A Pact For Life (22 page)

“Diana, you have to go...” Terri stopped talking as her daughter walked past her and into the foyer. Diana threw on her coat, gloves, and cap, and hurried out the door. She rushed because she thought she would be chasing after the old Cale, a walking whirlwind driven by alcohol and music. But it wasn't the old Cale she was chasing after, it was the reformed version who was only a few houses up the street. A silhouette in the yellow streetlights of the suburbs.

Cale was staring down at a full pack of cigarettes, but what he was looking for wasn't in there. What a perfect time to leave the special glass pipe out of his pack. He was miserable and alone. Two problems weed would've cured.

In this state, Cale finally sympathized what Diana went through every year around the holidays. It was a feeling of isolation being pounded into his psyche with each full house he passed. Everyone had someplace to be and someone to be with, but there he was, walking alone in the cold.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a second shadow creeping ever so closer to his own. He turned around, and found Diana gaining ground on him while saying something that was drowned out by the music.

Taking the headphones out of his ears, he heard, “About time I finally got your attention. I've been screaming your name.”

Cale fought the urge to say, 'What's new, you're always screaming my name' and instead held up his earbuds, and admitted, “You know me.”

“Yeah, I figured as much.”

They faced each other in the middle of the street not saying anything. Each breath they took hung in the cold air for a second until disappearing into nothingness, just like every thought either had as to what to say.

It was Diana who broke the silence, “You know, I'm finally coming around to the fact I can be around you and not want to kiss or kill you.”
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Cale laughed, and said, “Well I never want to kill you. Kiss you, yeah, but definitely not kill.”

“Why did you show up tonight? How can you...” Diana was cut short after two of the buttons on her coat popped off. Her stomach had finally outgrown her clothes.

“Wow, you are really starting to show, but you look good as a pregnant woman. I like your short hair too.”

“I don't care for compliments right now, just tell me why you came here tonight?”

Following Jenny's advice, Cale spoke from the heart. “Look, I didn't come over to apologize about walking out or asking for adoption. I came over because I wanted to be completely honest with you for once in my life.

“I was terrified to be a father, well, still am actually. There is so much that can go wrong, and let’s face it, I wasn't the most dependable person in the world, but I promise I've changed. You and the baby come first. I'm not running from loss anymore.”

Diana asked, “Running from loss?”

Cale breathed deep and shivered in the cold. “It started when my mom died. This fear of loss. It was like endlessly falling in darkness. Nothing to grab onto, no parachute, no lights. But I did open up again with my friends in DC. I loved them all, but I learned then I have this amazing ability to screw things up. I was never able to stop from losing my friends. They were the source of my art, and that's why nothing I do is good anymore. That's why I'm here tonight. I don't want what happened in DC to happen again. I don't want to lose you.”

He said more in those few minutes than the entire time they dated. Diana wasn't expecting this. It was shocking. She was shocked.

“Cale, I... how can I trust you? What happens if this is just a temporary thing and you freak out again? Did you ever stop and consider that I'm scared about having the baby too. Being a single mom is going to be too much for me to handle.”

“You're stronger than that.”

“No I'm not, and you know it. Our daughter will need both of her parents.”

“Daughter!?”

“Oh, I guess I never told you. It was big news to me too. There's actually a person in here.” Diana patted her stomach. “Cale, why don't you come back to the house? We can talk some more and get out of his terrible cold. Just try not to provoke my mom too much.”

“Thanks,” Cale said and smiled warmly.

Through the yellow lit streets, they walked back to the Young house. Halfway there, their hands came together.

And this would be the moment when violins would start playing.

LIKE THE PENNY TRAY AT A GAS STATION, THIS WAS A SERIES OF GIVES AND TAKES INVOLVING UTTERLY MEANINGLESS ITEMS

In the darkness of Diana's bedroom, several flashes of New Years' fireworks appeared through closed blinds. Each flash made Cale feel even more awake. He wanted to be out among the partiers, not lying in bed at 12:30. Going to bed at 12:30 on New Year’s Eve just did not feel right.

It was the first time he could remember not being at a partying on New Years. As a boy, his parents held giant parties which evolved into him and his dad going to illustrious DC soirees after his mom died. From his teenage years onward, New Year’s Eve were frantic, wild nights that thankfully never ended in an arrest. It wasn't that Cale avoided doing anything illegal, the cops were simply too busy with more profitable activities
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 to track down some stoned and drunk teenagers and their creative use of Christmas lights in public places.

For Cale, being tame was going to be the toughest challenge he ever faced. Everything that felt natural and right needed to be changed. It's one thing to abstain from a drink here and there or not smoke for a week or two, but this change went far beyond the temporary. This was going to be a complete overhaul of his life.

Going to bed at 12:30 on New Year’s Eve just did not feel right.

Diana parked her black Mercedes behind Full Steam Ahead as she and Cale got out and walked to the coffee shop. It was a Saturday trade-off of sorts, she would sit in Full Steam Ahead with Cale for an hour or so, and he would go to the park and jog with her. It was safe to say that neither was looking forward to the other's idea of an ideal Saturday.

Holding the door open for Diana, Cale said, “I'll need to stop by my place after we leave so I can pick up some running clothes.”

Sarcastically, Diana asked, “Do you even have any?”

“I was going to wear a long sleeved shirt and some loose jeans?”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, is that okay?”

Diana exhaled loudly and told him, “Oh Cale, that's not going to work. After we leave here, we'll go to the mall and I'll buy you some clothes to run in.”

He wanted to argue back and tell her he had no desire to go running. It was January in Denver, a time when it may look warm and sunny outside, but that is just a trap. The thermometer might say fifty-five, but with forty MPH winds and a decent cloud cover, it might as well be the Arctic. Cale knew it was going to suck, yet he couldn't tell her no.

They sat down in the familiar corner table. Diana had the New York Times and a cappuccino while Cale had a coffee and nothing else. As she began to read the paper, she lowered it to see what Cale was doing.

Nothing. He was just sitting there staring out the window, and for some reason, this bothered her. “Cale, what in the hell are you doing?”

“Just thinking. Sometimes when I sit here, I like to stare out onto 6th Ave and let my mind go.”

“And that's fun for you? Sitting there doing nothing?”

He wanted to tell her that he spent the time trying to come up with new sculptures, but couldn't figure out a way to differentiate it from daydreaming.

Sculpting, or any creative pursuit for that matter, begins with a formless idea and grows from there. Every painting, song, performance, etc. begins as a shapeless object lacking any detail except for one hook or feeling. Michelangelo didn't have a clue what to paint on the Sistine Chapel, he just wanted to honor God
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, and from this desire, the various scenes were developed in his mind, then sharpened, and then painted. The Beatles' Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band started with a desire to create an alternative band that wouldn't have to deal with the widespread fame that plagued The Beatles. This idea was abandoned once they started to record, but without it, the album would have never existed.

With Diana waiting for an answer, Cale said, “It's hard to explain.”

Diana thought she would be getting an insight into what the art community labeled as genius, so she asked, “C'mon Cale, if it's really that interesting that you'll stare out a window for hours, I want to hear it.”

Cale realized he had to tell her something, and if he couldn't describe his art, he settled on their relationship. “Lately I've been thinking a lot about us. Like what's our next step? Should we get married or move in together first? I mean, I stay at your place most of the week anyway. If we're going to be a family, shouldn't we be heading in that direction?”

“I've been thinking the same thing! I'm assuming our pact is still on?”

The pact. Cale had forgotten about the pact. There were so many more pressing issues going on in his life. “Ummm... I'm still for it, but what about moving in together? Shouldn't that be the first step?”

Without hesitation, Diana said, “You can move into my place if you want.”

With hesitation, Cale said, “Yeah, let's do it. I'll still keep my warehouse as a studio and stuff, but everything else I'll bring over to your...I guess our place now.”

Even though she never lived with a boyfriend before, Diana was happy about this progress. Blinded by joy, she overlooked the negatives – the loss of privacy, adjusting to another person's living style, cooking for two, cleaning for two, and hundreds of other facets. Instead, she focused solely on moving that much closer to her imaginary typical family. She leaned over the table, kissed Cale, went back to reading her paper, and let him return to staring out the window.

Along a path encircling Cheesman Park, a park larger than some small towns, Cale found himself struggling to keep up with the pregnant Diana while the pregnant Diana found herself struggling to slow down for Cale.

Every second on the run was painful for Cale. His legs felt heavier by the step. His lungs suffered from an adulthood of smoking. His hydration consisted of nothing but coffee. By the first stride, he was dead in the wind.

With a mouth as dry as the desert, he passed a clump of dirty snow, and debated whether it would be worth it to try and drink. In the end, he did the right thing and passed on the snow not out of fear, but rather as a better alternative presented itself. Forty feet down the sidewalk, a collection of sprinklers were on.

Diana looked back and shouted, “We haven't even gone a mile yet. Don't tell me you're already tired?”

Cale couldn't talk. He didn't have the saliva to form the words, nor the ability to think of anything other than whatever body part was hurting.

As Cale huffed and puffed his way along the trail, Diana realized what a mistake it was to bring him along. She wanted an equal to be out there with her, not someone that would hold her back.

They stopped next to a family having a picnic, which was reciprocated by the family stopping their picnic to witness the pregnant woman easily out-running a man who appeared to be in decent shape. Saliva had returned to Cale's mouth, or at least enough that he could ask, “How can you do this every day?”