Eternal Youth

by Julia Crane

  “Argue with me some more, and then I’ll let you know.” Callie laughed. “What are we doing today?”

  “I figured we’d just hang out at the mall, if that’s okay with you?” Avery’s blue eyes slid to Callie. “I need a dress for the Winter Formal.”

  “Isn’t that in December?”

  “I want you here because I respect your opinion over my mother’s.”

  Callie chuckled. “Don’t blame you. Sounds great. I need to get some new clothes anyway. I really miss shopping in real malls. Outdoor markets get old after a while.”

  “I don’t know how you do it…”

  “Me either. Trust me it’s not willingly, that’s for sure.”

  The mall was like coming home; just the sight of the swaggering monstrosity was enough to give Callie heart palpitations—and she didn’t even like shopping that much.

  It was also riddled with cars and people, zipping in and out of parking spots and walking out in front of Avery’s car as if it wasn’t even there. The glass doors that led into the food court were like the revolving doors of a nightclub.

  Avery drove around in circles, looking for a spot close to the front. After their third pass, Callie sighed.

  “Heaven forbid you have to walk further than necessary, Avery.”

  “Whatever, world-traveler. Just because you’ve climbed the ass-crack of Guatemala doesn’t mean I have to.” Avery gave her a sweet smile.

  In the time her best friend wasted driving around, they could have already walked from the furthest spot in the back. Callie bit her tongue. She’d known Avery long enough to know nothing she said would make a difference. She’d just be accused of being a control-freak.

  The inside of the mall was packed. Callie latched on to Avery’s blue jean jacket and hung on for dear life as they barreled through the crowds, narrowly avoiding strollers, small children on tethers, and teenage boys attempting to skateboard until security found them. Avery’s routine was fail-safe—their first stop was always Forever 21.

  “There are so many people,” Callie murmured, pressing closer to her best friend as a big group of chattering pre-teens with knobby knees and elbows surged around them.

  “You’ve been out of touch with the real world for too long.” Avery shot a concerned look over her shoulder. “Too many days and nights in the company of monkeys instead of people.”

  “I’ve rarely seen monkeys.” Callie paused. “Up close, anyway.”

  Avery scoffed. “Your argument leaves much to be desired.”

  They spent a couple hours wandering the store and chit-chatting over the loud music. Callie made some great finds on the sale rack—much to Avery’s chagrin. With a curvier body, Avery was never quite as lucky to find three and four dollar tanks and tops to fit her. It was an ongoing source of pouting.

  They ended up finding a dress for the formal at JCPenney. It was an ankle-length, princess-waist in pale pink. The bodice was lined with silver thread, and the boning pushed Avery’s generous chest up and out.

  “I need jewelry,” Avery declared as they exited back into the mall.

  “Your pearls would look amazing with this dress, why don’t you just wear those?”

  Tucking the plastic garment bag over one arm, Avery shook her head. “No. I need new jewelry.”

  “You’re a mess,” Callie said with a laugh.

  As they passed through the food court on the way to Avery’s favorite jewelry store, Callie was distracted by a head full of black hair. She stopped in the middle of the walkway and was nearly plowed over by a large, hairy guy in a leather jacket.

  “Watch it, girl,” he snarled, diverting his path and disappearing into the crowd before she could respond.

  “Way to go, Cal,” Avery said as she tugged Callie to the side of the walkway. They paused beneath a window with a display of sports equipment. “Why’d you stop?”

  “Isn’t that the guy from Luigi’s?” Callie asked, her gaze on the dark-haired boy who had caught her attention.

  He was sitting by himself at a small table near the Subway, munching on a handful of french fries. Callie’s heart skipped a beat. He looked so cute in his khaki corduroys and red plaid shirt.

  “Huh. That is Jonathan.” Avery shrugged. “So?”

  “He’s such a cutie.”

  Avery smacked Callie on the shoulder. “If you thought he was cute, why didn’t you go talk to him yesterday? Other than ordering our food, I mean.”

  Callie shrugged. “I dunno.”

  Planting her hands firmly on Callie’s shoulders, Avery angled her towards the food court and gave her a push. “It’s a sign. He’s here, he’s by himself, and you need to go talk to him.”

  “He probably doesn’t even remember me.” Callie bit her lip.

  “Somehow I doubt that,” Avery said wryly. “You’re not exactly easy to forget. Go on. Go talk to him. I’m going to go look around. Text me if you need me to come save you.” Avery pushed Callie towards the food court.

  Callie looked back, her eyes pleading, but Avery just grinned and sauntered off.

  Great. Callie sighed, threw back her shoulders, and kept her head high. Her mother always told her perception was reality. As long as she looked confident, Jonathan would think it was true.

  Meanwhile, her stomach was in knots. She had no idea what to say to him.

  She didn’t want to appear too stalker-ish, so she stopped and bought a pretzel and soda. Trying to look as casual as possible, she passed his table and sat down at a table across from him. She kept glancing over, trying to catch his eye, but he was oblivious. Now what?

  She obviously needed to brush up on her flirting skills. Maybe she should just call Avery and forget about Jonathan… But, her best friend would probably never let her live it down. Avery had the memory of an elephant and the ability to draw out things better left in the past.

  What the hell. It’s not like she had anything to lose—she was leaving in a few days, anyway. Callie stood up and dropped her trash in the can, and then walked to his table. “Hey, don’t you work at the pizza place?”

  Jonathan looked up, surprised. His eyes were a much paler shade of blue than they had seemed in the dim restaurant the night before. “Yeah. Oh—weren’t you there yesterday? Luigi’s special?”

  Callie felt the blush creep up her cheeks. “Yep. I thought you looked familiar, but I wasn’t sure.” Was it okay to lie when you were flirting?

  If someone were to teach classes in human interaction for sixteen-year-olds, I’d take them.

  “Cool.” He stuck out a hand. “Jonathan Furrow.”

  “Callie Bishoff,” Callie replied, staring at their hands locked together. Callie thought his long fingers looked graceful.

  “I’ve never seen you around before. Are you new?” He let go of her and crinkled up his metallic burger wrapper.

  She stepped away minutely, uncomfortable at the depth of his stare. “Not really. I’ve lived here for as long as I can remember, but I travel a lot.”

  Jonathan wrinkled his nose. “Travel? What about school? Are you home schooled?”

  “Unfortunately.” Callie shifted her feet awkwardly and realized she had no idea what to do with her hands. Put them on her hips? Behind her back? She vaguely remembered her mom telling her to never cross her arms in front of someone because it was rude. Or was that never cross your legs in front of them?

  So. Out. Of. Touch.

  “Why don’t you sit down?” Jonathan smiled, a flash of white in his olive-skinned face, and her heart did a double back flip.

  “Thanks.” She slid onto the hard metal stool across from him and smiled shyly. “So. Where do you go to school?”

  “Saint Anthony’s.”

  “Oh. All-boys?”

  Jonathan shrugged. “Yeah. It’s alright. We have a really good music program, so that’s all I really care about. We suck in sports though.”

  “I don’t really like sports.”

  “Really? I love basketball.”

&
nbsp; There was a moment of awkward silence. Callie stared at her fingernails, wishing she’d put some kind of polish on the broken nubs, and Jonathan tossed his wrapper ball back and forth between his hands.

  Finally, he cleared his throat. “You came over for a reason, Callie Bishoff. If you can’t spit it out, I guess I’ll have to.”

  “Huh?” Smooth, Callie thought. She glanced around, preparing her escape.

  “So, you doing anything Saturday? There’s a Sci-Fi flick coming out this weekend. You wanna come with?”

  Her heart was thudding madly in her chest. “Really?”

  His eyes crinkled at the corners when he grinned, and Callie had to fight the urge to swoon.

  “Really.” He pulled out his iPhone and looked at her expectantly.

  Callie rattled off her number, pleased to find her voice didn’t sound as shaky as it felt. Maybe she could do this teen interaction thing alright.

  “I gotta get going,” Jonathan said, putting away his cell. “But I’ll call you to set up plans.”

  She could only nod.

  “Talk to you soon, Callie.” With a final smile, he stood and left—leaving his trash on the table.

  “He left his trash on the table,” Callie moaned, sagging against Avery as they shoved through the exterior doors. It had gotten chilly, even though the sun was still pretty high. If it was even possible, the parking lot had gotten busier.

  “It’s trash, Callie, not a small child.” Avery rolled her eyes as she dug around in her purse for her keys.

  “I hate people who don’t clean up after themselves.”

  “You don’t even pick your clothes up off the floor, crazy.”

  Callie glared at her. “In public. This conversation isn’t about my private habits.”

  “Tomato, tomahto.”

  They stopped at their doors, and Callie stared across the top of the car as Avery turned the key in the lock. “Well, maybe I don’t like to-mah-tos. Maybe I’m a straight-laced tomato girl,” she replied as they scooted into the car and closed their doors.

  Avery shot Callie an incredulous look as she turned the key in the ignition. “Calista Bishoff, you are a to-mah-to. You’re about as normal as a killer whale at the equator.”

  Callie burst out laughing. “What does that even mean?”

  They giggled all the way home.

  September 17, 2010

  Quebec City

  I’ve always wanted a reason to use my crappy French (the French Mom has taught me over the years). Then we come to Canada, where I learn not only do most people speak English, but the French that IS used is different from France French.

  Strike #1.

  Braden disappeared as soon as we got here. He had a friend to meet up with, some girl he knew from San Diego who moved here with her parents a couple years ago. THEN, Mom takes off to meet up with some GUY that used to know my dad.

  Strike #2.

  While I was taking a bath in the “communal” bathroom and had the door LOCKED, some wrinkly old guy in a ratty towel came bursting in and demanded I “vacate the premises because his hemorrhoids needed a soak.”

  Strike #3.

  I don’t like baseball, but I sure do like the whole “three strikes and you’re out” mentality. So someone explain to me why I’m STILL in Quebec City and we’re STILL about to storm the castle…

  “Dad wants to see me.” Braden’s voice drifted through the bathroom door, and Callie jumped.

  “You scared me!” she gasped, and then frowned at the line of dark red nail polish she’d left across her finger. She reached for some toilet paper to head it off before it became part of her skin permanently.

  “Sorry. Can we talk?”

  “Yeah, come in. I’m just painting my nails.”

  The door clicked open, and Braden filled the doorway. He sagged against the frame, letting his head rest on the wood. “Did you hear me?”

  Callie turned back to her nails, dipping the brush into the bottle once more. “Yeah. Are you going to go?”

  “If you go with me.”

  Startled, she left another line of color down a second fingertip. “Me? Why?”

  Braden stepped into the bathroom and heaved himself onto the small counter. “Because I can’t do it by myself, Cal. I’ll…”

  The pause dragged on until Callie lifted her eyes to his. She raised an eyebrow. “What? Kill him?”

  Braden rolled his eyes until they rested on her. “Get real.” He shrugged. “I just think I could use some balance. You’re my balance.”

  It was true, and she knew it. All the years he’d spent taking care of her and getting her through the traveling… Their bond was more akin to siblings than cousins.

  “Where are you supposed to meet him? He’s not coming here is he?” The very thought bothered Callie. Gran deserved better than a deadbeat son that came around and stirred up trouble in her home. It was why Callie’s mom had disowned the man so many years before.

  “I told him I’d call him back, but I guess a diner or something.” Braden grinned. “Somewhere public.”

  With a chuckle, Callie replied, “Again, so you don’t kill him. Sure, I’ll go with you. After all—you’re always there for me.” She smiled and went back to her nails.

  “I’ll call him back. I’d rather get it over with. You mind going tonight?”

  “Let me think about it. You know I’ve got a busy schedule.” Callie rolled her eyes, not bothering to look at him as she brushed the liquid over a fingernail.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” Braden shook his head and grinned, closing the door behind him.

  The Apron was a favorite for local ‘greasy spoon’ fare. As a little girl, Callie’d had a standing date every Sunday morning with her mother and Gran—two scrambled eggs, one silver dollar pancake, and a sausage link. Comfort food, and comfort time.

  Nowadays, Callie was lucky to get breakfast food of any kind. It was more common to have rice and beans for the first meal of the day—if they ate at all. In some island country, Callie’d eaten eel for breakfast. It was surprisingly okay, but she wasn’t in a hurry to try it again, breakfast or otherwise.

  Braden pulled into an empty parking spot and cut the engine. When he didn’t make any move to get out, his hands still resting on the wheel, Callie glanced over at him. “Are you ready to see him?”

  “Honestly, I’d rather be anywhere but here.”

  “Yeah. I get that.” Callie touched the sleeve of his blue long-sleeve shirt. “We can still leave.”

  Braden laughed bitterly. “There’s still that kid in me that’s hoping he’s changed.”

  “People can change,” Callie responded gently, her thoughts immediately going to her mother. Callie had hoped for years that her mother would suddenly be the woman she used to be. Fat lot of good hope does.

  Braden pushed his car door open. “Might as well get it over with. Knowing him, he either won’t even show up or he’s too drunk to find it.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be here. If you want to leave, just give me the secret signal and I’ll make up an excuse for us to bolt.” Callie pulled her ear and rubbed her nose as she walked up beside him.

  He laughed, a deep, happy sound that Callie knew he needed. “What would I do without you?” He threw his arm around Callie’s shoulders and steered her towards the front door of the diner.

  A jingle bell sounded as they opened the glass door and walked in. The sun had already set outside and it was colder than usual—but the warmth and bustle of the restaurant was immediately comforting. The wonderful aroma of coffee and bacon filled the room. Callie’s stomach rumbled.

  Braden’s arm tensed around her as they saw his dad sitting at a table against the windows. He looked the same, just older. His dark brown hair was long and streaked with grey, and his full beard and plaid shirt made him look like a lumber jack. He held a menu open on the table and sipped from a steaming, white mug.

  Callie squeezed Braden’s waist and pulled away, urging him on. He sm
iled gratefully.

  Callie’s uncle looked up as they walked down the aisle towards him. A big grin spread beneath his beard. He stood up, and Callie was struck by how much weight he had lost as he pulled Braden into a hug. “It’s been too long, Son.”

  Braden was clearly taken by surprise; only Callie would have recognized the uncomfortable look on his face. He pulled away from the hug a second too early and motioned for Callie to scoot into the booth. “Yeah, I guess it has,” he finally replied, not meeting his dad’s eyes.

  “Hey, Uncle Billy,” Callie said cheerfully as she scooted onto the bench across from him. “You look great! How have you been?”

  “Callie!” her uncle boomed. He held his hands out, palms up. “Look at you. All grown up. You’re beautiful, just like your momma.”

  “Thanks—” She ran a hand through her hair self-consciously, partly flattered, but mostly wondering if there was an ulterior motive behind the compliment.

  A tall, dark-haired waitress trudged up to the table. A large, pregnant belly filled out the frilly, cornflower blue apron she wore. There were dark circles beneath her eyes and a cynical tilt to her lips. “Hey, folks. I’m Tina. Can I start you with a soda?”

  Callie didn’t know a lot about pregnancy, but the woman looked like she was about to pop. “How far along are you?”

  Tina sighed, and Callie realized the poor woman was probably asked that several times a day. “Six months. I know—I’m huge. I’m having twins.” She smiled and rubbed her belly. For a moment, the exhaustion fled her face, leaving behind a happy mother.

  “Enjoy them while they’re little. They grow up fast,” Uncle Billy said with a fond glance at Braden.

  Callie’s head jerked in Braden’s direction to see his reaction. His jaw was clenched, and beneath the table, his knuckles were white on his knees.

  After they placed their orders and the woman had walked away, Braden stared across the table at his father. “What’s this about, Dad? Why did you call me? And don’t give me any BS about wanting to see me. Let me guess, you need money? Is that what this is about?”

  Callie cringed at the bitter contempt that dripped from her cousin’s voice.