Calling California
Page 4
"Thanks." I'm not sure if it was inadvertently or not, but Cali's thumb grazes the base of my thumb, sending an electric vibration right down to my dick. Lord have mercy.
"You like children, do you?"
"I do. Enough about me. Why car design?"
Though her thumb is now still, I rub my thumb against the knuckle of her index finger. Her skin is so soft, I need to close my eyes for a moment to catch my breath. "I love cars. Been in love with them since I can remember."
"Cool. What kind of car do you drive? Since you like cars so much."
"A '69 Hursts Olds."
"A '69? And it still runs?"
Her expression makes me laugh. "Of course it still runs. I restored the engine."
"You restored it? You're a mechanic."
"Yeah. Sort of. Ah, we're here." Unclasping my hand from Cali's and placing my hands on Cali's upper arms, I slowly turn her around to face the New York City skyline.
"Oh my God, it's beautiful," she coos. "Wow."
"It is gorgeous, right? There's nothing like the New York skyline. Do you ever go into the city?"
Cali snorts. "Yeah right. It's way too expensive."
"Have you ever been?"
"No."
Her eyes are fixed on the skyline, mine are fixed on Cali's expression of wonder as she stares off at New York's beautiful outline of high-rise buildings. "You've never been to New York City? You have to go. There's nothing like it. Let me take you."
With her eyes wide, she takes her eyes off the skyline. "What? Now?"
"No, not now," I chuckle. "Well, yeah now if you want. It's not like the city closes or anything."
"Oh my God, no. It's way too expensive. Parking and food. No. Thank you, but no."
I take her hand and squeeze it. "It'll be on me. My treat."
"No. That's way too much money for you too. No. Looking at it from here, this is perfect. It's more than perfect, it's wonderful." She looks back at the skyline, but continues holding my hand. "Thank you for taking me here."
"You're welcome," I sigh, unsure if I should tell her I have plenty of money to take her to New York City or let her believe I'm in the same financial struggle that she is.
Since the moments slip by, I let my silence answer for me. I'm letting her believe I am poor. Which I hope doesn't come back to haunt me in the long run.
10
Cali
The sweet and smoky smell of bacon gently wakes me from my sleep. I love Sunday mornings. Unlike every other morning of the week, Mom and I are both home and able to spend a little quality time with each other.
"Smells good, Mom," I tell her while reaching in the cabinet for a mug.
"Morning, Calista. Sleep well?" Mom asks, setting a plate of bacon, eggs, and toast on the table.
I pour my coffee and sit in front of my breakfast. "Yeah. I did. Thanks for breakfast."
Mom sits down across from me with her plate and cup of coffee. "You got home later than me last night."
"Oh my God, Mom, was Dad alone? I thought Millicent..."
"Yes, baby," Mom interrupts, "Millicent was here. You know she doesn't mind staying for your father. She's such a Godsend. If it weren't for her, I don’t know how we’d manage to take care of Dad."
"I know. Thank God." I curl a full piece of bacon and shove it in my mouth.
"So were you out with Tabitha?" Mom smiles, but her eyes look so tired. Working two jobs and having my father's illness on her mind is really taking its toll on her.
"Yeah. We went to a college party." I shove some eggs in my mouth to prevent myself from blushing.
"Oh, Calista, I'm so happy about that. You've been working so hard, it's about time you get to have a little fun. Did you meet some new people?"
Now I can't contain my blushing. "Well, yeah."
My mother takes a big inhale. "A boy?"
I laugh. "Yes, Mom, a boy. He's cute too."
"Oh, honey, that's great. But be careful. I mean, you never know sometimes." Mom pushes her food around the plate, and I realize that she hasn't even eaten any of it.
"Mom. Are you all right?"
She gets up, scrapes her uneaten food into the trash and places the dish in the sink. "Of course," she says to the wall behind the sink. When she starts washing dishes, I realize she doesn't want to talk about what's bothering her. It can be one of any number of difficult situations Mom has going on in her life right now. Dad. Her two jobs. Not being able to pay bills. Being one month away from being homeless, because we have no money saved at all.
"Mom." I walk up to the counter and put my empty plate in the sink. "I'll finish those. Go sit down."
Slowly, my mother turns to face me, her eyes red and wet.
"C'mon, Mom. Sit. Or better yet, sit with Dad."
My mother hugs me tight and silently cries on my shoulder. Several minutes later, she pulls away, wipes at her eyes with a dish towel and sits back down at the kitchen table. Filling our mugs with fresh coffee and sitting down with her, I say in my most upbeat voice, "I just know everything is going to turn out okay, Mom. I just...it has to."
My mother's smile is more like a smirk. "Yes, Calista, it's all going to be just fine. Dad will miraculously recover. Money will magically appear. And life is full of sunshine and roses." I can just hear those thoughts in my mother's head. Lately, though, she'd never say that type of thing out loud. Once my father got sick, my mom became a much milder person than she used to be. Not that she was overwhelming and loud or anything like that, but she was never warm and fuzzy. I guess since Dad took ill, she's realizing time is short.
"Thank you, Mom," I say, looking her right in the eyes. "For working so hard for us. You know. I can quit school, work full-time again."
"Stop that, Calista. No. You need your education. If your dad or I had one, maybe we wouldn't be in the situation we're in now. It's okay. I like waitressing. I don't mind."
"Yeah but, Mom, two waitressing jobs? You go from the diner to the restaurant every day. That's just too much. If I go back to work full-time, I can help. I'll use the money I had saved for school to..."
"Stop it." She interrupts me again, sounding annoyed. "Now tell me about this boy. What's his major?"
"Engineering. He wants to be a car designer," I say proudly.
"Wow. That sounds interesting," Mom says, wiping the last remnant of her tears with her dish towel. "Does he work?"
"Um, I think so. He says he's a mechanic. He looks like a mechanic."
That makes my mother laugh. "What's a mechanic look like?"
Chuckling along with my mother, I say, "You know, scruffy, tattooed, a little dirt under the fingernails some days."
"Some days? You mean you didn't meet him last night?"
"No. He's actually in one of my classes. Plus he came in the bank this past Thursday. That's when I saw his dirty fingernails."
"Is he a nice boy, Calista?"
"Yes, Mom he is. Really nice. He took me up to the top of Tilt Street last night. Did you know that from the gate by the senior housing you can see the New York skyline clear as day?"
"Really? I hadn't realized that. I never drive that way. It was a beautiful night last night too, it must have been gorgeous."
"Oh, Mom, it was. Really gorgeous. He even offered to take me there."
"What? It's so expensive, isn't it? I mean, mass transit is ridiculous, and if you drive in, parking is expensive. Does he have a lot of money?"
"I don't think so. He drives a 1969 Oldsmobile that he had to rebuild himself, so I'm guessing he's pretty poor too."
"Then why would he offer to take you there?" Mom runs her hand along the top of her mug.
"I don't know, Ma. But I told him thanks, but no thanks."
"Are you going to see him again?"
"Well we have class together on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays, so I'll see him then."
"He didn't ask you out on a date?"
"Mom. People our age don't do that anymore. We just hang out."
&
nbsp; "People your age don't date?" She asks as if she finds this hard to believe.
"I don't know, Ma. I mean, I guess, I don't know," I say frustrated. "He didn't ask, no. Not after I said no about New York." I mumble, kicking myself, because now I'm wondering if he won't ever ask me out again. Maybe that's why he ended up so quiet the rest of the night.
11
Griffin
Eight a.m. is fucking early to be waking up on a day when I don't have class. But I never got Cali's phone number, and all day yesterday I was itching to call her. So today, I am showing up outside the psychology building and waiting for her to go to her first psychology class, even though I have no idea what classroom she'll be in. Nor do I know what time her class is. So I stand outside the psych building at 8:30, hoping I'm not too late.
After two hours pass by, I realize how pathetic I am waiting on a girl I just met. Never in my whole twenty-one years have I ever done this. But I can't help it. There's just something about her. I could easily say it's her beautiful dark gray eyes, or thick, curly, nearly black hair. It could be easy to say it's her ample breasts or long-as-hell sexy legs. Or that beautiful, sensual, genuine smile of hers. But it's more than that. Something from deep inside her is calling out to me. It's almost as if I can hear her soul. And it's telling me she's perfect for me.
Another half hour goes by, and I'm starting to think I misheard her tell me she had a psych class this morning, when I see her coming down the walk. Her eyes dark, her smile bright.
"Griffin. Hi. You have class here?" She asks, clearly happy to see me.
Whew. "Uh, yeah. No," I sigh. "I remembered you saying you had a psych class Monday morning, so..."
She blushes. "Really? You were waiting for me?"
I nod, sliding my toe on the cement. Like a freaking ass girl. "I don't have your cell number. I kinda wanted to be able to call you yesterday, but..."
"Oh." She pulls out her flip phone and opens it up. "What's your number? I'll call you."
"Can you get texts on that thing?" Her phone is so antiquated it has me wondering.
She laughs. "Of course it does, it's not that old. Now what's your number?"
I give her my number and she calls me right there.
"Hello? Who is this?" I joke.
She flips her phone closed and laughs.
"Not the silly type, I take it?"
She cocks her head. "I can be silly."
"Just not today." I press the end button on my phone and stick the phone in my pocket. I'll put her number in my contacts later.
"My class is gonna start." She ignores my comment.
"Oh, right. Do you have a break today?"
"No. I have classes up until I have to be in work."
"What time do you get out of work?"
"About 6:45. I just have to prove out before I can leave. Usually always by 7." She shrugs her tiny shoulders.
"Can I see you after work?"
Cali bites the side of her lip while she thinks about it. Then she nods and answers with a smile, "Ok."
"Should I pick you up at work or do you want to give me your address?"
"Um," Cali hesitates.
"Is that a difficult question?" I ask, keeping the smile on my face so she knows I'm playing with her.
"No. It's just...my dad is sick, so I can't really have visitors."
"I can sit in your driveway."
"Well, it's really a parking lot, but okay."
"A parking lot?"
"I live in an apartment building."
"Great. What's your address?"
"16 Barbour Street. But don't ring the bell, it may wake my father. I'll just wait outside for you."
"Ok. You don't live far from my frat house."
"You're in a fraternity? That was a frat house?"
"No. I just call it a frat house to distinguish it from my family's house in Wayne. I guess I can call it my Haledon house."
"Whatever," she says with a tiny laugh. "I really gotta go." She looks at her watch.
"Sure. I'll see you tonight." I so badly want to kiss her but I refrain, hoping tonight I get to feel the touch of her plush-looking lips on mine.
I'm already sitting on her front steps when she walks up the sidewalk from the parking lot. I had gotten to her house at seven but didn't want to ring the bell. I had no idea what kind of car she drives, so I had no idea if she was actually home or not.
"Hey, California." I stand, greeting her on the steps.
"Griffin. I'm sorry I'm late. I was off by five dollars, and I couldn't leave until I found the error."
"No problem. It's a beautiful night. I didn't mind waiting. Was that your gray Corolla that pulled into the lot?"
"Yeah. Nice piece of junk, right? Just let me go change and tell my dad and his nurse I'm going out. I'll be right back."
"I'll be waiting."
I'm sitting back down on her front steps when I hear, "I'm ready," behind me.
Turning as I stand, I can't help but say, "Wow. That's an old shirt. I love it."
"Thanks," her face turns a pretty pink.
"Is that an original Guns N' Roses shirt, like, from the 80s?"
"Yeah. It was my mom's. It was her favorite. It doesn't fit her anymore, so she gave it to me."
Walking towards my car, Cali asks, “Are those green Doc Martens?”
“Yeah.”
“I could have sworn they were black.”
“They were. I have a black pair too.”
“You have two pairs of Doc Martens?”
“Yeah.” I shrug, embarrassed by the fact that I spend a ton of money on my footwear. So, to switch the subject quickly, I inquire about her taste in music. "Do you like Guns N’ Roses?"
"I do."
"Perfect. I have a GNR cassette in my car." I open the door for her.
"Cassette?"
"Yeah." Shutting the door, I run around and get in on my side. "I haven't gotten around to restoring the interior, so right now I have to listen to cassettes. But I have a new stereo system I'm putting in as soon as I get done with some of the engine work."
As we pull away I make sure to ask her if she'd eaten, even though I figure she probably hadn't.
"No, I didn't."
"I thought we'd go to Donny's. Is that all right?"
"Sure."
"You've been there, right?"
"Yes. With my friends."
"Good."
Donny's is right up Belmont, so we pull in the lot forty-five seconds later, just enough time to play her one verse of “Sweet Child O' Mine.”
12
Griffin
Donny's doesn't have its usual loud crowd here on a Monday night, so we have our choice of tables.
"High table or low?" I ask Cali, referring to the high bar-style tables off to the right or the regular tables running down the center of the bar and grill.
"A high table," Cali sings. Well not really sings, but her voice is so cheery, her words come out like a song. It's nice to see her happy. In the few days I've known her, I've noticed an apprehensiveness about her. But tonight, it's not there.
"Hey, Griff," Mick, the bartender calls from the bar, "how's it going?"
"Good, Mick. You?"
"Good. Did Casey set ya up yet?"
"No. We just sat down though, no hurry."
"Case," Mick shouts to the waitress at the other end of the bar, "take care of Griff, will ya?"
"You come here that frequently that they know you by name?" Cali asks.
"Yeah," I say, a little embarrassed that I spend so much time at a bar. "Joey and I come here a lot after we're done at the garage. Wind down with a beer and all."
"Hey, Griff," Casey pinches my upper arm lightly, "sorry about that, I was talking to Knox, and well, y'know how hot that roommate of yours is."
Cali's eyes widen and I shake my head. "It's fine, Case. I didn't realize Knox was here."
"Yeah, he's sitting at the back of the bar."
Knox struts up to our table. "Sp
eak of the devil."
"Hey, Griff. No Joey tonight?"
"No. Not tonight. Knox, I don't think you got to meet Cali the other night, Cali, Knox."
"Hi. Nice to meet you," Cali offers.
"Nice to meet you too," Knox says to Cali, then quickly turns to me. "Niiice."
Shaking my head, I make a lighthearted request, "Knox, can you leave now?"
"Yeah, man, enjoy. See you later, Case."
"Bye, Knox." Casey clicks her tongue at the sight of Knox's ass.
"You're sick, Case."
"Yeah I am. So what can I get you two?"
"I'll have a seltzer with lime," Cali asks.
"Sam Adams."
"'K, be right back."
"So, are you not twenty-one yet? Is that why you ordered the seltzer?"
"Yeah. I'm nineteen. I'll be twenty in January. I take it you're already twenty-one?"
"Yup. Just turned it last month."
"Yet you're on a first name basis with everyone here," she muses, crossing and playing with her fingers.
"A man's gotta eat," I joke back, just as Casey comes back with our drinks.
"Anything to eat?" Casey asks.
"Um," Cali looks like she's chewing the inside of her cheek.
"I asked you out," I remind her. "It's on me."
Her shoulders relax, but she still looks a bit uneasy.
I reach out and touch her hand. "Seriously, Cali. You can buy next time...if it'd make you feel better."
She visibly relaxes and orders waffle cheese fries and a burger. I order a rib-eye steak and regular fries.
"So," Cali begins. "How'd you become a mechanic? Did you go to school for it?"
"No. I've just always been fascinated with cars and just taught myself. I met up with Joey freshman year. His dad owns the garage, but Joey runs it in the afternoons and on the weekends. So the two of us work together a lot."
"That's really cool. So you were able to buy a junky car and fix it up."
"Uh-huh." I won't tell her that my junky car actually cost my father $50,000 because it was a hard to come by classic. "I also do auto body work too. I'm restoring the whole car. From engine to interior."