Calling California

by J. P. Grider

  With one firm nod, Griffin walks away from the podium and back to the seat next to mine. Where he attempts to put his hand on my knee. Attempts. I shove his hand away before it even touches me.

  His face drops and he mouths, "What?"

  Like he doesn't know. "Thanks for selling me out," I whisper, turning my body so that I'm facing Tabitha and not Griffin.

  "We're out of time today," Professor reminds us. "The rest of you will present your essays tomorrow. Have a good day."

  33

  Griffin

  "Cali, please. Wait up." My backpack, falling off my shoulder to begin with, drops to the ground. In a mad rush to catch up with Calista, I trip over it and let it stay there. The hammering in my chest increases with every step I take to catch her. Fuck me and my stupid essay. If I would have thought for one minute how Cali would feel about my speech, I would have just stuck with my original. Fuck. "Calista, please," I shout again, even though she's about a foot in front of me. With my adrenaline pumping forcefully, I can't help my volatile actions. Grabbing Cali by the shoulder, I regrettably apply force to turn her around and face me.

  "Get. Your. Hands. Off. Me." Her scornful glare tears me apart.

  There's a pain in my chest so great that I feel like I am going to self-destruct. Instead of taking my hand off of her shoulder like she asked, I grab both her lean upper arms and clench. "You have to give me a chance to explain, Calista," I plead. "I don't know why..."

  "Let. Go," she cuts off, jerking her arms from my grasp with such force, she slips backward and falls, landing on her ass.

  "Cali, I'm sorry." She disregards my attempt to help her up when I stoop down to get her. Instead, her knees cram up to her chest as her head falls to her knees. I sit down on the ground next to her, keeping my hands to myself, and strain for something to say.

  "Why? Why'd you do it?" Her words come out in a soft gurgle, and I want to curse myself for her tears.

  "I don't know." Against my better judgment, I reach out and lay my hand on her back. When she doesn't twitch away from my touch, I let my thumb stroke the fabric of her black t-shirt. "I don't know," I repeat, "why I presented that to the class, Calista. My original essay was much different than that."

  Her head pops up, displaying red, watery eyes and a cold expression - the stinging effect of a woman who's been betrayed.

  "My original essay," I continue, hoping to claw myself out of this hole I've dug for myself, "was about my sudden revelation that I've lived a sheltered, privileged life and how ashamed I was because of it."

  One of Cali's long fingers extends up to wipe her tears while she regards me with curious eyes.

  "I thought I knew how my speech would go. I barely wrote anything on my paper. Just a bunch of disparaging words about myself for not seeing the world outside my own." Though it's a cool September morning, my hands and forehead are sweating, I'm so nervous. "But when I saw you," I move my hand from her back to sweep a few wet curls from her face, "I couldn't help but talk about that other world. You are part of that world, Calista, and though you insist that I’m feeling sorry for you, I am not." I shift my body so that I am crouching in front of her instead of sitting beside her. People are shuffling around us, and though we should get up and out of the walkway, my only concern is making things right with Cali. "I feel sorry for me… because I've never had to work for anything a day in my life." She scoffs, but I continue anyway. "I've never had the chance to build my own character, become a man of substance. Someone to respect and like."

  Suddenly Cali is very aware of the footsteps moving about around her. She removes her backpack and lets me help her up. We step back on the grass, out of the way of the bustling crowd.

  "You have all this...this pride and determination and...and self-respect. That comes from a lifetime of learning to survive and learning that though life isn't fair, it's worth living. You're beautiful, Calista. Your soul...there's beauty in your soul, and it shines in your eyes. In everything you touch. And...and..." I stammer because my heart does. She's biting that bottom lip and she's trying not to smile. "And Calista...I want to be more like you. More beautiful..." And I can't even form the words I want to say. They're in my heart, but not on my tongue. It's a feeling I can't explain, not even to myself. I sigh instead.

  "Thank you." Her words are uttered softly. "I'm sorry I thought...well I really don't know what I thought, just that you were bringing attention to my life and...I don't like that, you know?"

  "I know. And I'm really sorry. I wasn't thinking when I was up there." Taking her hands in mine, I plead with her again. "And I'm really, really sorry about being rough with you before. I was...I couldn't stand the thought of you being mad at me. Then I go and squeeze your arms and..."

  "Griffin. It's okay. You weren't rough. It was probably all in your mind. Believe me...if you hurt me, I would have kicked your ass," she warns with a smile.

  I yank her towards me, tug on her curls that fall below her neck, and breathe into her mouth, "Is that a threat?"

  "That's a promise," she purrs before I close the space between us and claim her mouth.

  34

  Cali

  I wanted to be pissed at Griffin. I really did. Blurting out how poor I am in front of the class. It took all my energy just to stay seated and not jump up and slap him in the face in front of everyone. But I trust Griffin. And even though his speech provoked me, my gut told me his intentions were good. So instead of causing him physical harm and humiliating him in front of our peers, and though he humiliated me in front of everyone, I uttered a simple sarcastic statement and ignored him.

  Until he broke me down with his sincerity.

  It is touching, honestly, to know how Griffin feels. His admiration and respect for me blows my mind, truthfully. My oppressed life is cause for him to want to be more like me? I don't get it. But the genuine sweetness in his explanation warrants his speech forgivable, and I drop the whole thing.

  "So I really can't see you tonight, California?" Griffin asks after going back for his backpack and insisting he walk me to my next class.

  "Millicent's still not feeling well. She's just watching Dad while I go to my classes, but she’ll leave when I get there. I still haven't been to work this week."

  "Really? Are you going to be okay, I mean...financially?" He cringes at the word, I've gotten him so scared to talk about my finances.

  "No," I report honestly. "But I am enjoying the reprieve. It feels good to just hang out at home and read and do homework and listen to my music. It's nice."

  Griffin's eyes narrow. "It's nice taking care of your Dad? It's not getting too much?"

  "Yeah, it's getting too much, but what am I gonna do? He needs my help. Mostly he sleeps, so it's not too bad."

  Outside my classroom, Griffin wraps his arms around my waist and draws me to his chest. "Can you meet me after class...for coffee?"

  "I better not. I'd hate to do that to Millicent."

  He brings his hand up and skims his thumb along my jaw. "Can I come over when I'm done with my classes?"

  I want him to, but I'd hate to embarrass my father. "Um." I really, really want to see him. "Maybe if my dad is sleeping, you can run into my bedroom without him seeing you."

  Grabbing me by the sides of my face, he plants a powerful kiss on my lips and says, "Yes. I will be there. Thank you." Then he seizes my mouth again, this time driving his tongue deep inside – possessing me, like iron to a magnet, so that I cannot release myself from his hold. Even though I am late for class.

  My tongue relishes in his taste, mint mixed with coffee mixed with Griffin, when he at last breaks the force between us. He leaves me, both of us smiling but longing for more, and I go to class, my heart still ablaze with the fiery kiss he left me with.

  Instead of risking waking up my father by ringing the doorbell, Griffin texts me that he's here.

  "Hey," I greet him with a whisper and a kiss.

  "Hey," he whispers back, handing me a Dunkin' Donuts bag an
d a medium Dunkin' coffee.

  "Ooh, chocolate chip?"

  "Yup."

  "Thank you." I kiss him after closing the bedroom door.

  "Cute room," he says, sitting on the bed and untying his boots.

  "Getting comfortable?"

  His head jerks up. "No?"

  "Yeah, go 'head. Just joking."

  "Smart ass," he says, returning to the task of removing his boots.

  Taking a spot at the top of my bed, I sit cross-legged and pull up the tab on my coffee, blowing on the hole before taking a sip.

  Griffin stands, puts his hands in his pockets, and starts inspecting my room. "Nice poster," he notes sarcastically, referring to the framed bare-chested picture of Robert Plant, who is clearly not wearing any underwear beneath his thin blue pants.

  "Thanks. It's my mom's."

  "Your mom has some great taste in music...and in lead singers." Griffin says, moving on to the framed picture of my dad, my mom, and me that sits on my dresser. He lifts the photo and studies it. "You were cute even back then. What were you, like ten?"

  "Fourteen. I was a late bloomer." He raises a rogue eyebrow.

  Putting the photo down, Griffin moves on to the stack of DVDs set on top of my DVD player. "One of my favorites," he says of Crazy Beautiful - my favorite movie of all time. I continue to watch Griffin explore my room while I sip my coffee.

  "So what's with the dead plant, California?" He picks it up and inspects it, pushing his finger down into the soil. "Doesn't look like you've watered it in, what, years?" Holding it up, he raises his eyebrows. "What the fuck?" he jokes.

  "No cursing in front of Pees-e-ka." I scold him.

  "What?" He says, putting down the plant and picking up the Lynyrd Skynyrd album sleeve I have laying on top of the closed record player. "Pees-e-ka? What's a pees-e-ka?"

  "I think it's spelled P-i-s-i-c-a. It's the Romanian word for cat."

  "Cat?" He looks up from the album. "You named your plant Cat?"

  "No. I named it Pees-e-ka. And the plant was my mother's idea of a joke. I think."

  Griffin opens the player, puts the needle on the record, and turns it on. “I Ain't the One” blasts through the tiny built-in speaker of Mom's portable record player. "Good album. Never got into the whole Southern Rock genre, but I did like this album. You can't go wrong with a song like ‘Free Bird,’ right?"

  "One of the greatest songs ever made," I add.

  When Griffin sits on the bed next to me, my heart goes aflutter. He takes the coffee from my hand and places it on my nightstand. Then he shifts himself so that he's leaning against my wall at the top of the bed and pulls me up between his legs. Sitting face to face, our legs wrapped around each other, he says, "So tell me about this plant. It sounds interesting."

  My veins are pumping my blood at a faster pace, and I find it hard to talk sitting so close to him, when what I really want is to kiss him. "It's not as interesting as you'd think. I wanted a kitten, Mom bought me a plant. End of story."

  He runs his magical hands up and down my thighs, making me wish I could just doff the jeans I'm wearing with the wiggle of my nose. "Sounds like there's more to the story than you want me to believe."

  I let a moan slip from my lips.

  "I'm right, aren't I?" His hands continue to rub along my jean-clad legs.

  I shrug. "Maybe."

  My heart skips a couple of those beats it needs when Griffin moves his hands from my legs to my neck, using his thumbs to skim my lips. His eyes grow serious, as does his grin, when he searches my eyes to get a glimpse of my soul. Or at the very least, the truth. "Was that plant supposed to take the place of a pet, Calista?"

  His accurate presumption catches me off guard. I reach over Griffin to get my coffee, but he grabs me by the wrist and holds it against his chest. "I want to know all of you, Calista. The good. The bad. The sad. Your disappointments. Everything. Don't close me off."

  "Griffin. I'm not closing you off. There's nothing to tell. Yes, that plant was supposed to be my pet, but she meant it as a joke. She didn't realize it...that it affected me."

  "And how did it affect you?" My hand is still pressed against Griffin's chest, so I reach a few fingers out to touch it. He folds my fingers between his and stops me. "How did it affect you, Calista?"

  I peer into his eyes. He's serious. He really wants to know. "I hated her. She just totally discounted my feelings. It hurt. I shed a tear. I hated her for a few months. I got over it. End of story."

  He lets go of his grasp around my hand and reaches for the hem of my tank top. Without delay, he lifts it over my head and unclasps my bra, tossing both to the floor. He removes his own tee, lifting me from between his legs to sit me on top of him. Then unexpectedly, he envelops me in his arms, presses his chest against mine, and he holds me. Rocking us gently. Forward and back.

  When he whispers in my ear, "I will never discount your feelings, Calista. Everything you feel, I want to feel. I want to be there when you cry, be there when you laugh, I want to be there...for you...always. I want to feel your heart beating against mine, and I want to be the one that makes it beat. Every breath you let out, I want to inhale. Every breath I take, I take for you. You are the reason I've come alive, Calista. You are the reason... I breathe," I come undone. Not one for displaying much emotion, I'm surprised when the ice around my heart cracks and falls to pieces and I burst out in tears. Unfamiliar. Unbridled. Unbecoming.

  "No. No." I push away from him to lean over the bed and grab my shirt. Using it to dry my eyes, I wipe away any residual emotions. I take a few deep breaths and sit upright at the edge of my bed, my tank top on my lap, my hands clutching the shirt as if it provided strength.

  "Cal?" Griffin is beside me. "Did I do something I shouldn't have?"

  Yes. Yes he did do something he shouldn't have, I think, he knocked down the indestructible wall I spent years building to protect my heart. I may not have been able to protect my stomach from hunger when we hadn't enough money to buy food, or protect my family from losing apartment after apartment because we couldn't pay the rent, or protect my father from taking a job that would ultimately kill him, but I had learned to protect my heart from further disappointment and overwhelming sadness, by laying bricks, one by one, until my heart no longer felt deeply, or hurt wickedly. And nothing on Earth could penetrate that wall.

  Until Griffin.

  35

  Griffin

  "Calista," I call, trying to penetrate her thoughts. "What did I do?" Laying my hand on her thigh instead of her back, because she's still wearing her jeans and I'm afraid that touching her bare skin was what I did to put her in this trance in the first place, I try to calm my rising pulse. Not that I've ever reached this point in a relationship, but if I had, I'm guessing this is definitely the point in which I'd get up and leave...for good.

  But Calista is different. My feelings for her are different. And so I want to be patient and figure out what I did wrong, so I don't do it again.

  "Calista?" I approach her again just as gently. Only this time, I bring my fingers to her jaw and slowly, but firmly, turn her to face me. "What did I do?"

  There are no more tears in her eyes, and her lips have disappeared inside her mouth. When she shakes her head, her eyes widen in an attempt to stop another spout of tears.

  "Was it what I said? Or was it about the plant?" Risking upsetting her further, I move my hand to her bare back and run my fingers softly from side to side. "Because I really would like to know what upset you."

  Her shoulders and head drop as she sighs. "I...I don't...what you said, it just...it conjured up...I don't know, Grif...I...," she falters, flattening her fingers over her eyes.

  She lifts easily onto my lap, and again I hold her against my chest, tickling her arm with my touch.

  "I'm a mess, Griffin. You should run away now," she murmurs into my chest.

  Her hair smells of rosemary and lavender. After inhaling for quite a few seconds, I kiss her on top of her head. "Of al
l the people I know, Calista, you are the most together."

  Her laugh starts out small but grows into hysteria. While waiting for her to simmer down, I let my fingertips travel up her arm, down her shoulder, and over her breast, stopping at her pebbled nipple. Gently rolling the nub between my thumb and forefinger, I watch as her convulsing laughter turns into quiet moans. When her eyes settle on my mouth, mine naturally go to hers. Before seizing her lips in mine, I look back to her eyes and tilt her chin up to look up at me. "Talk to me," I demand in a whisper.

  After a five second inhale and an equally long exhale, I watch her mouth as she says, "You make me feel things, Griffin. Most of them good, but...like before, some bad."

  Restraining myself from looking surprised, I bite the inside of my cheek and wait for her to continue.

  "It's easy to forget...the bad stuff, you know, when everything is just surface deep. But," she hesitates, closing her eyes and pulling in her lips. After a brief second, she continues. "When suddenly, your slumbering heart awakens, it's like, at first, you know, it's great. Everything feels perky and animated. Fun. Colorful. Like you finally pulled up the blinds and the sun shines in for the first time in, like, a long time. But then...then, you take a step outside, take a walk in the sunshine, you know, but then all of a sudden it's all too overwhelming. Too green. Too hot. Too...too much. And then all you want to do is run back inside, close the blinds, and hide. Hide inside, where it's comfortable. Where it's just enough. You know?" Cali leans her head back down on my shoulder. "My heart wasn't ready to go out into the sun," she whimpers.