror. She’d piled her dark hair in a messy bun and put on just a trace of neutral make-up, but just that little bit made her feel normal for the first time in a long time.
Callie found her mother sitting at the kitchen table, staring listlessly into a mug of coffee. She waved a hand in front of her mom’s face. “Mom, I need your keys. I’m meeting Avery for lunch.”
“On the counter.” Her mother’s voice sounded detached, and she didn’t bother to look up from her coffee.
Callie hated to admit it, but she was starting to get worried. Her mother really seemed to be in a funk this time. “Do you need anything while I’m out?”
“No.” More listless staring.
“Okay. Well, I should be back by dinner time.” Callie cocked her head and narrowed her eyes. “If you need me, just call.”
Her mom didn’t even move. “Have fun. Say hello to Avery for me.”
Callie found the keys in an old, ceramic bowl on the kitchen counter. It was a crudely-made, red clay dish Braden had supposedly crafted in grade school. The thought made her pause at the back door and wonder where her cousin was, but she shrugged it off and left. She was too used to having him around.
It was chilly despite the sun. She was glad she’d decided to wear a sweater; San Diego weather could be bipolar. Callie followed the curving sidewalk around the corner of the house and onto the black asphalt driveway, where her mother’s fire engine red BMW sat on the small side pad.
She wasn’t sure why her mom bothered keeping it—they weren’t home enough to use it. Maybe once or twice a year. Gran kept it tuned up and took it for a wash every once in a while, but she had her own little eco-friendly car, so the Beemer just sat. Like their stuff in the storage unit.
Sliding behind the wheel, Callie slammed the door shut and sat for a moment, breathing in the still-new car smell. She was immensely relieved to be out of the house. The older she got—and the longer they chased her mom’s insanity—the more she realized she didn’t know how to talk to her mother.
It’s strange to see Mom so down, Callie thought, letting her head rest against the seat. Although, she’s done this to herself chasing after a crazy dream.
She couldn’t help the slide of bitterness in her mind.
Rolling her shoulders, Callie forced herself to relax. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths before she turned the key in the ignition, flipped on the radio, and put the car in reverse.
Twenty minutes later, Callie pulled into the familiar parking lot of Luigi’s. It was a stereotypical pizza joint with red-and-white checked awnings on a concrete façade that could have used a good power wash. It was a popular hangout for others her age, and it had the best pizza in the area.
As Callie stepped from the vehicle, she noticed Avery bouncing out of her four-door, beat-up Honda a couple of spots over. Callie barely had time to straighten before her best friend appeared and pulled her into a tight hug.
Avery was a petite and curvy girl. She had long blonde hair that was parted in the middle and layered to frame her oval face. Her outfit was just as eclectic as it always was—a pair of wide-legged pedal pushers and a brown-and-white striped shirt beneath a sweater vest. The girl always managed to take “nerdy” and make it look good.
Callie was relieved to find her best friend hadn’t changed much. “You look great.”
Avery’s deep blue eyes twinkled as they swept over Callie. “And you look like you need to eat a whole pizza by yourself. You’re wasting away down there in the jungle.” She laced her arm through Callie’s and tugged her towards the restaurant.
“Don’t get me started on third-world food.” Callie groaned as she pushed open the glass door. “Can we not talk about my involuntary travels? I just want to hear inane teen gossip while I eat too much cheesy goodness and drink too much soda.”
The music blaring from the old-fashioned juke box in the corner was so loud they would have to speak up in order to hear each other. It brought a smile to Callie’s face. She really missed being home.
Glancing around, she saw the usual suspects—all kids she knew from her childhood. A couple of guys at a table in the corner yelled hello, and she waved back self-consciously. She felt socially awkward after being away for so long.
They settled into a booth beneath one of the front windows, and Avery opened a menu. “What do you want to eat?”
Callie didn’t bother. She knew exactly what she wanted. Plus, the menus were always disgusting. “Luigi’s special, of course, and a Pepsi.”
“Soda is so bad for you.” Avery narrowed her eyes, glancing at Callie over the top of the menu.
“Yeah, and pizza is a vegetable.” Callie rolled her eyes. “I’ve been eating and drinking things I can’t even pronounce, Avery. Allow me my Pepsi.”
Avery giggled. “Fine.”
“Do you know what you want? I’ll go order.” Callie thought the boy behind the counter was cute and wanted to see him up close.
Avery tapped a finger—tipped in electric blue—against her lips, then tossed her menu back on the rack. “Luigi’s Light and an unsweet tea.”
“Again with the diet foods?” Callie cocked a brow.
“Shut up. We can’t all be naturally as thin as a praying mantis,” Avery said fondly.
Callie strolled to the counter, where the guy with curly black hair and sparkling blue eyes gave her a winning smile. She felt her face flush. I’ve been gone way too long.
“What can I get you?” he asked, his voice so low she had to lean across the counter on her elbows to hear him.
She rattled off the two orders, only tripping over her words a few times, then watched as he poured their drinks. His blue jeans were snug and so was his black band T-shirt. Callie had always loved that look.
“That’ll be twenty-five,” he told her, hitting a button on the cash register. “Leslie will bring it to your table when it’s up.”
Callie paid him, then blushed one more time as he thanked her and winked.
“Who’s that?” Callie asked, tilting her head to the counter as she slid back across from Avery.
Avery glanced that way. “Jonathan. He goes to the all-boys school nearby. H
e just started working here a couple of months ago. A lot of the girls are interested in him, but as far as I know he’s single.”
“I can’t get into a relationship, anyway,” Callie sighed with another longing glance at Jonathan. “We’re leaving again in a few days.”
“What?” Avery screeched, reaching across the table to grip Avery’s arm. “You just got here!”
“Tell it to my mom,” Callie said bitterly. She shrugged. “Don’t wanna talk about it. Tell me all about Ian. Where did you meet? How did he ask you out? I want all the details.”
Callie couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy as Avery rambled on about how perfect Ian was, with a dreamy look on her face. She envied Avery for her normal high school existence, and her ability to experience everything that life had to offer.
The closest Callie had gotten to a boyfriend was that twelve-year-old tribal boy in Papua New Guinea who had given her an amethyst crystal and a kiss on the cheek after she’d saved his sister from the falls.
Callie sighed, brushing away the memory.
She couldn’t hate her best friend for being happy.
“Yesterday, he took me to a candlelit dinner at that fancy Indian restaurant downtown, you know, the one with the huge Koi tank? And he gave me this gorgeous necklace and matching earrings….”
On the other hand, Callie wanted to throw her soda glass at the wall and scream.
“Do you want to go to the mall?” Avery asked as they left Luigi’s.
The sun had set while they were inside, and a chill had fallen. Callie could almost see her breath in the orange light of streetlamps.
“No, not tonight. I’m exhausted.” As she said it, Callie realized she really was tired. Her body felt boneless and weary; she just wanted to crawl in bed. “Maybe tomorrow?”
“Of course.” Avery smiled brightly. “How about I come pick you up at noon?”
“Sounds great.”
They hugged, and Callie stood, waving as Avery pulled away.
Her phone rang as she was navigating onto the busy highway. Callie fumbled blindly in her canvas satchel, keeping her eyes on the road as she searched for the phone. Her fingers finally grasped it and she yanked it out, glancing at the screen.
Braden.
“Hello?”
“Hey. Where are you?” he asked.
“The interstate. Why?”
“Gran was wondering if you were eating dinner with us.”
Callie glanced at the clock—it was after seven. “Nah. I just left Luigi’s. Avery and I sat for a while and I only recently finished my pizza. I’m not hungry.”
“Okay, I’ll let her know.” He paused. “What’s wrong?”
Callie snorted. “It gets old, you know. You knowing me so well.”
“You shouldn’t broadcast your feelings like the Channel 5 news.”
Callie laughed—a deep belly laugh that she felt down to her toes. It was nice. “Yeah. No kidding.”
“Seriously, Cal. What’s going on?”
Taking the off-ramp that would lead to her grandmother’s house, Callie shrugged even though Braden couldn’t see her. “Stuff.”
“Wanna talk?”
She paused a minute too long.
“Yeah, you do. Come to my room when you get home.” Braden hung up.
“Ugh,” Callie said, tossing her phone in the general direction of her bag. She gripped the steering wheel in both hands and stared at the red light swinging in the breeze.
Too many people were trying to understand what was running through her head. They wanted to ask questions and get hard answers. But the truth was, Callie wasn’t sure there were any answers.
There were just questions. Why did Dad have to die? Why does Mom think eternal youth is the answer to her problems? Will she ever stop looking? Can I actually leave her alone when I’m old enough to live on my own?
Because no matter which way she thought about it, Callie wasn’t sure she could let her mom go at it alone.
Braden was lounging on the bed with his sneakers propped on a pillow and a graphic novel open on his chest. He turned his dark eyes to Callie as she appeared in the open doorway.
“Close the door.”
Callie stepped inside and obeyed, then picked her away across the clothes-strewn floor to take a seat at the desk.
Braden’s room was actually his room. When he was fifteen, his Dad got thrown in prison for a couple years for trafficking cocaine and he lived with Gran. When his Dad got out, they tried to make it work in a little apartment, but Callie’s uncle spiraled into drug dependency even worse than before. Braden packed all of his belongings—which wasn’t much—and moved back in with Gran.
A year later, he started traveling with Callie and her mom. Callie was thirteen, and Braden sixteen. Even though he was nineteen, he’d yet to leave them. He decided to take a year off before he started college to continue on with them. She was grateful—she would be miserable if it were just her and her mother.
Her cousin pushed his wire-rimmed glasses up on top of his head so that his curls were pointing at the ceiling. It gave him a slightly insane look. “So?”
“Nothing to talk about.”
“Yes, there is,” Braden retorted, clapping his novel closed and sitting up so that his back rested against the black headboard. “Your lower lip is hanging halfway to your knees.”
Callie groaned. “It is not.”
He just smirked.
“It’s just the same old thing, Braden. No more, no less.” She threw her hands up. “Avery has a boyfriend.”
“Ah.” He didn’t say anything more, but his eyes twinkled.
That irritated Callie.
“Whatever.” Callie’s cheeks burned. “I’m over it.”
“Obviously not.” Braden adjusted the pillow behind him and settled against it. He stared across the space between them, his hands clasped lazily on his abdomen. “Maybe you should stop wishing for a life you can’t have and enjoy the life you’re already living?”
She dropped her gaze to the floor as tears burned in her eyes. “I’ll never enjoy the life I’m living.”
“Only because you think that way,” Braden responded softly. “It’s the best damn example of a self-fulfilling prophecy that I’ve ever seen.”
“What’s that?” Callie asked, her brow furrowed. Despite having only a high school diploma, her cousin was eerily intelligent. He liked to tell people it was just from his love of books; Callie knew it was an effort on his part to not turn out like his deadbeat dad.
“Self-fulfilling prophecy. When you think something is going to happen a certain way and you worry, worry, worry about it, you make that something happen.”
“So…” Callie drew out the word, trying to come up with an example.
Braden grinned. “If you think you’re going to be unhappy, you will be.”
“What if I think you’re a nerd? Does that make you one?” Callie shot back, and then giggled.
Braden touched a finger to his temple and saluted her. “Joke all you want, kid. But only you can control your destiny.”
His words stuck with her as she got ready for bed. They were still foremost in her mind as she drifted off to sleep with the shadows of the trees playing on her walls.
Only you can control your destiny.
February 12th, 2009
Nowhere, Australia
Funny. Our last trip was a bust. Are we surprised?
No. We are not.
At least at the last place, we had running water and civilization. I don’t even know where the heck we are now. Mom rented some huge off-road truck and we drove for two days. I’m writing by flashlight in a tent I’m thankful Braden knew how to put up while the thunder cracks outside. I just hope the rain doesn’t start leaking through, that would SUCK.
Mom is certain this is gonna be the one. She always is, which is why I’m starting to be always CERTAIN IT’S NOT. But why listen to the whiny daughter?
Just continue to chase that pi
pe dream, Emma Bishoff. Continue to waste my life because you can’t live without Dad.
God, I hate thinking about Dad. But, I’ve been doing it a lot lately. It’s almost the anniversary of his accident. February 29th. Of course, he had to freaking die on a leap year so that his family couldn’t properly mourn his date of death every year. Just like him and his stupid practical jokes.
No leap year this year again. Three more years til.
Anyway, enough morbid. Dad is dead, Mom is psycho.
It’s some kind of river this time. According to Mom’s “sources”—née GOOGLE—the river is so small nobody knows where it is or how to find it, and the Aborigines call it something that translates to “River of Agelessness” or something.
I hope the thing is DRIED UP.
Braden is kicking me and telling me to “turn off your stupid, girly flashlight and go to sleep, you’re bugging me.”
Just because my flashlight is hot pink and has flowers on it DOESN’T mean it’s stupid :P
Avery picked her up at twelve-thirty—half an hour late, which was pretty normal for her.
“It’s about time,” Callie griped as she fell into the battered passenger seat of her best friend’s car. She wrinkled her nose as she buckled the ratty seatbelt—it smelled like cheese. Why in the world does it smell like cheese? And meat?
“I lost track of time. You know how it is.” Avery shrugged, signaling as she turned out of the driveway and onto the main road.
Actually, Callie didn’t know how it was. She hated being late for anything—the complete opposite of her happy-go-lucky mother. Instead of arguing with Avery, Callie changed the subject. “Why does it smell like tacos in here?”
Avery burst out laughing. “Does it? I guess I just don’t notice it anymore. Ian works at Taco Bell.”
“Um. Ew.”
“Whatever. It’s a job. What do you have?” Avery shot back.
“A set of goat-skin drums from Morocco,” Callie quipped.
“I’m glad to see you a little more light-hearted,” Avery said softly, reaching over to pat Callie’s leg. “Are you feeling a little more normal?”
