by J. P. Grider
Instead of looking directly at him, I glance around the kitchen and stop at the two empty bottles of wine on the counter, and the half-empty bottle sitting next to them. My eyes then settle on the empty wine glass in the center of our table. With raised eyebrows, I silently question him.
"It's been one of those days," he sniggers. He looks at my untouched coffee, then at the wine glass. "Would you prefer wine instead?" He asks, holding up his empty wine glass.
The very edges of my lips betray my silence.
"I'll take that as a yes."
In two seconds, he's back at the table, the half-empty bottle in one hand, two wine glasses in his other. Pouring us both a glass, he hands me one then sits back down across from me. "So, I'm pretty sure you can speak. Not sure why you won't, but can I at least know your name?"
The light eyes I looked into outside, are actually a light-blue/grayish color – a mix of my charcoal eyes and my mother’s light blue eyes. They’re even the same shape as mine. This causes a whimper to escape my throat - a sign, I think, he takes as timidity, but in reality is disbelief.
"How 'bout I tell you my name first. Hi. I'm Nathan. You can call me Nate... or Nathan." He smiles. "The choice is yours."
I nod, but again, find myself completely mute. Until meeting Nathan I was so outrageously hurt and angry. But after meeting him, I find myself feeling sad. Sad for him. Sad for me. Was today one of those days for him because he too found out the truth about his fostering? Has his world too been turned completely upside down? If I don't tell him who I am soon, I will just be another lie piled on top of the mess that my mother helped to make.
"I'm Cali," I say softly, gulping the wine afterward and enjoying its warmth as it coats my throat and esophagus.
"Cali," he nods, smiling. Then he sits forward and thumps his hands on the table. "You're her. You're she. You're... you," he says breathlessly.
"Yeah," I whisper, realizing he was informed of this secret. I just wonder when. "Surprise," I say, raising my palms at him.
Shaking his head, he guzzles his wine, then caps off our glasses. "Maybe we should switch to something stronger," he suggests.
"I'm game."
While he leaves the room to find us some hard liquor, I greedily devour my glass of wine, and stand to check the soup. Sticking the wooden spoon into the pot, I'm surprised to find that it isn't burned on the bottom. I stir it and let it be. Nathan reenters the kitchen with an amber colored bottle. "Oh, I forgot about the soup. Help yourself. Bowls are behind you. Just turn off the burner."
"Sure." I reach back for a bowl. "You want any?"
"No thanks," he responds, placing two shot glasses on the table and filling them with amber-color liquid.
Sitting back down with my soup, I notice, under closer inspection, that the bottle is actually clear. It's the liquor that is amber-colored only. "Fireball?" I ask, surprised he went for the hot stuff. He seems like a fairly clean-cut wine kinda guy.
"Yeah. Ever have it?" He asks, handing me a filled shot glass and holding his up for me to clunk.
"To... siblings," I say almost bravely.
He quirks a side smile. "To siblings."
We toss back our cinnamon whiskey and he pours us another.
"To new lives."
We clink glasses and guzzle another shot.
"Eat your soup," he quietly demands. "I don't need my brother on my case because I got his girlfriend drunk."
That's when the fun I was suddenly having with Nathan ends.
"What’d I say?" he asks, his eyebrows knitted, his smile no more.
"Nothing." My stomach burns, but I pour myself another shot of whiskey and down it.
Nathan pulls away the bottle.
My chest burns, and I'm sure it's a combination of the whiskey and my bleeding heart. Or the whiskey trying to heal my bleeding heart. Either way, I'm bleeding and I'm burning.
"It's Calista, right? Your full name?"
"Yes," I answer, feeling quite dizzy right now. I'm thinking Nathan has a twin brother, because I’m seeing two of him right now.
"Calista? How'd you get here?" Nathan's twin asks.
I rub at my eyes, and try to focus. "I drove."
"Well, you're not driving home. I'll drive you," he offers, but doesn't get up to take me anywhere.
"I don't have a home," I mutter.
"What?" Both Nathans say. "Calista?" Both Nathans get up, but only one kneels in front of me. "What do you mean you don't have a home?"
His hand is on my knee, and I think, whoa, he's my brother.
"Cali. Concentrate." His voice is more forceful now.
"I can't go home. My mother doesn't love me." I don't look him in the eyes. Instead, his hands on my legs have become what I'm focused on.
"Sure she does." One of those hands move from my legs and is headed for my face. Beneath my chin. He lifts my chin with his hand, so that I look at him and not his hands. "Cali. Just because she kept this secret from you, doesn't mean she doesn't love you." I try to drop my head back down. He doesn't let me. "Look at me. She does love you. She was trying to... well I don't know what she was trying to do, but I'm sure she was really embarrassed about it. Sometimes we don't intend to lie, but it ends up that we'd waited so long to say something, that it's just easier to not say anything after all."
I drop my head despite his hand trying to hold it up. I don't want him to see me crying. So closing my eyes, so I can't see him either, I let my tears fall.
For a minute, I don't feel him at my knees, but quickly he's back, pushing tissues into my closed hands.
My head is still down, eyes still closed, when I hear a screech across the floor. I lift my eyelids to peek - he's moved his chair in front of me. Using those tissues he gave me, I start wiping at my eyes. "How did you find out?" I ask him.
Nathan laughs. "Your mother came by today."
This sobers me. "What?"
"Ellie came by this afternoon. She knows I practically live here. Well, that and she tried me at home, but I wasn't there."
I can't believe what I'm hearing. "She told you before she told me?"
He sits back in his chair and nods sympathetically. "I guess. If you just found out tonight, then yeah. She told me first."
"Oh my God." I stand and start pacing his restaurant's kitchen floor. "Oh my God."
Nathan's hand on my shoulder stops my pacing. "I'm sure she didn't know what the fuck to do. She was so fucking scared. And let me tell you, I'm sure my father had something to do with that fear."
I turn around to face him. "Wait. You're not even upset that they've been lying to you all this time?"
"Shit yeah, I'm upset," he says, running a hand through his hair. "Why do you think I've been drinking all day? I just had most of the day to think about it, that's all."
"Oh." I think about this. "So, you're mad. What did you say to my mom?"
"Not much. She left with me barely saying two words to her. But my own parents got an earful, I'll tell you that."
"Aren't you mad at them?" I wonder, sitting back down at the table.
"Yeah. I am. At them more so than Ellie, considering they're the ones who raised me. But... I've been working with Ellie for as long as I can remember, so yeah, she kinda pissed me off too."
"I just don't get it." I drop my head, placing my chin on my fist.
"Listen, Cali. It's way past midnight. You say you can't go home. How 'bout you stay at my place tonight? I only live two blocks away. And since we drank, we can walk. Then, tomorrow, I'll make us a pot of coffee and we can talk some more. Sound good?"
I nod, because, well, what choice do I really have, right? I can't go home to my mother. I can't go home to Griffin, and it's too late to knock on Tabitha's door.
So my new brother locks up his restaurant, puts his arm around my shoulder, and walks me to his place... where I'll spend the night. With a stranger. My brother.
I shake my head at my absurdity, yet I do it anyway.
And when I lie my
head on Nathan's pillow, atop his bed that he offered for me to sleep, while he spends the night on his couch, I notice that the sweatshirt that has been comforting me all night is Griffin's. Though I'm pissed as hell at him, I pull the hood up over my head, pull the sweatshirt tighter, and cry myself to sleep surrounded by Griffin's scent.
58
Griffin
It's fucking five o'clock in the morning, and Cali's Corolla is nowhere to be found. I checked every rest stop on the way to and from Seaside Heights and back. Nothing. I don't know where to go from here. Nirvana is screaming at me through my car speakers to find a better way, and I just don't know which way that is. "Fuck,” I scream back at them, switching the playlist to something less angry. I locate Daughtry on my iPod and play them, grateful that in my 2002 I put in a new car stereo.
Since I haven't slept in almost twenty-four hours, I decide it's probably best to pull over and sleep, but I don't want to chance missing Cali. So I drive the twenty-five more minutes it takes me to get to her apartment and pull my car in her lot. Of course I'm disappointed that her car is not there, and now I'm awfully worried, because where the fuck could she possibly be at five thirty in the morning?
"Tabitha," I announce quickly to the groggy voice on the other end of the phone. "Did you hear from her?"
It takes a second before I hear anything. "Griffin? What time is... holy shit, Griffin, it's five thirty in the morning. What are you doing calling this early?"
"Have you heard from her?"
I hear a loud sigh. Or is it a yawn? I can't be sure. "No, honey, I didn't." She yawns, this time I can hear it for sure. "I called all our friends," she says mid-yawn. "I even called her mom a few times. Nothing."
"Damn."
"Griff, I'm sure she's fine."
"How can you be so sure? You said yourself you called everyone she knows. What if she's... like hurt or something?"
"Griffin. The only thing hurt is her pride. Give her time. All right? She deserves that, doesn't she? Go home. Sleep. I'm sure she'll show up on your doorstep tomorrow... today, I mean. I don't know. Go. Sleep." And the bitch just hangs up on me.
But I do what she says, and I go home. She's probably right - Cali will most likely show up at my house later today. If not my house, then I'm sure she'll definitely go home to Ellie. With that thought, I go home and sluggishly climb my steps, hitting the bed face first as soon as I enter my room.
The blast of my phone's horn alarm has more effect waking me up today than it usually does. The first thing to assault my mind is that I fucked up everything for Cali. I fucked it up for her and with her. Now I have to try to fix it all, but I have no idea where to find her. I press the speed dial for her number, just hoping that she's back home and that she'll answer.
No luck.
She doesn't answer. And neither does her mother.
My one hope is she'll be at school today, but I doubt it. Which reminds me - I should be in school today too, but this is more important. I figure I'll take a shower, see if she went home, then go to school and look for her. If that doesn't work, I'll seek out Ellie at the diner.
Everyone from her Sociology class walks out but her, including Tabitha.
"Tab." I grab her by the arm to spin her my way.
"Griffin," she says, startled.
"Did you hear from her?" Dipping my hands into my jacket pockets, I pray for a positive response.
With a look of pity in her eyes, she says with regret, "No, honey, I didn't. I'm sorry. But I promise you... she's okay. We would have heard otherwise. I'm sure."
Yeah. That doesn't do me any good. "Yeah. Thanks." I turn to walk back down the hall.
"Griffin," she calls. I turn to look at her. "I promise, I will definitely call you if I hear from her."
"Thanks, Tab." Nodding, I turn back around and decide to try Ellie at her morning job.
"Please leave me alone, Griffin," I hear from Ellie when I try to ask her if she'd heard from Calista.
"Please, Mrs. Parker, I need to find her. She's not home. She hasn't been home all night. I'm worried about her." I tap my hands nervously on the front counter.
"Yeah, well, I'm worried too, but she's a big girl. She'll find her way back." Ellie tucks an errant curl behind her ear. "Now you need to go. I need to work." She moves to turn, but then looks at me. "You might want to call your father. He's pissed. And I'm out of a job."
Holy shit. He fired her? That asswipe. This is all my fault. I wish I had never heard Cali's speech. Then everything would be back to normal.
So now I'm headed to my Wayne home, hoping my father hasn't left for work yet.
When I get there, he's in the kitchen yelling obscenities at my mom.
"There he is," my dad shouts, while my mother's shaking her head, her eyes wide, silently telling me I shouldn't have come. "What the hell, Griffin? I told you not to say anything. Now you go and fucking..."
"Enough, Dad," I say firmly, though my confidence is waning. "I did what I had to do."
"Right. And now I'm doing what I have to do. You're cut off."
"Bucky," my mom scolds. "You can't do that."
"I can. And I will."
"He's my son, too. And that's just wrong."
"Fine, Mom. I don't need his money." I stick my hands in my jacket pockets so my father doesn't see them shaking.
"I want my cars back," my father reprimands. "You don't need my money, you don't need my cars."
"Fine," I murmur, devastated to learn I'm losing my Olds.
"No. Those cars were a gift," my mother says, standing there shaking herself.
"Mom, it's..."
"No, Griffin. Those cars came from me too, not just your father. He's not taking them from you." My mother looks scared shitless, but she's still standing up for me.
"Fine. He can keep the cars, but his education's finished," my father grabs his keys off the counter and leaves out the garage door. Letting us know he's had the last word.
With a resigned sigh, my mother drops to the stool she's standing next to.
"Don't worry, Mom. I only had one more year to go. I can finish it after I..."
"No. You'll finish on time. I have money. Not as much, but I have some that your father left me. Your birth father. Don't worry. You'll finish school." Her fingers nervously run along the edge of the granite counter top.
"Right now, Ma," I shake my head, "it doesn't even seem important."
"How's your girlfriend?"
"Upset with me." I pull out another stool and sit across from Mom.
"She didn't take it well?" My mother's fingers continue to graze the counter, drawing invisible figures in front of her.
"No. And I guess her mother didn't appreciate being bullied into telling her," I admit, drawing my own invisible pictures on the counter too.
"I heard. Looks like Ellie went to your brother too."
"What?" I ask, sitting up straighter.
"That's how your father found out. Your brother called us."
Running my hand over my face, I then ask, "Is he upset?"
"What do you think?" My mother asks, raising her eyebrows just a bit.
"Did..."
"We went to see him yesterday. He was hurt. Barely spoke to us, but we got to explain everything to him." She rubs the back of her neck, shifting it from side to side. "We told him how even though Ellie couldn't afford to raise him, that she wanted to be part of his life and all... of course under your father's conditions." My mother shrugs, embarrassed that my controlling father had to set conditions. "He didn't understand why we couldn't have just told him, since he's known Ellie all his life, but... I guess we should have." Tears start to fall from my mother's eyes, and by the looks of the puffiness around them, this isn't the first she's cried in the last twenty-four hours.
I just sit there tracing figure eights along the counter while I listen to her.
"I guess it was my fault." My mother's knee starts bobbing up and down. "I hated her for having an affair with my husband, eve
n after we were married, that I just... I was hurt," my mother admits.
"I totally get it, Mom."
"Yeah, but poor Nate. He didn't deserve not to know. I mean, you knew that Bucky wasn't your biological father. Nate should have had that chance too. To ask questions and all." She pauses to cry in her hands. When she lifts her head, tears still streaking her face, she smiles. I'm guessing an ironic smile, not a happy smile. "Jealousy. And pride. That's what it was. Your father made the rules, but had I not been jealous and too proud to let the world see that we weren't perfect, I would have talked him into telling Nate. Jealousy is a nasty thing, Griffin. So is pride. Don't ever let it make decisions for you."
I pat my mother on her bouncing knee. "I'm sure he'll come around. He's pretty level-headed."
"Don't you think your girlfriend will come around?"
Sitting against the stool's back, I cross my arms and rest my chin in one hand. "She's not too tolerant of liars. And she's very proud. So..."
"So it's going to be hard," my mom remarks.
"Very." I feel my own eyes start to warm, but I will the tears not to come. Instead, I stand and kiss my mother on the cheek. "I'm sure Nate will be fine. I think I'll go stop by and see him."
"Good idea," my mom says, standing up and hugging me goodbye. "I'm sure he can use the support."
I take a deep breath and nod. "Yeah. We all can."
59
Cali
"Okay, Cali, just make yourself at home. There are leftovers in the fridge, and for Heaven's sake, use the oven. Do not warm up the food in the microwave." Nathan scrunches up his face in horror. "I'll be at the restaurant until just after midnight, so if you need me, call my cell. I hung the number on the refrigerator." He grabs his keys and wallet out of the basket he has sitting on the table by his front door. "And like I said, stay here as long as you need to. I've been looking for a roommate anyway," he laughs. "Kind of a plus that she's my sister too."
"Thank you, Nathan. I appreciate that."
"Hey, what are brothers for?" He walks back towards me and at first he goes to shake my hand, but then he leans down, since he's about five inches taller than me, and kisses me on the top of the head. "Like I said, make yourself at home," he shouts as he walks out the door.
