by J. P. Grider
63
Cali
When Nathan informs me that Mom wasn't at work today, that his jerk of a father fired her, my heart plunges deeper into my stomach. First Dad dies, then I run off on her, now she loses her main source of income. How could I let this happen? If I had never met Griffin, Mom could have mourned my father in peace. Instead, she's met face to face with a past she intended to keep there.
I find her at home taking the sheets and the blankets off Dad's hospital bed.
"Hi, Mom," I say quietly, my stomach lurching, I'm so nervous.
She continues folding the blankets. "Calista." Her tone is clipped. Her expression - unreadable.
Fidgeting with my fingers, I stand still, once again fighting back more tears. I haven't cried as many tears in my whole lifetime as I have in the past twenty-four hours.
With a white blanket still in her hands, Mom turns and sits on Dad's stripped bed, laying the blanket on her lap beneath her folded hands. Her hands, folded on her lap. "Calista. Can you please sit?"
She doesn't say a word until I'm sitting on the couch directly across from her.
When she raises her head, her eyes are pained. Old. As if she'd aged twenty years since yesterday. "I had my reasons for not telling you and your father," she starts in a whisper. "But I never meant it to hurt you. I want you to believe that, Calista."
"I do, Mom," I reassure her, even though I don't quite understand why she had to keep a secret from the people that meant the most to her in the world.
"I mean, originally, I meant to tell your father... before we got married. But then," her eyes cast down again and she takes a deep breath. "He kept talking about how he couldn't wait to have a baby with me, and..." she returns her eyes in my direction, "he said how much he was looking forward to experiencing the birth of our first child together, and... I just couldn't bring myself to tell him." She stands and returns to cleaning out Dad's corner. "Then the secret just got away from me. I was reminded of it daily, but... I didn't want to ruin my marriage to your father. I loved him, Calista. I... I didn't mean to continue..." My mother stops talking and starts putting the stuff on my dad's nightstand into an old shoe box.
"Mom?"
She doesn't look at me, but I know she hears me.
"You continued seeing him, didn't you?"
My mother doesn't respond to me right away.
But I don't rush her. I'm not sure I want to hear the answer.
Turning my way, holding a glass of water that my father had never finished, my mother says, "Yes, Calista, early in my marriage, I did start seeing Bucky again."
"Bucky?" My voice quivers.
"Nathan Senior. Everyone calls him Bucky." Though I see shame written in the somber expression on my mother's face, the unnatural way in which she stands erect is a defensive one.
So I refrain from passing judgment. "Did you love him?" I think that's a fair enough question.
"Yes. In a way. He was my first, so..."
And suddenly I'm able to see the scared young woman unable to afford the baby she was carrying. And the torch she must have carried for the man that raised him. I'm heartbroken for my father, but it's not difficult to understand how her secret lasted for so long.
"Did you love Daddy?" Another fair question, in my opinion.
"Oh, Calista, more than life." Her head sways and she sits back down on the bed with my father's glass cupped between both her hands. "I wasn't always with Bucky. I need you to know that. It happened only a few times after I married your father... maybe once... or twice a year. He was... It was difficult... to end things. He was my boss, and Nathan Junior's father... and..." She sits up straighter. "But eventually, I was able to tell him no, Calista. I told him I needed it to end. And... he agreed. He had a wonderful wife, and she found out... and I really shouldn't be sharing this with you, but... I'm not perfect, Calista. I'm flawed. But I never, ever meant to hurt you and your father. Never." Her shoulders droop, and her tears finally fall.
"We're all flawed, Mom." I walk over to her and sit with her on my father's rented bed. "I understand," I tell her as I reach my arms around her and hug her.
64
Griffin
"Man, you've been in a mood all week. Take your anger out on your own shit," Joey scolds when I carelessly toss his anti-static gun aside.
I'm crouched down in front of my Olds, finishing up the last of the prep work before I spray the first coat of paint on it. My response to him is a glare, because I don't feel like talking. He's right, though. I have been in a mood all week. I haven't seen or heard from Cali since she walked away from me last Tuesday.
"Griffin." Joey shouts.
I stand and glare again.
"What's your problem? I know it's that girl. Why can't you just forget her?"
"Shut the fuck up, Joe." I'm inside the cabinet pulling out the primer and the spray gun when Joey's calloused hand lands on my arm.
"You're not painting that car until you've calmed down. You haven't even laid all the plastic down."
I slam the primer and gun back down on the shelf and go get the roll of plastic.
"Be silent all you want, Griff, just don't take it out on my garage."
"Fuuuuck," I shout. "I can't do this." I punch the cinder-block wall and silently curse myself when the pain sets in. Grabbing the dirty rag from my back pocket, I use it to cover my bloodied hand.
"Yeah, good way to get it infected." Joey takes my rag and replaces it with bunched up paper towels.
I hold the towels over my knuckles and take a seat at the desk. "I'm fucked, Joe," I mumble into my fisted hands.
"It'll heal. It's just your hand," he jokes.
"Not funny." I sulk.
"Since you haven't said a word all week, aside from a couple of fucks here and there, I have no idea what you're so upset about." Joey sits behind the desk across from me. "I'm here to listen if you want."
Pulling my hands toward my stomach, I sit back against the chair and groan, like a baby. Maybe more like a whine, because I feel like such a girl.
"Did she dump you or something?" Joey asks, clicking his blue pen repetitively.
I shrug. Did she? "I guess. Her dad died last Monday..."
"Oh man. That's rough." He stops clicking the pen momentarily, but starts again when I open my mouth.
"Yeah. But that's not the rough part... can you stop that, man, it's annoying," I say, referring to his pen clicking.
He puts the pen down.
"Found out that her mother had a baby before she was born. Not her father's baby."
"Ouch."
"Wait."
Joey raises his eyebrows. Sips his coffee.
"My father's baby."
"What? Did you fuck her, man? 'Cause that'd be gross."
"Not my biological father. My step-father. Thank God."
Joey shakes his head. "Still. So where's this kid?"
With a dramatic glare... and pause, I finally say, "Nate."
Joey tosses his head back in ironic laughter. "Oh shit."
"Yeah... So she found out I knew about it and didn't tell..."
"Wait. You knew?"
"Only for like less than a week before her mother told her. It all went down the night her father died."
"Christ," Joey remarks, picking up his pen again.
"Yeah. And now, not only is she pissed I didn't tell her, but I think she's grossed out by the fact that my brother is her brother. I'm fucked."
"Man, Griff. That is tough. I don't know what to tell ya." He puts his pen down and sits back. "What're you gonna do?"
My heart sits in my stomach, and I wanna puke. I just shrug.
"Her best friend told me they had to donate her dad's body to some school, 'cause they couldn't afford to bury him."
"Really?"
"Yup. And I found out she hasn't been back to school because she had to go back to work full-time."
"Damn, that sucks." Joey says, throwing his feet up on the desk and crossing his hands be
hind his head. "Her mother doesn't make enough on her own?"
I shake my head but don't answer. Instead, I pull my phone out of my back pocket and call Nate. "Just calling my brother," I tell Joey. He drops his feet back on the floor and goes back to whatever he was doing before calling me out on my anger.
"Nate."
"Yeah, Griff."
"What's going on with Ellie's job? Did Dad let you hire her back?"
There's silence on the other end.
"He said no?" I exclaim, so mad I'm about to kick Joe's desk. But I don't.
"He said she broke the contract," he says regretfully.
"Fuck."
"Listen, Griff. I have an idea. I've wanted to take a break from the restaurant for a while now. Go back to school. Get my masters. The only one who could run this place with no training is Ellie. So I'm thinking I'll threaten Dad. I'll make sure he pays her at least close to what he pays me. He won't have to pay me. I won't be working. So..." He pauses. Is this to allow me to respond?
"He's not gonna go for it."
"I think he might. She is my mother after all. Listen Griff, it's busy here. I gotta go. I'll let you know what happens."
"Yeah. Thanks."
"Everything cool?" Joey asks when I get up and leave the desk.
"Who the fuck knows?"
"Need help?"
"With what?"
"With anything."
"Gonna start priming if you wanna help with that?"
"I'd love to."
Joey locks the outside garage door so no one can interrupt, and then we enter the spray booth where my Olds sits ready for her makeover. Though I've been depressed over losing Cali, and what she's going through with losing her father, a slight thrill runs through my veins. I'm finally going to see the results of my hard work. She's finally going to come to life.
65
Cali
The vein in my neck twitches. My fingernails are cutting into my palms. I'm clenching my jaw to keep from screaming at my mother.
"What do you mean they're kicking us out?" My voice stays as steady as I can keep it at the moment - which isn't very steady.
"I haven't paid the rent for the past six months, Cali. I've been a little busy," my mother tells me, sipping coffee across from me at the kitchen table.
"Too busy to pay the rent," I state, not ask, trying my best not to strangle her.
"Yeah, Calista. Busy. Two jobs, your father, not to mention we didn't have money to pay."
"Mom. Why didn't you just tell me?" I ask, my fists still curled on the table. "I told you before I would have quit school. I mean, I had to anyway. I never even had to start. I could have been paying the rent. And besides, come to think of it, I was working full-time only until two months ago. We're six months behind. Why?"
"All that money was going towards paying Millicent and for Daddy's meds. I just..."
"Millicent?" I cut in. "I thought you got that covered by Medicaid or something."
"No, not all of it. I've been paying what they wouldn’t cover. I didn't want you to have to care for your father. No daughter your age should have to do that." My mother has now resorted to tears.
"Oh my God, Mom, what are we going to do now? Can we pay him what we have and tell him we'll owe him the rest? Tell him I went back to work full-time and... and I'll even get a second job...at the food store or something."
Now holding her head in her hands, she shakes her head. "I've tried, baby. He said he gave me plenty of notices. They served me with legal papers two days ago."
"Oh my God, Mom. Oh my God." My head is now dropped in my own hands. Two pathetic soon-to-be homeless women. "Should I ask Tabitha..."
My mother's head snaps up as she interrupts me. "No. We do not lower ourselves and ask for help. We'll just...we'll go to a shelter."
"A shelter?" I bang my fist on the table. "And you feel better about that than asking my best friend if we can stay with her?"
"You know how I feel about that, Calista." She picks up her coffee again but just stares into the cup.
“Well… what about Nate? He said he was looking for…”
“I will not ask Nathan Junior for his help, that would just be… no. I will not.”
I pick up my coffee cup and throw it against the wall behind the stove.
"Calista," my mom exclaims, slamming down her mug.
"What's the difference, Mom? It's not like we can take that cup with us to the shelter." I get up and look around the kitchen. "It's not like we can take any of our shit to the shelter now, can we?"
My mom's shoulders slink, but I don't care. She did this to us. Her pride is so fucking much that she couldn't even come to me for help. Her own daughter. What good is keeping your pride when you end up losing everything else in the process?
I take the kitchen chair and slam it against the table, causing my mother's coffee to splatter out of her mug and onto her blouse. I don't care. I'm so fucking angry that she's lucky I didn't toss the whole god-damned kitchen table. When I leave the kitchen, I hear my mother sob. But I don't care. I grab my purse and keys off my dresser and notice my dead plant. If I'm not mistaken, it actually looks a little bit green. With a loud sigh, I decide to take it off the windowsill and carry it out with me.
66
Griffin
My car.
It's done.
I can finally drive it again.
The interior was the toughest to restore, but I did it. What an awesome feeling to finish something I started. It's like building that tree house all over again. Only this time, I get to keep it.
The first thing I want to do is pick up Cali and go for a drive. But then reality sets in. I haven't seen or spoken to her in over a month.
So instead, I take my '69 Hurst Olds 442, which now actually looks like a '69 Hurst Olds 442, out of the garage and on to the street, in search of, well, nothing. But since I am close to Cali's bank, I make a right into the lot to see if her car is there.
It's not.
So I continue past her apartment on Barbour Street.
Her car is not there either.
In fact, there are no curtains on the windows and it looks vacated.
Within seconds, my chest is pounding and my hands are sweating. Where the fuck could she be?
I think about calling her, but I promised her time, so I don't call. I call her best friend instead.
"Hey," Tabitha doesn't sound so happy when she answers.
"Where is she?" No need to tell her who I'm talking about. I'm sure she can surmise.
"Griffin." She sounds devastated.
"What? Where the fuck is she?"
"At a homeless shelter in Paterson."
My chest stops pounding. Because my heart sinks into my stomach. My arms drop to my side, causing my grip on the phone to let go. No fucking way. She can't be living in a homeless shelter.
"Griffin, you there? Griffin." Tabitha's voice is far away, but my mind won't let my body reach for the phone. I'm in shock.
I hear Tabitha's call a few more times, but I don't reach for the phone. I can't. I sit there stunned for I'm not sure how long when I finally have the strength to pick up the phone and dial.
But it goes to voice mail.
So I text.
Calista. I miss you. Please call me.
Then I recline my seat as far as it will go - which isn't far because it's an old fucking car - and I go to sleep. Right there in Cali's parking lot. With my cell phone on my chest just in case Cali texts back.
When I wake up, it's eleven at night. No text back from Cali. I start my car and head towards the restaurant. When I get there, Nate is in the kitchen with the last of his crew.
"Griffin. What's up?" Nate asks, surprised to see me.
"I thought Ellie got her job back."
"She did." Nate turns from me to go in his office. He tucks his receipts in an envelope and starts writing in his book.
"I thought you were giving her a raise. Cause you were going to school."
I sit at the chair in front of his desk. "So she didn't get that raise yet?"
"No, Griff. But I got Dad to agree, so once she starts managing, he's going to pay her enough." He puts his pen down and crosses his hands. "In fact, I was able to get him to agree to come down and meet with her. They talked. He forgave her. Which if you ask me, she did nothing wrong, but you know Bucky." We tend to call my father by his nickname when we're talking sarcastically about him.
"Unfortunately."
"He's not that bad, Griff. He's controlling and stubborn, but he's a good guy in the end." Nate picks up his pen, writes something down, and closes his book. "So why are you here eleven-thirty on a Thursday night?"
I take a deep breath. "They're living in a shelter."
"Who is?"
"Cali... and Ellie."
Nate sits back against his chair, gripping onto the chair's arms. "No," he breathes.
"Yeah. Cali's best friend told me. I didn't get to ask her what happened." I was too stunned to say anything. "I assume they hadn't been paying the rent. I can't see why else they would move into a homeless shelter."
"Damn." Nate puts his chin in his hand. "She's a proud woman. Probably didn't want me feeling sorry for her."
"Yeah, well, Cali quit school. She's homeless. I have to get her out of this situation.”
"I don't know if you're looking for me to help, Griff, but I don't have control of Dad's money. He's not going to give her that raise until I've properly trained her and I'm gone."
"Fuck." My insides are screaming to get out of my skin. I'm on the verge of screaming out loud right here. "Fuck," I say louder.
