The Coincidence of Callie and Kayden (17 page)

He’s right. I should just go upstairs and screw the first girl I come across. It’s the best way to pass time and get through life, but I can’t stop thinking about my hand and my fucking future.

Finally I get up from the couch. Walking toward the wall, I glance at the door. Then I lift my fist and hammer it into the wall as hard as I can. The sheetrock and paint crumble and my skin separates a little, but that isn’t enough. I punch it again and again, forming holes in the wall, but causing very little damage to my hand. I need something harder—I need brick.

I turn toward the door, but it swings open and my dad walks in. He takes a look at the holes in the wall and then at my hand cut up and bleeding all over the carpet.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He shakes his head as he stalks toward me, staring at the sheetrock and paint on the ground.”

“I have no idea.” I cradle my hand to my chest as I hurry around him and rush outside.

Inside the house, people are laughing, screaming, singing to the music and the lights gleam through the darkness. I walk around to the back yard, hearing him at my heels, knowing he’s going to catch up with me and he’s madder than hell.

“Kayden Owens,” he says as he darts in front of me, panting and his eyes are full of anger. His breath smells like whiskey and the wind is blowing leaves everywhere. “Were you trying to mess up your hand on purpose?”

I don’t speak as I make a detour toward the pool house, unsure where I’m going but feeling like I have to move. 

When I reach the door, he snags my elbow and forces me to turn around. “Start explaining. Now.”

I stare at him blankly and he starts yelling at me, telling me what a fuck up I am, but I barely hear him. I watch his lips move, waiting for it. Seconds later, his fist collides with my face, but I hardly feel it. He does it over and over again as his eyes drift into a state of blankness. I fall to the ground and he kicks me as hard as he can, wanting me to get up. I don’t. I’m not sure I want to. Maybe it’s time for it to be over; there isn’t that much to be over anyway.

I listen to my heart beat calmly inside my chest, questioning why it doesn’t react. It never does. I wonder if it’s dead. Maybe it is. Maybe I am.

Then, out of nowhere, a girl suddenly shows up behind my father. She’s small and looks terrified, like I should be. She says something to my dad and when he looks at her, I think she’s going to run away. But she stays with me until my dad leaves.

I sit on the ground confused and at a loss for words, because that’s not how things go. People are supposed to walk away, pretend this doesn’t exist, let the strange excuses make sense.

Her name is Callie and I know her from school. She’s standing above me and looking at me with horror in her eyes. “Are you okay?”

It’s the first time anyone’s asked me that and it throws me off. “I’m fine,” I say more sharply than I’d planned.

She turns to leave, but I don’t want her to leave. I want her to come back and explain to me why she did it. So I ask her and she tries to tell me but it doesn’t make sense.

Finally, I give up on trying to understand and ask her to get a first aid kit and an icepack. I go into the pool house and take my shirt off, trying to clean up the blood on my face, but I look like shit. He hit me in the face, something he rarely does only when he’s really pissed.

When Callie comes back, she seems nervous. We barely speak to each other, but then I have to ask her for help to get the kit open because my hand won’t work.

“You really need stitches,” she tells me. “Or you’re going to have a scar.”

I try not to laugh. Stitches aren’t going to help. They fix skin, cuts, wounds, heal stuff on the outside. Everything broken with me is on the inside. “I can handle scars, especially one’s on the outside.”

“I really think you should have your mom take you to the doctor and then you can tell her what happen,” she says refusing to give up.

I start to unwind a small section of gauze, but using only one hand, I drop it like a dumbass. “That’ll never happen and even if it did, it wouldn’t matter. None of this does.”

She picks it up and I expect her to hand it back to me, but she unravels the gauze around her hand. She puts the gauze over my wounds, eyeing my scars, noting them and the wrongness they carry. There’s something in her eyes that looks very familiar, like she has something trapped in her. I wonder if it’s what I look like.

My heart begins to beat loudly inside my chest for the first time in as long as I can remember. It starts off as subtle, but the longer her fingers are near my skin, the more deafening it gets until I can’t hear anything anymore. I try not to panic. What the fuck is wrong with my heart?

She steps back with her head tucked down, like she wants to hide. I can barely see her face with my swollen eye and I want to see her face. I almost reach out and touch her, but then she’s leaving, double-checking to make sure I’m okay. I pretend not to care, but my heart keeps hammering inside my chest, louder and louder and louder.

“Thank you.” I start to tell her.  For everything, for not letting him beat me, for stepping in.

“For what?”

I just can’t get there. Because I’m still not sure if I’m thankful.  “For getting me the first aid kit and icepack.”

“You’re welcome.”

Then she walks out the door and the god damn silence is back again.

***

My hand has to be taped up for the next week and I got my ass chewed off by my coach because it’s fucking up the way I play. Things aren’t going as well as I planned. I thought now that I was finally away from home, I’d get over the darkness that possesses me, but I was wrong.

It’s been over a week since Callie painted those beautiful words up on the rock. They meant more to me than she probably understood. Or maybe she did know, which is why I needed to pull back. That kind of emotion I can’t deal with.

Near the end of the week, I’m feeling really down and my body is paying for it. I’m lying in my bed, getting ready to go to class, when Daisy sends me a very vague text.

Daisy: Hey, I think we should see other people.

Me. What? Are you drunk or something?

Daisy: Nope. I’m completely sober. I’m just bored and sick of being by myself all the time. I need more.

Me: I can’t give you more when I’m in college.

Daisy: Then guess u don’t luv me as much as I thought.

Me: What do u want me to do? Drop out?

Daisy: I don’t know what I want, but it’s not this.

At the very same time I get another text and I switch screens.

Luke: I just got a text from D Man and he said he thinks Daisy cheated on you with Lenny.

Me: Are you fucking serious? Lenny?

Luke: Yeah, he said it happened during Gary’s banging out the new school year party or whatever the fuck he calls it.

Me: The banging out party took place before she came to visit.

Luke: Yeah… I know. Sorry man.

Me: Yeah, later.

I turn off my phone, not bothering to text Daisy back. I don’t really feel upset about it, but it feels like I should. It seems like I should be pissed off, but I feel empty.

During my Public Speaking class, I’m listening to a girl give a speech on Women’s Rights. I take some notes, but mainly stare out the window. I’m eyeing the football stadium in the distance, wishing I could be out running laps and releasing all this pent up energy.

Suddenly, I see Callie walking across the lawn with a bag on her shoulder. She’s on her phone, her hair is down, and her legs move rapidly to take her wherever she’s going. She’s wearing black yoga pants and a hoodie. She crosses the parking lot and yells something out when Luke appears on the sidewalk, heading for her. He’s limping and glancing around like he’s doing something wrong.

They meet up under a large oak tree where leaves are piled. Callie says something and then hands Luke her phone. She pulls pieces of her hair out of her mouth as Luke punches some buttons on her phone. She laughs as he says something and it leaves me scratching my head.

When he hands her the phone back, they give a parting wave to each other and walk off in opposite directions. Callie disappears between a row of cars in the parking lot and Luke limps off toward the back area of the school. He never mentioned that he was hanging out with her. Why is he hanging out with her? Why is this fucking bothering me?

Reaching into my pocket, I slip my phone out and turn it back on.

Me: Why were you just talking to Callie?

Luke: Where the hell r u? I was fucking texting u and then suddenly ur phone was off.

Me: In class… I saw u out the window.

Luke: Ok… Why does it matter what we were doing?

Me: It doesn’t. I was just wondering.

Luke: We were just talking. Gotta go. Class is starting.

It drives me crazy, which makes no sense. I should be more upset about my girlfriend of three years dumping me, but it’s a glitch compared to the idea that Callie and Luke could be going out or something.

Finally I shove up from the desk, making a scene as I storm out of class right in the middle of the poor girl’s speech. Bursting out the doors, the sunlight blinds me as I stomp toward the benches in the quad. Slumping down onto one, I lower my head into my hands and take a deep breath. I can’t react this way about anyone. Ever. It’s a rule of mine. Never drag anyone into my own shit. Callie is the last person who needs it on her shoulders.

The longer I sit there, the more worked up I get, and I realize the only way to sort stuff out is to actually figure out what’s going on. I text Luke and ask him if I can borrow his truck. He says yes, but to be back by two because he needs to go somewhere, and he lets me know that the keys are on the dresser.

I drive off toward The Tune Up Gym, where Callie said she kick boxes. She was dressed like she was going to work out so I assume that’s where she’s heading, however, when I arrive I can’t determine if I want to be right or wrong about my assumption.

I climb out of the truck and stare at the small brick building. “What the hell am I doing here?” I mutter to myself, turning back to the truck. That’s when Seth hops out of the car a few rows down.

He waves at me with a cigarette in his hand and a puzzled look on his face. “Hey.”

I wind around the front of the truck toward him. “Are you working out?”

He glances down at his jeans and button-down shirt. “Nah, I just come with Callie to keep her company.”

I nod, feeling like a fucking idiot for coming down here. Since when do I chase down girls? “I see.”

He flicks his cigarette to the asphalt and stomps on it with the tip of his boot. “Why are you here?” He eyes my dark jeans and plaid shirt.

I shrug. “I have no idea. I really don’t.”

He points a finger at the glass doors of the gym. “Callie’s inside. I’m sure she’d love to talk to you.”

I pop my knuckles, even the ones that are taped up. It hurts, but it calms me down. “Okay, I’ll walk in with you for a second.”

He grins and we weave around the cars toward the entrance of the building. There’s a big guy walking in with a bag over his shoulder and Seth moves up to hold the door open for him.

“Can I ask what happened?” He nods his head at my hand as we step inside.

I lift my taped hand up in front of me. “I hurt it during practice.”