The Redemption of Callie and Kayden (37 page)

driveway beside my house, Luke puts it into park and mutters,

“Hurry up.”

“Relax,” Kayden tells him, flipping the handle and pushing

open the door. He brings his foot to the ground and climbs out,

moving me out with him. Once my feet are planted firmly to the

ground, he releases his grip on me and slams the door.

I don’t ask questions when he takes my hand and walks up

the driveway with me. He never said anything about coming inside,

but I think in his own head he’s protecting me. We walk up the

steps and I try not to think about the haunting memories inside

out and out. Instead, I think about the good ones that I spent with

Kayden and Seth.

By the time we reach the top of the stairs, my mother is

swinging the door open. She has on an apron over a floral cream

skirt and a white shirt trimmed with lace. Her hair is curled up at

the ends and she has a string of pearls around her neck. She also

has a plate of chocolate chip cookies in her hand and she’s smiling

brightly. I can tell Kayden’s trying really hard not to laugh at the

Leave It to Beaver theme she’s got going on.

“I’m so glad you decided to stop by,” she says and then pulls

me in for a hug while balancing the cookies in her hand. She

moves back and then hugs Kayden too. He pats her back,

awkwardly exchanging a confounded look with me.

But all I can do is smile. At that moment, I love my mother,

the cookies, and the 1960s dresses and all because I’m pretty sure

no one has hugged Kayden like that besides me. She urges the

plate of cookies at us, and shaking my head with a tiny smile, I take a one to make her happy. I had accidentally let it slip during on a

phone conversation about my throwing-up problem and I’m pretty

sure for the rest of my life she will probably try to overfeed me.

The good-byes are quick and my dad and Kayden even chat

a little bit about football. They don’t ask him questions about what

happened with Caleb or his dad, even though the gossip around

town is spinning into stories full of suicide, attempted murder, and

every felony charge imaginable.

We’re heading out to the truck when Jackson’s car pulls into

the driveway. My initial reaction is to run away from him, because

he’s usually got Caleb attached to his hip. But there’s no one

sitting in the passenger seat so I relax and let out a loud breath.

“You coming?” Kayden asks, and I realize I’m standing in the

middle of the driveway, staring at my brother.

I hold up a finger, indicating I need a minute. “Just a sec.”

He eyes me with worry in his green eyes. “Are you sure?”

I nod as my brother climbs out of the car. He’s looking at me

and I can’t read his stoic expression at all. “Yeah, I just need to talk to him.”

Kayden nods and then he heads for the truck, passing

Jackson along the way. They mutter a hello and then Kayden

climbs inside. He never takes his eyes off me as I wander over to

the steps and take a seat on the bottom stair, the light layer of

frost on the cement seeping through the backside of my jeans.

Jackson walks up to me with his hands stuffed into his plaid

hooded jacket. His brown hair hangs over his ears and his

sideburns look like they could use a trim. He rocks back on his

heels, appearing apprehensive as he looks at me.

“Look, Callie, I don’t even know what to say,” he starts. “I

guess… I guess I’m sorry.”

I’m a little shocked by his declaration and my gaze darts to

the ground, my forehead creasing. “You don’t need to be sorry. It’s

not your fault.”

He drops down on the steps and stretches out his legs in

front of him and then crosses his ankles. He smells like cigarette

smoke and booze. I didn’t even know he smoked, but then again, I

don’t really know him, not really. Even when we were kids, we were

kind of competitive, and then when the thing with Caleb happened

any hope of a brotherly-sisterly bond shattered.

“I turned him in,” he finally proclaims. His cheeks suck in as

he inhales and then they puff back out as he releases a breath.

“Thank you,” I say. “But the police won’t do anything. They

really can’t. It’s been too long and it’s basically just his word

against mine.”

He shakes his head and rubs his hand across his stubbly jaw.

“Not for that… I already knew that wouldn’t do any good.” His

hand drops to his lap. “I turned him in for growing pot in his

parents’ basement. I even told the police where he keeps his own

stash.”

I’m stunned. Speechless. Unsure. Happy. Amazed. Thankful.

“So he’s… so he’s in jail?”

“No, not yet.” He sighs heavily. “When mom told me about…”

He clears his throat at the uneasiness of the topic. “About what

happened to you, I was at a party with him. As soon as I

confronted him, he totally fucking bailed on me before I could

even get in a good swing. He didn’t even try to deny it.” His eyes

glaze over as he recollects. “Anyway, he’s been dealing for a while,

here and back home, so I thought I’d try to get him in trouble for

something. If he ever shows up, he’ll be in deep shit. On top of

growing, he had, like, five pounds stashed in his floorboards, which

is considered drug trafficking.” A ghost smile rises on his face at

the thought.

“How did you know it was there? The weed?”

“Let’s just say I took a lucky guess.”

“Didn’t the police question you?”

“I called in an anonymous tip.”

I’m grateful, but also really sad. Warm tears force their way

out from my eyes and I turn my head so he won’t see me cry.

Kayden starts to open the door, but I shake my head and then shut

my eyes as the tears stream out. If Caleb ever comes back, he’ll be

in trouble. If not, he’ll roam around free. Regardless, my brother

did this for me and I’ll be eternally grateful.

“Thank you,” I whisper, wiping my tears away with the sleeve

of my coat.

“Don’t thank me,” he mutters and I detect a hint of guilt in

his tone. “It doesn’t fix anything.”

“It’s not your fault,” I say, drying off the last of the tears and

then I look at him. “It’s not.”

He doesn’t respond, instead rising to his feet. “But it kind of

is, you know. I feel like we all kind of saw what we wanted to see

and I blamed you all that time for making everyone in the family

stressed.”

I stand up too and brush the snow off the back of my jeans.

“People generally do see what they want to see, but it doesn’t

make them bad.”

He presses his lips together and then runs his fingers

through his overly long hair. “Yeah, I guess so.” He huffs out a

breath and then blinks as he looks at me, changing the subject. “So

are you headed back to school?”

I nod and walk backward toward the truck, staying in my

footprints to keep from sinking in the snow. “Yeah, school starts on

Monday.”

He gazes at the people in the truck. “Are you driving back

with them?”

Smiling, I nod. “Yes.”

“With a bunch of dudes?”

“Yes.”

“Is that safe?”

My smile expands into a face-consuming grin. “I’m safer in

that truck than I am anywhere else.”

He crooks his eyebrows at me with cynicism. “Well, okay

then.” I wave at him as I start to turn, when he calls out, “I’ll let you know what happens.”

Glancing over my shoulder, I nod again, knowing all I can do

is hope everything will work out, that I’ll get a little bit of justice and Caleb will have to pay. But no matter what happens, I spoke

up, made a voice for myself, freed the haunting memories that

have owned me every day for the last six years. I found my

courage.

Kayden

“I don’t fucking understand” are the first words that leave my

lips when I enter my house. It’s empty. Cleared of all the furniture, pictures, books, plates, and food, and the cars aren’t even in the

driveway. The floor is bare of rugs and the few dressers that are

left have been emptied out as well, including my clothes. My

parents took them too, probably to punish me for existing.

“They even took the blinds down,” I say, astounded, turning

in a circle in the living room. “Why would they do that? I mean,

there’s no for-sale sign, no nothing.”

Callie steps up beside me beneath the chandelier and right

in front of the bulky marble fireplace and she threads her fingers

through mine, giving my hand a squeeze. “They never mentioned

they were moving?”

I shake my head slowly, her hand feeling so diminutive in

mine, yet enormously comforting. “I haven’t even seen my dad

since he beat the shit out of me.” I think about the itinerary papers in the trash bin. “Did they just bail?”

“What about your brother?” she asks. “Could he still be here?

Maybe he knows where they went.”

Shaking my head, I tug her with me as I rush toward the

open front door. I trot down the stairs and round the corner of the

house to the basement. Kicking the snow out of the way from the

front door, I grab the doorknob.

It’s not like I’m upset I’ll never see them again. I’m pissed off

because I was starting to warm up to the idea of pressing charges

and now… “I have no idea what’s going on,” I mutter as I open the

basement door and find that that room is empty too. The leather

sofa Callie, Luke, and I played truth on is the only thing that

remains. The mini fridge, the television, and the futon are missing. I walk in, still clinging onto Callie’s hand and it soothes the

loneliness and feelings of abandonment rising up in my body.

I stand in the entryway with my jaw hanging open, just

staring at the room I spent countless days hiding out in. “What the

fuck?” I don’t move or breathe. I can’t even think straight as my

thoughts become jumbled. There’s a crack in the wall just outside

the farthest corner where my dad rammed my head through the

Sheetrock and then didn’t patch it up correctly. I had a concussion

from a “collision with another player on my baseball team” my

mom had told the doctors. There’s a hole in the carpet that was

once hidden by a recliner. Tyler had dropped his lighter when he

was smoking weed and it had burned a hole. To cover it up from

my dad, we’d moved the recliner over it.

“Can you try and call them?” Callie asks. “Maybe not your

parents, but you could try your brother.”

I shake my head in disbelief. How can this be happening?

How can he walk away to Puerto Rico or Paris or wherever he

ended up? And why? It’s not like he’d definitely be in trouble if I

spoke up. He could easily deny it.

“I don’t get it,” I mutter, turning back to Callie. Her hair is

twisted in a clip at the back of her head and pieces of her bangs

frame her face. Her lips are turning purple because the low

temperature in the room almost matches the winter air outside.

“We should go,” I say, shaking my head as I attempt to sort

through my rapid, disorganized thoughts.

She tightens her grip on my hand and holds me in place.

“Are you sure? We could look around and see if we could find

some clues or something.”

I sigh. “Callie, this is real life. There won’t be any clues, and

even if there are, none of it matters. To anyone. It’s better if I just walk away from it… move on.” I feel the hole inside my chest

developing again and the need for infliction is surfacing. “I really

just need to go.”

She quickly nods, understanding what’s going on inside me,

and she leads me outside. I stop to shut the door, watching the

room slowly disappear, inch by inch by inch until the lock latches

into place and the room vanishes.

We walk back to the truck and climb in. Callie sits on my lap,

and even though everything seems about as shitty as it can get, I

know it’s not. Because I’m not lying on the floor bleeding to death,

giving up my will to live. I’m here, sitting with her, and she’s

amazing and keeps my heart beating. She gives me a reason to

live without pain, without sadness. And she gives me hope that

maybe this will work out somehow.

One month later…

#6 Take a leap of faith

#38 Finish Get somewhere with a major project

#44 Eat chocolates, have a lot of sex, and enjoy Valentine’s

Day, the day of LOVE!

Kayden

“Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!” Seth comes running

up to me shrieking like a psychopath. The library is pretty empty,

but the librarian, a younger woman with square-framed glasses

and fluffy brown hair, scowls at us from behind the counter. There

are paper hearts all over the shelves and walls and even hanging

from the ceiling. Valentine’s Day is in a few days and I’m still trying to figure out what to get Callie, because I want it to be something

special, something perfect, something that will represent her.

“Seth.” Angling my chin up, I nod my head at the counter.

“Watch the shrieking.”

He’s holding a crinkled paper in his hand. I’ve been searching

the library for about an hour for a book on Darwinism. Usually, I’d

use a computer, by Professor Milany is totally old-school and

always requires one book reference.