Callie the Courageous.
Cole’s wrestling nickname for me has become an anchor of strength. I know it’s silly. It probably meant nothing more than clever alliteration to him. But it meant something to me. The way he looked into my eyes when he said it that night made me feel seen. His gaze pierces through my armor of lies—always has, since the day we met—and he hears the words I leave unspoken.
How? How can someone I barely know make me feel so understood?
I still don’t know Cole’s whole story, the burden he carries around like a heavy cross on his back. But I want to. And maybe therein lies my problem. I want to bear the weight of everyone’s problems except my own.
As we roll to a stop in front of my house, I decide it’s time to focus on my problems, once and for all. Face my demons.
Face him.
Josie lets me lead and follows me up the walkway. I’m unsure if I should knock or walk in. I hesitate, and then Dan swings open the door to spare me.
“Hi, Callie. He’s in the living room.”
“Thanks, Dan.”
At the sound of my voice, Maverick comes galloping into the foyer. His legs slide out from under him as he struggles for traction on the tile. I bend down to meet him, and he leaps into my arms, frantic as he licks my face.
I bury my face in his fur. “I know, bud. I’ve missed you too. It’s okay. I know.”
“He’s been beside himself since you left.”
My head snaps up at the sound of Paul’s voice, and I gasp when I catch sight of his face. Both eyes are swollen, the left completely shut, and deep-purple bruises line his cheeks and jaw.
“Jesus,” Josie whispers behind me.
I push to my feet and take a few tentative steps.
Paul rushes toward me, arms outstretched, and a sob escapes him. I remain where I stand and let him wrap his arms around me, engulfing me in his embrace.
“We’ve both been a mess here without you. I’m so sorry, Callie. I’m sorry. Please believe me.”
He crushes me against his body, tighter with each passing second. I pat his back gently to console him, absorbing his raw emotion pouring out and making it my own. Tears threaten to spill over my lids, but I blink up to the ceiling to keep them at bay.
He finally releases me and edges back, only a little. “You seem happier to see Maverick than you do me.”
“Can you blame her?” Josie interjects before I can say a word. “Maverick didn’t strangle her the other night. You did.”
“Josie, please.” I reach out and squeeze her hand. “I’ve got this.”
She shakes her head at him, her top lip curled into a snarl. “We let you around our children. We let you into our home. And this is what you’re really like? This is what you’ve been doing to Callie all this time?”
Paul runs his fingers through his disheveled hair, pulling at the ends of it. “I’m sorry, Josie. I’m sorry about everything.”
“Yeah, well, so am I. I’m sorry Callie ever fucking met you.”
Dan wraps his arm around her waist. “Come on. That’s enough. Cal, we’ll be in the kitchen if you need us.”
Josie whips her head over her shoulder. “So don’t try anything, asshole. You think my brother beat you badly? I’ll rip your dick off so fast you won’t even know what hit you!”
I cringe, covering my face with my hands as Dan ushers her into the next room.
Paul blows out a breath through his lips. “Do you want to sit so we can talk?”
I nod and follow him toward the couch. “I don’t know where to begin,” I admit, taking a seat on the cushion beside him.
“Then let me.” He takes my hands into his and stares down at them. “I’m so sorry, Callie. I know you’ve heard it before, and you probably don’t believe me, but I truly am sorry for hurting you.”
“I know you are.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “You do?”
“I know you regret putting your hands on me. I know this isn’t something you take pleasure in. But apologizing doesn’t do anything to fix the problem, Paul. An apology becomes a lie if you keep doing the thing you’re sorry for.”
He nods. “I get it. Just tell me what I can do to fix this. I want to fix it, Callie. I don’t want to lose you.”
“I don’t know how to fix the kind of problem you have. I think you need to go to therapy, or anger management.”
“Done. I’ll do it. I’ll go tomorrow.”
I chew my bottom lip.
“Is that enough?” he asks. “If I get help, will that make you come back home?”
“I ... I don’t know.”
His head jerks back. “What are you saying?”
“I don’t know.” I pinch the bridge of my nose between my thumb and my index finger. “I don’t have a solution. I don’t have an answer for you. All I do know is that you need help, and so do I.”
His hand clamps over my knee. “We can go together. We can work through this. I know we can.”
“I think we need to go separately before we can go together.”
“Fine. I’ll go alone. Whatever you want me to do, it’s done.”
That doesn’t sit right with me. “Paul, do you realize what you just said?”
His head tilts. “What?”
“You said you’ll do whatever I want you to do. But this isn’t about what I want. This is about what you need. What you should want for yourself. I don’t want you to go to therapy because you think that’s what will get me to forgive you. I want you to go to therapy because you want to.”
“You know what I mean, Callie. Of course I want to go and get help.”
“Why now? Why not last month, or the month before that, or last year? Why do you suddenly have the urge to go to therapy?”
“Because you left. Because I realize now that I’m going to lose you if I don’t stop and change.”
My heart sinks. “And if I had never left? Then you’d be perfectly fine hurting me and going around and around this sick merry-go-round we’re on?”
Paul shakes his head emphatically. “You’re twisting my words. I never said that.”
Irritation surges in my stomach. It rises up through my chest and into my throat. The words I’ve kept on a low simmer inside me for so long are now searing my tongue, and they bubble out of me like hot acid.
I pull my hair over one shoulder, exposing my neck. “Look what you did to me, Paul. Look at this! Again and again, you’ve gotten so out of control that you put your hands on me. Any time I’ve spoken up, any time I’ve tried to tell you how I feel, any time I’ve told you what I want, you snuff me out like a candle, as if I don’t matter. As if my words don’t mean anything to you. You’ve made me feel worthless and insignificant! You get to do and say whatever you want, but I have to sit in silence. I have to obey. I have to follow your rules. Why is that? Why don’t you want to hear what I have to say? Are you so insecure that you can’t stand the thought of me doing something for myself?”
“No, Callie. That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?” Rage and resentment fuel the fire that’s ignited within me. “You want me to be yours, Paul. To belong to you. But I’m not a possession. I’m a person. I wanted to be part of an us, a partnership where I could still be me. Somehow, I ended up losing myself along the way.”
Paul’s index finger jabs the air between us. “You lost yourself once you became obsessed with having kids. That’s all you cared about! You forgot about me, about our marriage. You only wanted to have sex when your stupid fertility app told you to. Do you forget how depressed you were? Do you not remember lying in bed, day after day, because you refused to come to terms with the fact that having a baby isn’t going to happen? And who took care of you during that time? Who picked you up off the bathroom floor and held you while you cried? Who went to endless doctor’s appointments and treatments? Who took care of you after you insisted that surgery was going to cure you? Me, Callie. It was me! So don’t act like I’ve been this horrible monster, b
ecause we both know that isn’t true.”
Guilt spills over the flame, cooling me down for a moment. “You’re right. You did take care of me. And I take responsibility for the part that I played in ruining our marriage. I know what I put you through, and I blame myself every single day. I wouldn’t have been able to get through that time without you by my side.”
Paul’s expression softens as he cups my face. “It kills me that I wasn’t able to give you the family you’ve always dreamed of.”
A tear slides down my cheek. “I know it does. It kills me I wasn’t able to give you children.”
“But we have each other.” He pulls me closer and presses his lips to my forehead. “We still have each other.”
“I don’t know what we have anymore, Paul. I don’t even feel like I have myself at this point. I don’t know who I am, or what I’m doing with my life. I want to work. I want to go out and experience life.” I pause before pushing out the rest of my words. “And I want to adopt a baby.”
“We can do all of that. You can work, and we can fill out an adoption application tomorrow.”
I pull back, and Paul’s hands drop into his lap. “Just like that? All of a sudden you’re singing a different tune?”
He heaves a sigh. “I know I didn’t want those things before, but I want to be with you more than anything else. You’re all that matters to me. So, whatever you want, I want you to have it. Don’t you see? I’m willing to make this work.”
More tears stream down my cheeks, frustration nearly choking me. “Why couldn’t you have wanted to make it work before? Why couldn’t you have been this open, this compassionate, this understanding? I’ve tried to have this conversation with you on multiple occasions, but you shut me down every time! You made me feel like I was wrong for wanting to explore other options. Why, Paul? Why?”
He pulls me against him, and I bury my face in his chest, weeping.
How can it be that the man comforting me is the same man who raised his hands to hurt me?
How am I finding solace in the same arms that broke me down?
Why do I miss the person I fled from?
I feel sick. I don’t know what to do. It’s like someone threw my head and my heart into a blender, and everything got all jumbled.
I know what I want for myself, but I don’t know whether I can achieve that if I stay with Paul. Is he capable of change, really and truly? Have abusive men become calm, loving husbands?
Paul has beaten me down mentally and physically for so long that I can’t even trust my own thoughts. Are they mine? Are they his? Or are fear and guilt warping my reality?
I lean away from him, wiping my eyes with the backs of my hands. “I need some time to think, Paul.”
His eyebrows dip down. “Think about what?”
“About what I’m going to do.”
“You need to think about whether or not you want to be with me?” He scoffs, shaking his head. “How can you say you love me but not know if you want to be with me?”
I rise from the couch and look down at him. “The same way you can tell me you love me and hit me.”
Nineteen
Cole
I haven’t seen Callie since we sat by the pool last week.
Yet the saying out of sight, out of mind hasn’t proven to be true.
I half-expected her to return to Paul, to crawl back into the comfort of her familiar patterns, but she hasn’t.
Josie filled me in on what happened when Callie packed some of her belongings from her home. All the things she said to Paul, how she didn’t give in and let him weasel his way back into her life with empty promises and flat-out lies.
Courageous Callie.
My heart soars with pride. I’m not even going to attempt to analyze why.
So, when a flash of blond goes past the large window at Gertie’s, my head snaps around, and my heart skips a beat. My feet carry me outside before my brain even realizes what I’m doing.
“Callie!”
She spins around, and a smile blooms on her face when she spots me. “Hey, Cole. What are you doing here?”
I nod my head in the direction of the diner. “Grabbing lunch. What about you? This is far from home.”
She points toward a building behind me. “Just came from a job interview.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Really? How did it go?”
She shrugs. “Everyone keeps telling me I don’t have experience for the jobs I’m applying for. Don’t know how to gain experience if nobody hires me.”
“Ah. That’s the worst part of job hunting. I’m sorry.”
She waves her hand. “It’s fine.”
I know her eyes underneath those sunglasses would tell me otherwise.
“Are you busy now?” I ask. “Feel like joining me for lunch?”
She adjusts the strap of her purse on her shoulder. “You wouldn’t mind?”
“Not at all. Come on.”
Billy’s brown eyes almost pop out of his head when Callie takes the red stool beside me.
“Callie, this is Billy. We work together at the construction site.”
She leans over and clasps her hand in his outstretched one. “It’s nice to meet you, Billy.”
“Likewise.”
His eyes rove over her as she shakes off her blazer, revealing a silky royal-blue tank. Can’t blame him for staring, because her creamy skin captures my attention as well. It’s the most skin I’ve seen her expose.
I suppose this is how she normally dresses when she doesn’t have any bruises to hide.
“What’s good here?” She pushes her sunglasses up onto her head while she flips through the menu.
“Everything, sugar.” Gertie smiles wide as she presses her hands onto the counter. “Then again, I’m biased. I own the joint.”
“Then I’ll let you surprise me.” Callie flips her menu closed. “I’m not picky.”
Gertie looks between the two of us before her gaze settles back on Callie. “I’m Gertrude, though everyone here calls me Gertie.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Gertie. I’m Callie. I’m a friend of Cole’s.”
“Friend?” Billy blurts out. “Cole’s got friends?”
I flip him off.
Callie laughs. “I’m the only one, I think.”
“Can’t imagine why.” Billy claps me on the back. “He’s so charming and friendly. Always has a smile on his face.”
“All right, all right.” I point at Callie. “You’re not invited to lunch anymore.”
She grins and nudges me with her shoulder. It makes me happy to see her like this. Different. Lighter.
“You’re all dressed up,” Gertie says. “Do you work around here?”
Callie shakes her head. “Just came from a job interview. I’ve been striking out all week.”
“Where did you apply? I know everyone on this street. I can put in a good word for you.”
“Oh, that’s sweet of you. I had an interview at Tommy’s Coal Fired Pizza.”
“As a waitress?” Billy asks.
“As a part-time chef.”
Gertie’s eyebrows lift. “You cook?”
“Well, my grandfather owned a small restaurant when I was a teenager. I used to help him cook and create different recipes. I loved it. I wanted to take over the business after he passed, but my father insisted I go to college and get a degree instead.”
“You’re hired.”
All three of our heads snap to Gertie.
“I’m sorry?” Callie asks.
“You need a job, and I’m looking for some help in the kitchen. You’ll be the perfect fit.”
Callie’s eyebrows dip down. “Are you serious? You’re really willing to hire me on the spot like this?”
Gertie narrows her eyes at me. “Do you vouch for your friend? Will she be a reliable worker?”
I look into Callie’s eyes, wide and round as saucers. “You won’t find anyone better.”
Gertie claps. “Then it’s settled.
You can start tomorrow.” She takes Callie’s menu and saunters into the kitchen.
Callie’s mouth is left open. “I can’t believe that just happened.”
“Everything happens for a reason.” Billy winks. “It’s a good thing Cole spotted you walking by.”
Callie’s hand touches my forearm. “Thank you so much. I owe you one.”
I shake my head. “You don’t owe me anything. I’m happy to help.”
She slumps forward onto the counter, resting her head in her hand. “I’m so happy I don’t have to go on any more interviews. I’ve only been on four, but that was torture.”
“Gertie will take you under her wing,” Billy says. “She’s great. You’ll love working for her.”
Billy continues to talk through most of lunch, as usual. Callie laughs at all his lame jokes, and her smile has the corners of my mouth tipping up too. It’s a nice reprieve from the mundane workday.
After we say goodbye to Callie and pay the bill, Gertie stops me before I reach the door.
“That was her, wasn’t it? The woman you told me about?”
I nod. “She left her husband. Moved in with my sister for a while. It’s been tough on her. I really appreciate you giving her a job.”
Gertie pats my shoulder. “Don’t you worry about it. I’ll take good care of her.”
“I know you will, Gertie.”
“She’s beautiful, too.”
I hike a nonchalant shoulder. “Sure.”
“I see the way you look at her.” She clicks her tongue. “And though it might be a little too soon for her, she looks at you the same way. She just doesn’t know it yet. So, you be patient. Don’t rush it. Give her space.”
I hold my hands up on either side of my head. “There’s nothing to rush. Trust me.”
“Boy, how can I trust you when you don’t even trust your own damn self?”
I shake my head. “See you tomorrow, Gertie.”
“Uh-huh. That’s what I thought.”
Crazy old lady.
Work ends earlier than it usually does.
I don’t mind working long hours, but today is especially hot, so I’m thankful to be done. I’d give anything to have a truck with working AC right about now.
What's Left of Me Page 14
