The Coincidence of Callie and Kayden

by Sorensen, Jessica

  A ways up the hill, he cranks the steering wheel to the right and veers the truck toward a turnout. A long ditch sections across the entrance and he gradually slows down. The truck bumps and then slants as he pumps the gas again and ramps back up, jolting us from left to right. When we’re on flat land again, he directs the bumper at the trees and inches it forward until it’s close, then shoves the shifter into park and turns the engine off.

  A steep hill slopes up in front of us and there is graffiti on the side of a rock in various colors marking dates, lyrics, poems, and declarations of love. There are other vehicles parked next to us and on the road. People are on the path and up on top of the hill. I’m glad we’re not alone, but don’t like that there are a lot of people. It’s kind of problematic.

  He flips the handle and prods the door open with his elbow. “I promise it’s not that far. At least that’s what I’ve been told. If it ends up being intense, just let me know and we can turn back.”

  “Okay, I will.” I push my door open and swing my feet out, avoiding a puddle. I meet him around the front of the truck and tuck my hands into my pockets that are lined with soft fabric and the feel of it brings me comfort, because it reminds me of a teddy bear.

  We walk up the dirt path and pass by a couple sitting on a boulder in hiking boots with backpacks on. They wave at us and Kayden returns the wave while I stare up at a rock that is stained with paint.

  “What is that?” I wonder aloud and read one of the quotes. “Seize the day, take hold of it, and make it whatever you want.”

  He dodges to the side of the path to avoid a large hole and his shoulder accidentally bumps into mine. “I guess it’s a tradition for the seniors at UW to come up here and write words of wisdom to all future seniors.”

  “Rock on and prosper.” I glance at him, my lips quirking. “That’s very deep.”

  He laughs and lines form around his mouth. “I never said they were all words of wisdom, only that I heard that’s what they are supposed to be.”

  I scoot over toward the rocky hill to gain a little distance between us. “It seems like a good idea, kind of. To mark the end with whatever you want.”

  “It does, doesn’t it?” He hops over a massive rock, his lengthy legs stretching as he lands on top of it, and then leaps off the other side. He’s panting, smiling, and proud of himself. “It’s kind of like the whole bonfire thing back in Afton, where we write down our thoughts on a piece of paper and then burn it.”

  “I never went to that,” I admit, clenching my hands into fists. If I had, I would have been tortured by people whispering that I was a devil worshiper who never ate anything. Because my hacked job hair, excessive black eyeliner, and antisocial behavior could have only been the work of the devil.

  “Oh.” He examines me for a while as I pretend not to notice. “Callie, I’d like to get to know you. I mean, you saved my ass and I barely know anything about you.”

  I pluck a leaf off a bush and peel at the waxy edges. “There’s not much to know, really. I’m kind of a boring person.”

  “I doubt that’s true.” He kicks a rock over the ledge of the cliff. “How about I’ll tell you something about me and then you can tell me something about you?”

  “What kinds of things?”

  “Whatever you want.”

  We halt as we reach the end of the path. It widens to an area bordered by hills and boulders and there’s an enormous cliff paved by edges that look like stairs. It’s steep, but climbable.

  “How do we get up?” I drop the leaf onto the ground and tip my head back to look at the top.

  Rubbing his hands together, he grabs a hold of one of the stairs and props his shoe onto the lower one. “We climb up.” With a bounce of his knee, he jumps up, like he’s ascending up a rock wall. Once he’s halfway up, he looks over his shoulder at me. “Are you coming?”

  I glance behind me at the path curving down the hill, and then back up at the cliff. Take a chance for God’s sake. Even though I’m afraid of heights, I grip the coarse edge, bounce onto my toes, and heave myself up. Positioning each of my feet on a ledge, I maneuver my way up to the next one, getting lightheaded the higher I climb. When I look down, I freeze with the fear of splattering against the rocks below. The wind sneaks through my hair and pieces slip loose from the elastic.

  “Are you going to make it?” He stands at the top with his hands on his hips like he’s the king of the world, which would be an awesome job, if it existed. I could wear a crown and everyone would have to listen to me. If I said stay away, then they would.

  I inhale through my nose and move my hand to the next step. “Yeah…” As my fingers slip, I squeeze my eyes tightly and my back bows inward. I’m not going to fall, but it makes me feel helpless and I can’t move.

  “Fuck, Callie,” he says. “Give me your hand.”

  My fingers snag another ledge and I dig them in as my airflow decreases. Dizziness swarms through my brain and my knees tremble, about to buckle underneath me.

  “Callie, open your eyes,” Kayden says in a soft, but commanding voice and I crack an eyelid open. He’s climbed down and his feet are just above my head with his long arm stretched toward me. “Give me your hand and I’ll help you get up.”

  I eye his hand like it’s the devil, because that’s what hands can be; they can own you, pin you down, touch you without permission. Biting my lip, I shake my head. “I can do it on my own. I was just thrown off for a moment.”

  He sighs and the muscles in his arm relax. “You’re afraid of heights, aren’t you?”

  I lean inward until my body is pressed against the jagged rocks. “Slightly.”

  “Give me your hand,” he repeats, his voice is soft, but his eyes are demanding. “And I’ll help you to the top.”

  The wind increases and dust stings at my cheeks. My body heats with my nerves as I shut my eyes and place my hand into his. Our fingers entwine, a shock zips through my arm, and my eyes lift up to him.

  Tightening his grip, Kayden hoist me up, the muscles of his arms flexing until I’m on the next stair. I plant my shoes against it and he gives me a moment before tugging on my arm again and lifting me to the next one. When he reaches the top, he lets go, but only to heave himself up. Then he extends his hand over the ledge and I grab it, trusting him again as he pulls me up. I stumble and my shoes scuff against the dirt as I work to regain my steadiness.

  His hand comes around my back and touches me just above the waist to steady me. My body stiffens as a mixture of emotions gust through me. I like that he’s touching me, the gentleness of his fingers, and the warmth of his nearness. But then my mind flashes back to a big hand shoving at my back until I land on a bed.

  I whirl around with my eyes amplified as strands of my hair float in front of my face. “Don’t touch me, please.”

  “It’s okay,” he says with his hands out in front of him and a cautious look on his face. “I was just helping you get your balance.”

  I reach up to secure the elastic in my hair. “I’m sorry… it’s just that… that had nothing to do with you, I swear. I just have issues.”

  He lowers his hands to his side and watches me for the longest time. “I don’t want to be pushy, but you seem kind of jumpy. Can I… Do you care if I ask why?”

  I aim my gaze to the view over his shoulder. “I’d rather you not.”

  “Okay,” he says simply and faces the opening of the cliff.

  I move up beside to him, leaving a small gap between us. The hills roll for miles; green, flourishing, dotted with trees and hikers. The blue sky is endless and the sun illuminates through the thin white clouds. There’s a breeze coming upward and also across and as they collide it makes me feel as if I’m flying.

  “It kind of reminds me of that painting Mr. Garibaldi had on his wall.” Kayden rubs his scruffy chin thoughtfully.

  “The one he was so proud of? And talked about all the time?” I leave my hands at my hips but bring them out a little and put my palms fl
at as I imagine what it’s like to be a bird, flying up high and free.

  He laughs and his head falls forward, his hair falling across his forehead. “Did he tell that story to every class?”

  I roll my tongue around in my mouth as I restrain a smile. “I think it was a tradition. It was his way of bragging that there was a time in his life where he wasn’t stuck in a classroom.”

  He raises his head back up and exhales gradually. “How long do you want to stay up here?”

  I shrug and turn for the ledge. “We can go back, if you want.”

  “I don’t want to go back,” he says and I pause. “Unless you do?”

  I glance back out at the hills. “I’d like to stay here longer if that’s okay?”

  “It’s perfectly okay.” He sits down in the dirt and crosses his legs as he stretches them out in front of him. Then he pats the spot next to him.

  I stare at it for a long time before I drop to the ground and cross my legs too. My muscles constrict at the fact that our legs are so close, but I don’t move over.

  “I kind of hate football,” he reveals as he pulls one of his legs up and drapes his arm on top of his knee.

  “Oh, yeah,” I say, startled. “How come?”

  His finger trails along the scar that runs down half his cheekbone. “The violence sometimes gets to me.”

  I rest back on the palms of my hands. “I don’t like football either. There’s only one purpose and that’s to dominate.”

  He laughs, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t go that far, but I get your point. I’m the quarterback, though, so all I really do is throw the ball.”

  I drag my pinkie back and forth in the dirt. “I know what position you play and what a quarterback does. My father’s a coach and therefore I got to listen to a recap of every game and practice when we were eating dinner.”

  “Your dad’s a nice guy, though,” he states, cutting me a sideways glance. “I like him.”

  I know I shouldn’t ask, but I can’t help it. It’s been bothering me for months that I just left him after he’d been beaten up. I never really believed that it was the only time his dad hit him. That much rage doesn’t just come once and then dissolve.

  “Kayden, what happened that night? That night I was at your house… and your dad, well, when he hit you. Did that ever happen before?”

  “I think it’s your turn to tell me something about you,” he evades the question, his hands balling into fists, and his knuckles are so white the scars on them blend away.

  “I don’t have much to say about myself.” I refuse to look at him as I shrug. “Nothing particularly interesting anyway.”

  He raises his hand, making a pinching position with his finger and thumb. “Come on. Just one tiny detail. That’s all I’m asking for.”

  Frowning, I rack my brain for an intriguing detail about me that won’t be very personal. My shoulders rise up and down as I shrug. “I like to kick box down at The Tune up Gym sometimes.”

  “Kick box?” he questions, his forehead creasing. “Really?”

  I pick the dirt out of my cracked fingernails. “It’s a good way to relax.”

  His eyes scan my body from my toes to my face and my cheeks heat. “You look too tiny to be a kick boxer. I can’t picture those little legs of yours being able to do very much damage.”

  If I were braver, I would challenge him to a match right here, just to prove him wrong.

  I angle my chin up to the sky and place my hand in front of my eyes to block out the brightness of the sunlight. “I don’t do it for sport, just for fun. It’s a good way to… I don’t know…” I trail off because the rest is too personal.

  “To take your inner anger out,” he says it more to himself than me.

  I nod. “Yeah, kind of.”

  “You know what?” He looks at me with a smile expanding at his full lips. “The next time you go, you should call me. My coach, who’s kind of a dick compared to your dad, has been hounding me to get into better shape. Then you can show me how much damage that little body of yours can do. I’ll even tone it down and give you a chance to pin me down.”

  I bite on my lip to keep from smiling. “Alright, but I don’t go that often.”

  “Only when you feel like kicking some ass?” he teases with a crook of his eyebrow.

  My lips twitch to a tiny smile. “Yeah, something like that.”

  He turns sideways so he’s facing me and crisscrosses his legs. “Okay, I have another question. I actually just remembered this. I think it was back in fifth grade and your family was over at my house for one of those stupid barbeques my dad has every Super Bowl. Somehow a collector football disappeared from my dad’s display case and everyone thought it was my brother Tyler that did it, because he was acting weird, but really he was just wasted. But I swear to fucking God I saw you walking out to your car with it under your shirt.”

  I tuck my feet under my butt as I cover my hands over my face. “My brother told me to do that. He said if I stole it for him he wouldn’t tell my mom that I was the one who broke one of her silly little collector unicorns.” I pause and it gets really quiet. Finally, I work up the courage to peek between the cracks in my fingers. “I’m really sorry.”

  He scrutinizes me and then a slow smile forms on his face. “Callie, I’m just messing with you. I don’t care if you did it. In fact, it’s kind of funny.”

  “No, it’s not,” I say. “It’s horrible. I bet your brother got into trouble.”

  “Nah, he was eighteen.” He draws my hand away from my face. “And when my dad started being a douche, he just left.”

  “I feel like a douche. I think my brother still has it in his room. I should make him give it to you.”

  “No way.” He’s still holding my hand as he guides my arm toward my knees. I’m very aware of his fingertips touching my wrist right above my hammering pulse and I’m conflicted on whether or not to pull away. “My dad can go without some of his shit.”

  “Are you sure?” I can’t take my eyes off his hand on my arm. “I swear I can give it back.”

  He laughs softly and then his fingers graze the inside of my wrist, causing my entire body to shiver. “I promise. No harm, no foul.”

  “I’m really sorry,” I repeat.

  He looks at me with this strange expression, like he’s conflicted about something. He licks his lips and then presses them together, holding his breath.

  I’ve often wondered what a guy would look like when he was about ready to kiss me. Would it be the same as my first and only kiss; a glimmer of conquer blazing within the pupils? Or would it be something else entirely different? Something less terrifying? Filled with more passion and desire?

  Turning back to the cliff, he frees my wrist and his hand begins to tremor. He flexes it, elongating his fingers and letting out a sigh.

  “What’s wrong with your hand?” I ask, struggling to maintain a steady voice. “Did you hurt it climbing up?”

  He balls it into a fist and places it on his lap. “It’s nothing. I just broke a few bones a while ago and it gets that way sometimes.”

  “Does it effect how you play?”

  “Sometimes, but I can handle it.”

  I stare at the scars on his knuckles, remembering the night when they were split open. “Can I ask you a question?”

  He stretches out his legs and leans back on his hands. “Sure.”

  “How did you get the scars on your hand?” I reach out to touch them, the need to feel him so intense it temporarily overpowers my doubts, but life catches up with me and I swiftly move my hand away.

  Putting his weight on one arm, he elevates his hand out in front of him. At the bottom of each finger is a thick white scar. “I punched a wall.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Not on purpose,” he adds, and then makes a path with his finger along each bump and groove. “Accidents happen sometimes.”

  I recollect his dad slamming his fist into his face. “Yeah, I guess they do, but so
metimes bad things happen on purpose by the hands of bad people.”

  He nods, then gets to his feet, and dusts the dirt off his jeans. “We should head back. I got a killer Literature paper I have to write.” He offers me his hand to help me up, but I just can’t bring myself to take it.

  I turn over onto my hands and knees and push myself to my feet. “Now I just have to make it back down,” I say with a sigh as I walk toward the cliff and peek over the edge.

  He laughs quietly as he follows behind me. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you down, if you’ll let me.”