The Redemption of Callie and Kayden (35 page)

drawing my hood off my head as I remember how I felt that day. I

wish I were invisible. I wish I didn’t exist. I want to die. The room lightens up a little as the clouds part from the sun just outside the window. I grip onto the clover and grasp onto the feeling Kayden

has given me. “I was raped.” Just like that it’s out there, in the air, for him to hear, like tearing off a Band-Aid, lifting skin, wounds,

everything with it because there’s no way to prepare anyone for

this.

My father stares at me for an eternity and a thousand

emotions rush across his expression: wrath, rage, frustration, pain.

Then he does something I’ve never seen him do. He starts to cry.

He’s sobbing hysterically, with his head hung in his hands, and I

don’t know what to do, so I stand up, cross the room, and throw

my arms around him.

He keeps crying, but my eyes stay dry. I’ve cried enough over

the last few years and I really don’t feel like shedding anymore.

* * *

The conversation with my mother doesn’t go as well as it did

with my dad, especially when I have to tell her who did it.

“No, no, no,” she keeps saying, like if she repeats it enough

the denial will be real. She keeps tapping her feet against the

ground as she sits in the chair in front of the window. “It didn’t

happen… There’s no way…” But every time she looks at me, I know

she knows it’s true. She’s probably going through every detail of

my past, when I chopped off my hair, started hiding out in my

room all the time, when I changed my wardrobe to “hoodlum

clothes,” as she put. She’s probably thinking about when I stopped

talking to almost everyone. When I stopped crying. When I

stopped living.

We’re in the living room, sitting on the couches. My father is

next to me, close, like he thinks he can still protect me from

everything bad in the world. Jackson left the house right after I

took my dad out of the room so he doesn’t know yet, but I wonder

what he’ll do when he finds out—if he’ll believe me or take his best

friend’s side.

“Yes, it did,” I say, surprised by the strength in my voice. “You

were outside and everyone was playing hide-and-seek. And he…

Caleb told me he had a present. He took me into my room and

then… and then it happened.”

She’s shaking her head over and over again and my dad

starts crying again. “There must be a mistake. I wish it were a

mistake.”

“It’s not,” I say simply. “It happened and here I am telling

you… I really wish… I really wish I could say it was a mistake,

though. But wishes are just wishes, Mom. I know that.”

She keeps tucking her hair into place and smoothing the

wrinkles from her sweating, like she needs to fix something. “Why

didn’t you tell us when it happened, Callie? I don’t understand.”

I’m not sure she ever will. My mother loathes dark, ugly

things that exist in the word and her defense has always been to

ignore them. And now her daughter is telling her that these dark,

ugly things have been living in her house, eating her food, smiling

at her, charming her, and slowly killing her daughter.

“Shame… guilt… fear,” I say, trying to explain the best I can,

focusing on my pulse and the feel of the metal of the clover as it

rests against the hollow of my neck. “The sheer fact that saying it

aloud makes it real.”

“Damn it!” My dad pounds his fist on the armrest and then

pounds it into the wall, making my mom and me jump. His eyes

are red and his skin is pale. “I’m going to fucking kill him!”

“No, you’re not, Dad,” I say, shaking my head as I touch his

arm, trying to calm him down. “Killing him will get you nowhere

but in jail. I don’t want you to go to jail.”

Tear streams from his eyes and it’s so strange to see. I watch

them fall onto his lap as he says, “Is that why he did it? Kayden?”

I nod my head once. “He wanted to make him pay… for what

he did. And it was… it was the only way he could think of to do it.”

My dad rises to his feet and shadows over me. He’s not that

large of a man—medium build and height—but right now he

seems enormous. “Oh, he’s going to pay. I’m going to call the

police.”

I jump up and grab his arm, wrapping my fingers firmly

around his elbows. “You can’t… It won’t do any good… It’s been

too long dad.”

My mother starts to bawl, taking hysterical breathes as she

buries her face into her hands. “This is so wrong… This can’t be

happening… Oh my God…”

“But it is,” I say, and she stares at me through her tears.

“Sorry, but it’s the truth.”

“How can you be so calm?” Her voice is wobbly. “I don’t

understand.”

“I’m not that calm,” I correct her as my hand leaves my dad’s

arm. “I’m just… I’m just trying to move on. Besides…” My eyebrows

knit as I realize how strong I’m being at the moment. “I’ve been

weak for long enough and I don’t want to crumble anymore.”

She takes her phone out of her pocket and starts punching

away at buttons. “This is so ridiculous. This is not happening. No, it can’t… It can’t…”

“Mom, what are you doing?” I ask, and when she doesn’t

answer, I trade a questioning glance with my father.

He wipes the tears away from his eyes with the back of his

hand. “Honey, I think the texting can be put on hold for a

moment.”

She shakes her head and she hits the last button. “I’m telling

Jackson to come home.”

“Why?” I ask warily.

“Because he’s part of this… this… this… I don’t even know

what this is.” Tears flow from her eyes and drip to her lap, staining her slacks. Her eyes are swollen, and if she keeps crying, she won’t

be able to see.

I glance up my dad. “She doesn’t need to cry, Dad… Help her

stop.”

He pats my arm in a comforting gesture. “She’s upset.” His

jaw tightens and he looks at me. I wonder what he sees. “And so

am I. No, I’m fucking pissed. This is such bullshit. All this time…

under our roof…” He starts muttering incoherently under his

breath, the veins in his neck bulging. He paces the floor and I

stand there in front of the couch and watch the madness unfold

like a building getting knocked down.

Finally, my mom gets up and crosses the room, heading for

the doorway with a determined look on her face. “That’s it…”

“Where are you going?” I chase after her. “Mom?”

She dabs her eyes with the bottom of her sweater. “I need to

do something… I need to fix this somehow… I just need a minute.”

Shaking my head, I position myself in front of her with my

hands out to the side. “You can’t fix it, Mom. It happened. There’s

nothing you can do about, except for be my mom right now.”

She analyzes my face for a moment and then returns to

crying again, throwing her arms around me. It’s been forever since

I let her hug me and I stand awkwardly, telling her it will be okay.

When her eyes dry, she backs up into the chair, with her face in her

hands and her shoulders hunched. The denial and the crying goes

on well into the late hours of the night. My dad starts yelling again, going on and on about how Caleb’s not going to get away with

this. There’s no conclusion at the end of the crying and ranting.

Caleb still raped me and six years have gone by while he walked

around getting away with it. There’s nothing that will change that,

not even from saying it out loud. But it changes me, alters my life

in an irreversible way. It shatters the chains around my wrists and

finally I’m free.

Jackson never does come home and I’m not sure what that

means. I eventually get up from the couch to leave the house,

despite my mother’s protests. She wants me to stay there and let

her cry over me while she figures everything out. She’s so

determined that she can erase it somehow, but I’m not naïve

enough to believe that’s possible. Besides, I’ve got somewhere else

I need to be—want to be. Someplace where I can be happy.

“Wait, Callie, please don’t go,” she begs, getting up from the

couch to follow me to the kitchen. “We can stay here and talk

about it some more.”

I shake my head as I walk for the door. “Mom, as much as I

know how you need to try and work through this, I’ve already

found a way to cope and I kind of need it right now.” I more than

need it actually. I have to be with him.

She keeps shaking her head and my dad gives me the keys

to the truck so I don’t have to walk and then tells me he’s still

going to call the police, just so they know. His eyes are red and

puffy and his lips are chapped. I tell him okay, because that’s what

he needs to hear at the moment. As I step out the door, I wonder

what will happen, if Caleb ever shows up again, if he was with

Jackson when my mother told him.

Once the door is shut behind me and I’m by myself, I spread

my hands to my side as I stand on the top of the porch,

underneath the light. The sky is clear, the stars twinkling against

the black backdrop. What will happen with my life? I don’t know.

But I’m eager to find out because for once I’m looking into my

future, not my past, and I smile at the endless possibilities.

#65 Watch fireworks with someone you love

Kayden

“I still really wish I could have been there with you,” I say. It’s

been a couple of days since she told her parents and she seems

okay, stronger, more confident. But even though I’m glad she did

it, I wish I could have been with her, to support her, comfort her,

do whatever she needed.

We’re sitting outside on the hood of her father’s truck that’s

parked near the lake. There’s a New Year’s Eve party going on a

ways down and I can see the bonfire through the trees. The stars

are out and the sky is a little hazy but the moon shines full. It’s way below zero, and the trucks hood is glazed with snow, but we have

a blanket draped over us and the warmth of our bodies to keep us

warm. “I wanted to be there for you.”

“But I had to do it alone,” she says, staring at the sky.

“Besides, it’s over now and I’m ready to move on.”

When I’d woken up in the hotel room by myself, I’d nearly

panicked and the feeling multiplied when I read her note. She’d

gone to tell her parents what happened by herself. The idea of

Callie standing there telling them alone crushed me. I wanted to

be there with her, help her, comfort her, but in a way, I guess I

understood why she did it alone. I think Seth’s always been right.

She’s a lot stronger than she looks.

“How do you feel?” I ask her, wrapping my arms firmly

around her waist while she presses her cheek against my chest. I

get a whiff of her hair, strawberries and something else that’s only

Callie.

She considers my question in silence. “Weightless.”

I smile. “Me too.” I had my Monday appointment with Doug

yesterday and I feel even lighter than after our meeting at the café.

I wonder how much lighter I’ll feel down the road after more

therapy.

“There’s still so much stuff to deal with, though,” she adds,

turning her head so she can look up at me. “And I worry what

Caleb will do when he finds out I told.”

My muscles vine into blistering knots. “He’ll never hurt you. I

won’t let him.”

“I know you won’t,” she says, surprising me by how much she

trusts me. She nuzzles her face against my shoulder and her warm

breath seeps through my coat. “I think… I think we should try and

find your brother.”

“Dylan?” I tilt my chin down to look at her. “Why?”

She angles her face up and her lips are close enough for me

to kiss and the feel of her breath is comforting. “Because, I think

it’ll help you with your father… when you decide to press charges.”

I try to contain my breathing as I think about actually going

through with it. What if he gets mad? What if nothing happens and

he hunts me down and hurts me? What if he kills me? The idea of

death isn’t very settling anymore, which confounds me. “I’m not

sure if I can.”

She inhales and a sigh escapes her lips as she releases a

breath. “Yes, you can… I know you can.”

I’m uncertain if she should be so confident about my

confidence. “And what if I don’t? Will you…” I trail off, clenching my hands and then flexing my fingers, and then I shake out my hand.

“Will you still love me?”

She lowers her head back onto my chest and rotates onto

her back. “I’ll always love you.”

I breathe in the sound of the words and her voice and I have

to stop the tears that appear from the overpowering feeling it

sends through my body. I wish I could say it back to her. I even get

my lips to part, but no sound will come out. “I want to say it,” I say quietly.

She shakes her head. “Don’t. Only say it when you really

mean it.” She slides her hand down my chest and interlaces our

fingers on top of my stomach.

We breathe through the chilled air, underneath the stars,

listening to the sounds of laughter and music from the party.

Minutes later, the sky lights up with an explosion of colors. Every

year, this town puts on a huge firework show over the lake. When I